


For In Dreams

by senatorofsorcery (orphan_account)



Series: For In Dreams [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, BAMF Ginny Weasley, BAMF Harry Potter, Black Character(s), Black Hermione Granger, Dark fiction, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Gay Character(s), Good Dumbledore, Harry is a Little Shit, Harry is one quarter Indian and a lot Scottish, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Marriage, Mild Language, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Pre-Hogwarts, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Romance, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Sirius needs a hug tbh, Smut, Snape is still evil, Soul Bond, Violence/Physical Abuse, Well-Meaning Dumbledore, my tags are a mess i'm sorry, psuedo smut, psychological problems for everyone eventually, tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 436,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/senatorofsorcery
Summary: Harry had never had friends, so he imagined one: a red-haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, a boy who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams became a reality when Harry met Ginny.(on indefinite hiatus.)





	1. Prologue/The Boy Who Dreamed

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a while now, posting it on Fanfiction.net. I thought readers here might like it.

****

**Prologue  
  
October, 31st, 1981**

  
  
Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall gave Baby Harry Potter one more look, and Disapparated. Young Harry turned over in his sleep, and clutched the letter Professor Dumbledore had put there. The area was deserted.  
  
Or, at least, it had been. In the time it took to blink, an old woman appeared at the end of Number Four’s driveway. If Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had looked eccentric in their robes, this woman looked like she had come out of a movie, or perhaps a video game.  
  
She was hunched over, and leaning heavily on a wooden stick that rose two feet over her head. The end was curved and carved, and resting on it was a crow, its yellow eyes fixed on the bundle on the doorstep. At the woman’s side, a pure black wolf stood lean and strong. One of the woman’s gnarled hands rested on the wolf’s head, stroking its ears. The woman wore a long midnight blue colored robe, and her cloak was as black as night, but interwoven with the fabric were little specks of silver, shimmering and glimmering in the light of the moon. Her face was brown, and lined with her old age. Her hair was pure white, setting a dark contrast against the night. Her eyes gleamed as she looked at the bundle of blankets that held Baby Harry. She lifted her hand away from the wolf, and pulled from a pocket of her robes a wand, about fifteen inches long and made of black wood.  
  
She walked, without even a limp, to the doorstep, and touched the tip of her wand to the scar on Baby Harry’s forehead. She opened her mouth and her voice came out raspy and dark. She spoke in a tongue that had been long forgotten by man, each word resonating throughout the street, words of power. The wand tip glowed gold, the baby’s scar glowed along with it, then the woman closed her lips, and the glow faded. She stepped back, touched a hand to the wolf’s head, and as quickly as she appeared, she vanished.  
  
Far away from Little Whinging, at a crooked house that could only be held up by magic, two adults slept soundly in their bed. At the end of the bed, were two hand carved wooden cribs. In one, a infant boy lay on his back, drool dripping from his chin, and in the other, a baby girl slept, with her red hair splayed against her pillow. Her tiny left hand was curled into a fist, and her right clutched the blanket that rested upon her.  
  
The woman that had appeared and vanished by Number Four Privet Drive reappeared by the girl's crib, with her wolf and crow still and silent at her side. She touched the tip of her wand to the baby girl’s forehead, and whispered again in words long forgotten, but this time, the words were soft, to soft for the two adults to hear but enough to wake the baby girl in her crib.  
  
The baby stared up at the woman in wonder and fear. The woman put away her wand, and, hesitantly, reached out and touched a finger to the baby girl’s cheek.  
  
“You will not hear his voice until the time is right,” she said, her voice still raspy. “He will be dormant in your mind until you most desperately need him. Only when you turn inward to find solace will you hear him, and only when he does the same will he hear you.”  
  
The baby girl blinked her chocolate brown eyes. The woman withdrew her hand, and lay it back upon her wolf’s head.  
  
“Never let your dreams cease,” the woman whispered. “Never let your imagination dry up; always believe in the last few untamed branches of magic. Always trust the wild ways, always know you are true, and not just because of what I have done this night. Look up to the stars and know you are not alone in this world, Ginevra Weasley.”  
  
The baby girl seemed to understand, even though this was impossible. She was a year old at least, but she seemed to understand what this strange woman said. The baby blinked her eyes once more, and the woman and her crow and wolf were gone.  
  
In the apple orchard behind the house, the crow on the woman’s staff let out a mournful croon, and the wolf sat back on its haunches to look up to the moon and howled. The woman drew her wand once more, and pointed it into the sky. The moon’s light shone down on her, and her image faded. The wolf and her crow stopped their noise, and the three vanished once more.  
  
They were gone, and this time, they did not reappear.  
  
**

HGHGHGHGHGH GHGHGHG  
  
  
One: The Boy Who Dreamed  
  
Harry

**  
  
Harry stumbled into the front hall, and ducked automatically as a soapy sponge flew over his head. Aunt Petunia screeched loudly in the kitchen, while his uncle roared back from the safety of the underside of the kitchen table. Harry dodged a wooden spoon, and slipped into his cupboard. Literally slipped. The floor was soaked in Murphy's' Oil Soap. Today had been Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's anniversary. A loud chiming joined the din in the kitchen. Correction: yesterday had been their anniversary. Harry sighed, and tugged his soapy shirt over his head. He didn't bother undressing the rest of the way, just plopped onto the cot that served as his bed.  
  
_What happened?_  
  
Harry smiled slightly as her voice drifted into his mind. _Uncle Vernon forgot their anniversary._  
  
_Ouch, poor him._  
  
_Poor me! I'll have to clean everything up in the morning._  
  
_Yes, poor you. The world pities you. You are the most pitiable thing on God's green Earth. She rolled her eyes._  
  
Harry glared at the ceiling. She giggled, and said; _At least they aren't mad at you._  
  
_Yeah. Let's hope they forget that I'm here like they did with Dudley._  
  
_Where's he?_  
  
_Upstairs playing his video games. What did you expect?_  
  
_Dunno, maybe crying because his parents are fighting._  
  
_Don't tell me your parents are fighting._  
  
_No, but Mum's really upset._  
  
_Why?_  
  
_Fred and George hexed Percy so that his hair turned pink._ An image of a disgruntled boy with vivid pink hair flashed across his mind.  
  
Harry laughed softly. _Maybe he ought to keep it that way. It looks good._  
  
_Don’t start. Percy's furious because Mum can't get it to go away, and he's leaving for school in a month._  
  
_Don't remind me,_ Harry groaned. The school year started soon, and he'd have to deal with the bullies again. At least this year, Dudley and most of his gang were going to a private school and he, Harry, would be going to the public school.  
  
_Oh, come on, her voice sang. It won't be too horrible. Look on the bright side, Dudley won't be there._  
  
_Yeah, big whoop._  
  
_What have I said about being negative?_  
  
_That it's like inviting a Dementor inside._  
  
_Exactly. Be careful or it might suck out your soul._  
  
_But Dementors aren't real._  
  
_Yes they are. Daddy's had to interact with them, and they're worse than anything your uncle could do to you._  
  
Harry sighed. The half bad, half crazy cool part about his imaginary friend was that she lived in a world of magic. With 'Dementors' and flying brooms and people who could turn into animals. But magic wasn't real, at least, not in his world.  
  
_Magic is real!_  
  
_Yeah, yeah, I know._  
  
_Don't tease me!_  
  
_I'm not!_  
  
_No, stop. I hate fighting with you._  
  
A pleasant, warm feeling came over him, and he smiled. _You're right. Let's stop._  
  
_Good. What shall we talk about now?_  
  
_Sleep?_ Harry suggested with a yawn. She giggled again. _Fine with me. Sweet dreams._  
  
_Same to you._ Harry shut his eyes, and fell asleep.  
  
**

HGHGHGHGHGHGH GHGHG

**  
  
Harry spent the next day cleaning up from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's fight. Aunt Petunia was furious with him because he didn’t clean up during the fight. Harry tried to explain that anything that got within eight feet of her got skewered with kitchen utensils. She just sniffed, and made him scrub the floor.  
  
While he was cleaning, Dudley played video games or watched TV while eating nonstop. Around noon, Aunt Petunia told Harry to make himself a sandwich and take it outside. Harry slapped together cheese, mustard, and bologna, between the heels of the last loaf of bread he'd made, and wandered out to the back yard with it on a paper towel. He ate in silence, watching his cousin eating lasagna through the dining room window. Harry glanced at his pathetic sandwich, sighed, and walked away. He came to rest in the side yard near his aunt's cherry tree. He finished his sandwich and leaned up against the tree to enjoy the last moments of his break. The sitting room window in front of him sat open, and Harry paused to listen to the TV playing. After a minute or two, the phone rang.  
  
His aunt walked into the room, switched of the TV, and sat down on the couch. His aunt picked it up, said hello, and then gasped. Harry, feeling curious, crept closer to hear what she was saying.  
  
"Yes, Vernon Dursley lives here." She paused, listening to the other person on the line. "He left his what?... And, where?" Aunt Petunia pressed a hand to her chest, and took a deep breath. "Thank you, sir. I'm sure he'll go back to get it." She winced, held the receiver away from her ear. Then she paled, and set her lips in a firm line. "Do me a favor, mister. Never call this number again." Aunt Petunia slammed the receiver down on the cradle, and hugged her self.  
  
"That is it." She grabbed the phone again, and dialed.  
  
Harry normally didn't listen to his aunt's phone chats, since she usually only called the neighbors or her friends from the local Ladies' Club. But as Aunt Petunia began speaking, Harry noticed that her tone wasn't one she used when talking to Mrs. Next Door. More like she was speaking to a person in a position of authority. She said something about schools and Dudley, then spoke her good-byes, and hung up. She sat there in silence for a moment, then stood, and left the room. Harry sat back, rest against the house, pondering the two calls.  
  
"Harry! Get in here!"  
  
Sighing, Harry stood, and rushed to answer his aunt's summons.  
  
Aunt Petunia set him to work again, and finally, the kitchen was clean. There were no more marks on the table from his aunt's rubber spatula collection, and the hallway floor was no longer sticky with oil soap. By that time, his uncle had returned from work full of apologies with a bouquet of lilies and a bottle of Jack Daniel's finest. Harry, who was sore from the scrubbing, was setting the table and warily watching his aunt as Uncle Vernon dropped the bottle on the counter and handed the bouquet to Aunt Petunia. She hated lilies.  
  
_Oooh, he's in trouble!_ Said his friend in a sing-song voice.  
  
_I'll say,_ Harry thought. She snorted.  
  
Aunt Petunia gave Vernon a tight-lipped smile, and set out a vase to hold the flowers. Harry glanced back at the whiskey bottle. Aunt Petunia didn't even bother hiding her displeasure at it. She glared at the bottle. Vernon pretended he didn't see his wife's glare, and placed the bottle on the table.  
  
_I know my mother wouldn't blow up at my dad if he brought the wrong sort of flower, but whiskey?_ She said. _What kind of man brings his wife whiskey?_  
  
_An alcoholic?_ he suggested.  
  
_Oh, Harry, I'm sorry, I forgot,_ She said hurriedly. _Just promise me you'll follow your cousin's example and scram when he starts to drink._  
  
_I will._  
  
_Good. Oh, Mum's calling me. Talk to you later!_  
  
_Bye,_ Harry thought miserably as Uncle Vernon took his place at the table. Aunt Petunia gave him another tight-lipped smile and banged a platter bearing a roast chicken on the table. Uncle Vernon nodded, she sat down, and Dudley said, "I'm hungry. Let's eat."  
  
"Oh, of course, sweetums," Aunt Petunia simpered. "Vernon, carve the chicken."  
  
"Right," he said, and did as he was bid. Dinner was quiet; Harry ate quickly and cleared the table as soon as his aunt and cousin were done. While he was washing the dishes, Uncle Vernon opened the bottle of whiskey.  
  
"Vernon," his aunt said in a low, dangerous voice. "Remember what the doctor said?"  
  
"Yeah, right," he snorted, and stood. He went into the kitchen, pulled a shot glass from the cupboard, and poured two fingers worth of whiskey into the glass. Aunt Petunia stood up quickly, grabbed the flowers from the vase gracing the center of the table, and threw them into the waste bin. She crossed the room, and blocked the sitting room door. Uncle Vernon threw back his drink, and left the kitchen, heading for the sitting room. Dudley glanced over at Harry, still washing dishes, then at his mother standing in the doorway to the sitting room.  
  
"Petunia, I need to watch the news."  
  
"Give me the bottle, Vernon," she said.  
  
"No! I can have a drink if I want," Vernon said. And he threw back another shot of whiskey  
  
"You've been drinking entirely too much, Vernon. You know who called me yesterday? Your boss! He wants to know why you're leaving work early all the time. And do you know who called this afternoon?" his aunt's voice rose shrilly. "The manager of a strip club downtown! He said you left your jacket! From now on, no bars, no clubs, no coming home late, no leaving work early, and no drinking!" She snatched the bottle of whiskey from his hand, crossed the room, and dropped it in the waste bin too.  
  
Slowly, Uncle Vernon turned towards her, a look of pure rage on his face. It took three strides for him to cross the room and stick his nose in Aunt Petunia's face. Harry, feeling suddenly scared for his aunt, set down his dish towel, and backed up in the direction of the knife block.  
  
"You've overstepped your line, Petunia," he growled, his voice slurring dangerously. "Your job is to cook, clean, and raise my son. Not to regulate my drinking! I'll spend as much time as I want in bars, and clubs too, if I want! I do what I want, not what you want!" He grabbed the whiskey bottle out of the trash, and took a long swig.  
  
"Think about what you're doing to our family! You're spending half your paycheck on beer and whiskey and who knows what else! With your spending habits, we won't be able to send Dudley to Smelting's!" Aunt Petunia screamed.  
  
"Oh, piss off, woman. I already paid for it."  
  
"What about feeding us? And him?" she jerked her thumb over at Harry. "Don’t you think it would be a blot on your record if your family starves to feed your need for whiskey?"  
  
"Honestly, you could do with a little less feeding. And Dudley won't starve, I'll make sure of that," Vernon snapped. "As for that runt, it would easier to dump him on the streets. Our financial worries would be cut in half without him!"  
  
"I've told you before, that boy may be a pain, but he's not useless! He makes up for what we do for him. Besides, he’s my sister’s son, and no matter how freakish she was, I owe it to her to care for her son."  
  
Harry was stunned. His aunt was defending him? And she'd done it before?  
  
"Well, scream why don't you," uncle Vernon bellowed. "Let the whole world know, why don't you?"  
  
"Vernon Dursley, I refuse to be treated this way anymore. Either you quit drinking, or I take my son and my nephew and we leave."  
  
"Oh, putting that brat on the same level as Dudley, now are we?"  
  
"I don't care how bothersome he is, he doesn't deserve to be with you! And don't change the subject!"  
  
"You won't leave," Vernon laughed. "You're gonna stay right here and do as you're told!"  
  
Aunt Petunia glanced at Dudley. "Go up to your room, Dudley."  
  
"Mummy, are we really leaving?"  
  
"If your father doesn't mend his ways, yes."  
  
"'If your father doesn't mend his ways,'" Vernon mocked her. "You're not going anywhere."  
  
"Dudley, go." Dudley stood up, and scurried from the room.  
  
"We are leaving. And I won't let you stop us.'"  
  
She pushed past Uncle Vernon, and stomped out of the dining room. A tiny glass angel on the china cabinet fell, and smashed.  
  
Uncle Vernon glanced at the shattered remains of the cherub, and grumbled under his breath.  
  
"Clean that up," he growled, and dropped into a dining room chair.  
  
Harry grabbed a broom and dust pan, and crossed the room, eyes on his uncle. Slowly, he stooped down, and swept it up.  
  
"She won't leave."  
  
Harry looked up.  
  
His uncle was squinting at him, the whiskey bottle sitting in his limp hand.  
  
"She can threaten me all she wants, but she won't leave."  
  
_Oh, yes she will._  
  
_Will what?_  
  
_Weren't you listening? Aunt Petunia's taking me and Dudley and leaving. We'll be gone by tomorrow. Uncle Vernon won't stop drinking for anything._  
  
_Won't that be good? You'll be away from your uncle._  
  
_Yeah, but where will we go? This is the only place we've ever been. Aunt Petunia doesn't have any real friends to take her in._  
  
_Maybe an inn? Wait, what about her parents?_  
  
Harry shook his head, and, keeping his eyes on Uncle Vernon, he crossed to the waste bin and hastily deposited the glass shards.  
  
_She never talks about them. I think they're dead._  
  
He could tell that his friend was thinking hard about this as he walked across the kitchen, opened the pantry door, and dropped the broom and pan on the floor. He then ran out of the kitchen and into the hallway.  
  
_I wish there was some way I could help,_ She said.  
  
_Same here._  
  
_I have to go now; Mum needs me to peel potatoes for dinner. We're having roast beef and mashed potatoes and parsnips. I'm not too fond of parsnips._  
  
_I don't think anyone is._  
  
She laughed. Vaguely, Harry heard a woman's voice, and the whistle of a water kettle.  
  
Ignoring the noise on his imaginary friend's side of his mind, Harry shut the door to the dining room and kitchen. Through the stained glass windows, he could see his uncle pouring himself more whiskey. Sighing, Harry stepped up to the door of his cupboard, but stopped suddenly.  
  
"…remember that teensy little drinking problem he had?" his aunt's voice, coming from the living room. Slowly, Harry edged to the living room doorway. Aunt Petunia sat on the couch, the telephone receiver in one hand, a pen hovering over a pad of paper in the other.  
  
"He's an alcoholic now." His aunt paused, listening to the other person on the line. "Yes, yes, you were right. Listen, I told him that I'm leaving him, I can't stand him anymore. Could I come stay with you for a while?" Pause. "Yes, with Dudley. And Harry." He heard a muffled shout, and saw Aunt Petunia wince. "Yes, I mean Lily's son…. He's fine.... I wanted to tell you he was with us, but Vernon insisted I keep it quiet… No! I did not pretend he was my son. Horrible thing for you to suggest… Well, he's not very bright, nor very pretty. He's a strange boy; you can imagine Vernon's want to avoid discussing him, Lily being what she was… No, I can't say he looks much like her… Look, I'm not overly fond of the boy, and if you met him, you'd dislike him too!" Aunt Petunia winced again, and then, in a soft hiss, said, "My husband is spending all his money at bars and strip clubs, so at the moment I'd rather not discuss why I don't like Lily's son!" Aunt Petunia's eyes flashed, and she stood up, throwing the pencil and paper away. "Please?... Thank you, we'll be there as soon as possible. And, please, when we get there, don't mention Lily's school when we get there. I haven't told him about his, ah, heritage. Good-bye." She put the receiver down, and sank onto the couch, hanging her head in her hands.  
  
"Tonight," she whispered, and stood back up. Harry scrambled up and hurried to his cupboard. But before he could get inside, his aunt exited the living room.  
  
"What are you doing?" she snapped.  
  
"Nothing," he answered quickly.  
  
His aunt narrowed her eyes, and turned her eyes on the door to the kitchen. Harry looked too, and saw his uncle draining his glass.  
  
"We're leaving now," she said softly. Aunt Petunia sighed, and turned to him. "Go in there and make sure he keeps drinking until he passes out. Be best if he didn't see us packing."  
  
"Now?" Harry said, feeling like he should point out that his uncle didn't need help.  
  
"Yes, boy, now go do as you're told!"  
  
Harry opened the kitchen door, and darted in. Vernon didn't notice him. Slowly, Harry crept over to the liquor cabinet, and quickly opened the glass door, and then carefully withdrew a bottle of scotch. Harry turned around and found himself nose to nose with his uncle.  
  
Gulping, Harry glanced down at the bottle in his hands.  
  
"Oh, sho she shends her nepew to get my whishkey, does she?" Vernon growled.  
  
"No, no, I was-" Harry stammered, racking his brain for excuses.  
  
"Stealing from me, then?" Vernon hiccuped, and snatched the bottle away from him. He unscrewed the lid, and drank heavily. Air bubbles rose to the bottom of the bottle, as Vernon swallowed. He lowered the bottle, and looked down on Harry, his eyes bloodshot and face ruddy.  
  
"You know, I regret taking you in more and more every day," he slurred. "Fact, I'd blame you for my incresh… incrash… loads of drinking."  
  
"Do you?" Harry squeaked.  
  
"Oh, yeah," his uncle burped, and Harry coughed as the torrid smell of whiskey mixed with the leftovers from his uncle's last dozens meals washed over him. His uncle laughed at him, and stumbled back to the dinning room table, and sank into his chair.  
  
"You're the strangest thing I ever met, you are," he rumbled.  
  
"You think?" Harry said with raised eyebrows.  
  
Vernon took another swig of the scotch, and stared at him, cross-eyed. "I wouldn't have married that woman had I known 'bout her good fer nothin' sithter."  
  
"You mean my mother?"  
  
"Yeah, her. She a crazy bitch, I heard."  
  
Harry felt anger rise in him. He wasn't exactly sure what 'bitch' meant, whenever Dudley said it, Aunt Petunia shushed him, and Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, always referred to her female dogs as 'bitches.'  
  
"She wasn't."  
  
His uncle cocked his head.  
  
"Wadn't what?"  
  
"A- a bitch."  
  
Vernon laughed deeply, and swigged at his scotch. "You don't even know what it mean, do ya?"  
  
"No, but I know my mother was not one."  
  
He laughed again, and set the bottle on the table. "Doesn't matter now. She dead as a doorknob. Gone and blown up."  
  
"Blown up?"  
  
"Argh, blown up. Mad girl, she was. Funny thing, she was, and that husband o' hers."  
  
"But you said my parents died in a car crash."  
  
"Argh."  
  
"But my mother blew up?"  
  
"Don't ask questions," Vernon snapped. "Best you don't know."  
  
"Know what? What are you hiding from me?"  
  
"You don't need to know!" Vernon roared.  
  
"Tell me!" Harry yelled back, advanced on him. The kitchen door burst open, and Aunt Petunia ran in.  
  
"Harry Potter, calm yourself!" she gasped. "You'll wake up the whole neighborhood."  
  
"But- but he won't tell me about it!"  
  
"About what?" Petunia turned to her husband, glaring at him in disgust.  
  
"Blew up, she did," he growled. "Not my fault. She had it coming." His uncle's eyelids drooped as he took another gulp of the scotch.  
  
Petunia's face paled; she grabbed Harry's elbow, and dragged him through the door into the front hall. She slammed the kitchen door shut. One of the stained glass panels cracked.  
  
"Your uncle doesn't know what he's talking about," she said in a hushed voice.  
  
"He was talking about my mother!"  
  
"She didn't exactly blow up."  
  
"Then what happened?"  
  
"I've told you before, she and your father died in a car crash."  
  
"Then-"  
  
"The gas tank exploded. That's what your uncle was talking about. Here, take this," she shoved a ratty rucksack into my arms, "pack your things."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Don’t ask questions!" she snapped, and stomped away, upstairs. Harry sighed, and opened his cupboard door. The packing went quickly, and, after retrieving the last few socks from under his bed, he latched the flap of the bag shut, and left his cupboard. Dropping it at the foot of the stairs, he climbed them dejectedly, and went into his aunt's room. She stood by the window, staring down at something in her hands.  
  
Harry stepped forward, glancing at the suitcase on the bed. It was full of neatly folded clothes. He glanced back at his aunt. She hadn't notice him. Harry turned to the dresser, and checked the drawers. They were empty. He went to the closet, and started to remove his aunt dresses. He laid the first load out on the bed, so his aunt could select the ones she wanted to keep.  
  
"Aunt Petunia?"  
  
"What?" she turned around, hiding whatever it was behind her back.  
  
"Where's your hanging bag?"  
  
"My- oh, on the closet shelf."  
  
Harry nodded, and fetched the bag. He put in the dresses and skirt suits he knew his aunt liked best, while Petunia finished with the suitcase. After a while, Dudley wandered in to report he had packed his favorite toys and all his clothes. Aunt Petunia then stunned both Harry and Dudley by telling her son that he had to leave his toys behind. Dudley whined and cried, but Aunt Petunia was firm. Eventually, Dudley, grumbling under his breath, agreed and went to put the toys back. After that, Aunt Petunia called a taxi company, and arranged for transport to London.  
  
Finally, Aunt Petunia was ready to leave. Both Dudley and Harry pitched in to carry her bags downstairs, Dudley taking her purse and Harry taking the suitcase and hanging bag. The clock read 9:58. Aunt Petunia wrote Uncle Vernon a note, and she taped it to the kitchen door. Uncle Vernon was slumped over on the table. Dudley waved half-heartedly at him as he left the house. Harry grabbed his rucksack, and carted it along with his aunt's bags out to the driveway. The taxi pulled up, and Harry loaded the bags into the trunk, and tossed his aunt's purse in the front seat. Then, the front door burst open.  
  
Uncle Vernon strode across the front lawn. Aunt Petunia shielded Dudley behind her. Harry had a brief vision of a red haired woman doing the same thing in front of him.  
  
"Where are you going?" Uncle Vernon growled. Aunt Petunia clenched her jaw.  
  
"I told you, I'm leaving. I've had enough of your drinking and faithlessness. I'm taking these two with me."  
  
"And I told you," Vernon stuck his ruddy purple face in hers, "I won't let you go."  
  
"If you touch me, or my son," Aunt Petunia squeaked, "You'll be arrested!"  
  
Vernon grabbed her arm. The taxi driver honked his horn. Harry rushed forward and Dudley gasped.  
  
"You're not going anywhere," Vernon sneered. "Dudley, get in the house."  
  
Dudley whimpered, shrinking against the taxi.  
  
"I told you to get in the house!" Vernon snapped.  
  
"Get in the taxi," Petunia said.  
  
"Ignore her!"  
  
"Dudley, get in the car."  
  
Dudley opened the car door, and climbed in. Vernon glared at his wife.  
  
"You dare defy me?"  
  
"I'm keeping my son safe."  
  
Harry felt a twinge of sadness. What about his safety?  
  
"It's your safety you should be worried about," Vernon hissed, and he slugged her in the gut. Aunt Petunia fell to her knees, crying out in pain. Harry yelled "Stop!" Lights turned on along the street. Vernon kicked Aunt Petunia, she collapsed with a grunt, and he turned on Harry. Harry backed away, into the road.  
  
"This is your fault," Vernon growled. "If you weren't such a nuisance-”  
  
"Don’t blame me, I didn't make you drink!" Harry said quickly.  
  
"Argh, but you were the reason. We should have left you on the street, you filthy thing."  
  
Harry felt anger boil up inside him.  
  
"Sometimes I wish you did!" Harry snapped.  
  
"You drove her away from me!"  
  
"You did it on your own!"  
  
Vernon lunged at him, hands outstretched; his bloodshot eyes alight with fury. Harry reacted instinctively: He held his hands out in front of him, and shut his eyes. There was a flash of golden light, and Harry peeked through his lashes. His uncle sat on his rump on the pavement. There was a shimmery substance between Harry and his uncle.  
  
Confused, Harry lowered his arms, and stared at his dazed uncle.  
  
"Harry, get in the car!" his aunt snapped. Harry shook his head, and the shimmering wall vanished.  
  
"Now!"  
  
Harry did as he was told, and climbed into the taxi. His aunt took the front seat.  
  
"What the hell just happened there?" the taxi driver asked.  
  
"Just take us to King's Cross Station, in London," Petunia snapped. "Quickly!"  
  
The driver floored the accelerator, and in no time at all, they were rolling down the highway to London.  



	2. Prologue/The Boy Who Dreamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

****

**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG  
  
Two: Strange Things  
  
Harry**

  
  
The taxi pulled up outside Kings Cross train station shortly before midnight. Aunt Petunia took them in, put their bags on a trolley, and stopped at a ticket booth. She conversed with the man on duty for a while, and then purchased three tickets to Ottery St. Catchpole, a small town, she said, in Devon. She did not explain her reason for choosing this destination. Harry shouldered his and Dudley's rucksacks, while Aunt Petunia gave Dudley the task of dragging her suitcase. She draped the strap to the small hanging bag from her shoulders with her purse, grunting as she did so.  
  
"Our train leaves at 5:30," she said in a tired voice. "We'll stay in an inn tonight." She led them out of King's Cross. Standing on the curb outside, Harry felt very awake, even exhilarated. The rush of the cars speeding past, the chatter from the many pubs and taverns, even the neon signs and street lamps lighting the road, all gave him so much to look at.  
  
"Take my hand," Aunt Petunia said. Dudley took it eagerly, looking around in fear. Harry kept his hands to himself, assuming his aunt meant Dudley.  
  
"Harry, I said take my hand," his aunt snapped. Harry blinked, stunned.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I said so!" she said, grabbing his hand. "Come on. And don't let go." Aunt Petunia pulled them down the streets, her grip on their hands tight. Harry glanced at Dudley, who looked just as confused as Harry felt. His aunt never showed any positive feelings for him, let alone care. And twice that day, she'd shown protectiveness of him.  
  
_Guess there's a first time for everything._  
  
_Hey, why are you still awake?_ His friend said in a groggy voice.  
  
_We have to find an inn first._  
  
_What?_  
  
Quickly, Harry explained to her what had happened, from the funny phone calls to his aunt's sudden need to protect him. He left out the bit about his mother, and the strange shield thing he'd conjured.  
  
_Wow,_ She said. _Just, wow. And you're headed for Ottery St. Catchpole?_ Her voice sounded excited, but also confused. In his mind's eye, he imagined her standing in front of a mirror, frowning at her reflection.  
  
_Yeah. I think the person my aunt was talking to after dinner lives there. Either that or they're meeting us there._  
  
_I hope it's the former._  
  
_Why?_  
  
_Because I live in Ottery St. Catchpole!_  
  
_What? You're kidding!_  
  
_No! Well, not really in the town, near it, but in the area. Maybe…_ She trailed off, and he imagined her frowning harder. Outside his mind, his aunt stopped at the edge of the curb, waiting to cross the street. Ahead, Harry could see a sign advertising Bailey's Inn & Tavern. He guessed that was where his aunt was taking them.  
  
_Maybe what?_  
  
_Nothing, it doesn't matter._  
  
_Yes it does._ Harry focused on her voice, and strained to read her mind. He saw a thought floating in her mind.  
  
_Maybe I could visit you?_ He said. In the real world, Aunt Petunia led them across the street, she paused, and let go of his hand. Startled, Harry glanced at her. Then she put her arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close. She did the same to Dudley, whispering to him to stay close to her. Harry glanced around, and saw why. Ahead of them, a group of raucous men and women stood outside a pub, laughing and drinking from mugs of beer. They quickly noticed Harry, and his aunt and cousin, and shouted to them. A few of the women threw back their heads' and laughed, but one or two of the group hushed them. One girl in particular, holding a tray and wearing an apron, yelled "SHUT IT!" The group fell silent, except for a few whispers, and giggles. The woman, Harry assumed she was the waitress, stepped toward them.  
  
"Can I help you?" she said. Harry noticed that she had bright orange hair, pulled into two loose braids. The strands of hair escaping from her braids were frizzy, and Harry guessed that if she hadn't contained the rest of her hair, it'd look like she had a habit of sticking her fingers in electrical outlets.  
  
"No, thank you," Aunt Petunia said, her voice clipped. She tightened her grip on Harry and Dudley. The waitress glanced at Dudley, and then her eyes fell on Harry. She glanced up at his forehead, and a look of surprise, almost awe crossed her face.  
  
"These two yours?"  
  
"I don't believe that is any of your business," Aunt Petunia snapped. The waitress held up a hand.  
  
"I don't wanna be nosy, miss, but you might wanna head back the way you came with those two. Bit young for this neighborhood."  
  
"I realize that."  
  
The waitress' eyes narrowed. "Where's your husband?"  
  
"Again, not your business."  
  
"You headed for Bailey's?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, we are."  
  
"Best cross the street. Aim for Mrs. Honeycomb's B and B. She's a hell of a lot simpler, and what with the kids, Bailey's might not be the best."  
  
"We'll only be staying the night."  
  
"Bailey's get a lot of people like you, and a lot of them regret goin' there."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The place is over-rated. The cheapest room is practically a closet."  
  
"Had lots of experience with those," Harry muttered. The waitress glanced at him, then back at Aunt Petunia.  
  
"Not only that but it sees a lot of one nighters, if you know what I mean. And the walls are pretty thin. With a bit of rotten luck, you'll end up right next to one. You really want those two to overhear that?"  
  
Aunt Petunia stiffened. Then she glanced across the street. Harry did too, following her gaze to a quaint looking three story building. The sign said Honeycomb Bed  & Breakfast.  
  
"What's the charge for one night at the B and B?"  
  
"Pretty cheap, considering the quality. I live there meself. Mrs. Honeycomb is sweet as can be, and she doesn't allow one nighters of that kind if she can help it."  
  
"Mum, what's a one niter?"  
  
"Never mind that, pumpkin," she said quickly. Harry opened his mouth, but Aunt Petunia shushed him.  
  
"Thank you, miss," Aunt Petunia said. "We're very grateful."  
  
"No problem," she said. Her eyes fell on Harry.  
  
"How old are they?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"How old are they?" the waitress repeated. Behind her, one of the men shouted for another pint. She waved him off, her eyes returning to Aunt Petunia.  
  
"Eleven, and ten," Aunt Petunia said.  
  
"Which one's older?"  
  
"Me," Dudley said. He grinned.  
  
"Oh, yeah?" the waitress smiled at him. "You hungry?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said.  
  
"Wait here a minute, then." The waitress said, and then, smiling kindly at Harry, she hurried into the pub. Aunt Petunia hesitated, squeezing Harry's shoulder.  
  
A minute later, the waitress returned, pushing through the crowd. She wasn't wearing her apron anymore, and was holding a plastic bag in one hand.  
  
"I'll take you over to Mrs. Honeycomb's," she said. Aunt Petunia opened her mouth, but the lady shook her head.  
  
"It's no trouble and my shift's over, anyway," she said, "follow me."  
  
She crossed the street. Harry followed her, and Aunt Petunia followed him. On the other side, the lady led the way to the quaint Bed and Breakfast.  
  
"By the way, I'm Anna," she said as she opened the door to the inn.  
  
"I'm Harry," Harry said. "This is Aunt Petunia, and Dudley."  
  
"It's very nice to meet you," she said, smiling again. Her eyes rested on Harry again. Then she ushered them into the inn.  
  
The parlor before them was very cozy, and warm. Chintz armchairs and matching little couches sat in front of a heart. A crackling fire burned in the grate, and a round rug lined the ground. A desk and a straight backed chair sat on Harry's left. Ahead, a hallway led to the back, and a staircase led to the upper floors Anna smiled at the room.  
  
"Best inn in London," she said. "Have a seat, I'll fetch Mrs. Honeycomb." She dropped the bag on the desk, and headed up the stairs. Dudley slipped out from under Aunt Petunia's arm let the suitcase fall to the ground, and flopped onto a couch. Harry followed his cousin, flinging the two heavy rucksacks by the suitcase, and dropped into an armchair. The cushions were soft, and warm from the fire. He felt tired instantly, and curled up in the chair, ready to fall asleep right then and there. Then, he suddenly felt a warm breeze on the back of his neck. He glanced around, feeling a sense of familiarity, like he'd been there before.  
  
_Hey!_  
  
_What?_  
  
_You gonna answer me?_  
  
_Oh. Answer what?_  
  
_Are you going to visit me?_  
  
Harry felt his insides twist, and knot together. Visit her? How?  
  
"Welcome!" Harry sat up, and glanced over to the staircase. A plump woman with graying brown hair and dressed in a faded flowery dressing gown stepped forward, smiling broadly at them. Anna stood right behind her, smiling satisfactorily. The plump woman's eyes landed on him, and then traveled upward, onto his forehead. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze, and reached a hand up to push his fringe over his scar.  
  
"Ooh, you poor dears," the old lady simpered, stepping forward and grabbing Harry's hand. “You're cold as ice. Come, come, you two," she gestured for Harry and Dudley to get up; “you ought to be sound asleep."  
  
"Uh, Mrs. Honeycomb?"  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"We'd like to stay here tonight; do you have a room for us?"  
  
"Oh, of course," Mrs. Honeycomb said. "Just write your name on the slip of paper there, dear, and I'll show you to your room."  
  
"Shouldn't I pay first?"  
  
"Oh, my guest's always pay in the morning, dear," Mrs. Honeycomb said. She crossed to the desk and handed Aunt Petunia a pen. "Cash or check, though dear, when you do pay."  
  
"Well, we'll be leaving early tomorrow, so would you mind if I paid now?"  
  
"Oh, you go right ahead, love."  
  
Aunt Petunia nodded, and pulled her checkbook out of her purse. "How much?"  
  
"Depends, do you want separate rooms?"  
  
"Ah, well, maybe, how much is one room?"  
  
"Forty pounds."  
  
Aunt Petunia raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. "Two rooms then," she said, turning back to her checkbook. She signed it quickly, and handed it to Mrs. Honeycomb. Mrs. Honeycomb smiled, said thank you, and then tucked the check into her pocket. She pulled a ring of keys from a drawer in the desk, and crossed to the staircase. Harry followed her, grabbing his and Dudley's bags as he went, with Dudley and Aunt Petunia following him with the rest of the luggage. Anna trailed behind them, holding her plastic bag.  
  
Mrs. Honeycomb stopped at the second floor, and turned down a hallway. Harry looked around, surprised. He expected to see electric lights lining the walls but instead, he saw old fashioned gas lamps, hanging from hooks in the walls. He even saw lanterns with candles. There were no electric outlets in the walls, either. It looked like what Harry expected a 19th century inn to look like. Except he could still hear the rush of cars and the shouting of drunks through an open window.  
  
Mrs. Honeycomb stopped halfway down the hall, and riffled through her ring of keys. Harry strained his neck, looking at the keys. They were the old fashioned type, big and rusty brass. What were they called? Bone keys?  
  
_Skeleton keys…_ her voice came to him soft, and full of surprise.  
  
_What are skeleton keys, again?_  
  
_Those, nitwit; I use skeleton keys in my house, and so do most Wizarding families, if they don't use magic._  
  
_Right. Why doesn’t she use regular keys?_  
  
_Honeycomb Bed and Breakfast…_ She said, ignoring his question. _I think I've stayed there once. Yeah, I have. Mum took me to London for my ninth birthday, and we stayed in Honeycomb Bed and Breakfast, because the Leaky Cauldron was all filled up._  
  
_All right, so four creepy things have happened today; what's next?_  
  
"Here you are, dears," Mrs. Honeycomb said, unlocking the door. She stepped inside, and light poured from the room. "I assume the boys will stay here?"  
  
Aunt Petunia glanced into the room. Harry did too; and again was surprised at the lack of electric items. There were two gas lamps, one sitting on a table between two twin beds, and one on a dresser. Also on the dresser, sat a ceramic bowl, patterned with faded blue flowers, and matching pitcher. The floor was hardwood, like the floors in the rest of the inn. Aunt Petunia dropped her hanging bag on the floor by one of the beds.  
  
"Dudley and I will stay here," she said. "Harry can stay in the other room."  
  
Mrs. Honeycomb frowned, but didn't say anything. Harry disentangled Dudley's bag from his, and dropped it on the floor.  
  
"Well, here's the key," Mrs. Honeycomb said. "Bathroom's three doors down on the left, I'm upstairs, and Anna's right next door. Yell if you need me." Mrs. Honeycomb shut the door, and shook her head.  
  
"It's a crying shame she's leaving you all by your lonesome, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Honeycomb said, turning to the other wall. Harry froze, stunned, while Mrs. Honeycomb fumbled with her keys.  
  
"You think you'll be all right by yourself, Harry?" Anna asked. Her eyes were wide, and full of something… concern? Harry was further shocked.  
  
"There you go, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Honeycomb said, unlocking the door. Then, she pulled something from her dressing gown pocket, a long thin stick. She brandished it at the room, and the lights came on. Harry's jaw fell open.  
  
"How- how…" he stammered.  
  
"It's a simple charm, Mr. Potter. You'll probably learn it at Hogwarts this year."  
  
"Oh, next term, I'm sure," Anna said, "they learn mostly theory first term."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, my cousin Molly's children are students there, and none of them learned household charms until the second term of their first year."  
  
Harry shut his mouth, feeling rather stupid.  
  
"Er, excuse me?"  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"What- er, how- first, how do you know my name?"  
  
"Well, everyone knows your name, Mr. Potter. You're the Boy Who Lived," Mrs. Honeycomb said.  
  
"I'm- I'm what?"  
  
"Oh, my!" Anna clapped her hands to her mouth. Slowly, she lowered them. "I don't think he knows!"  
  
"Knows what?"  
  
"Dear, how did you get that cut on your forehead?" Mrs. Honeycomb asked.  
  
"In the car crash, when my parents died."  
  
"You're name is Harry Potter, right?" Anna said, holding the plastic bag closer to her chest.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And what were your parents' names?"  
  
"James and Lily," Harry said, glancing between the elderly inn keeper and the waitress.  
  
"It's definitely him," Mrs. Honeycomb said.  
  
"Then why-" Anna stopped mid sentence. In creepy unison, Mrs. Honeycomb and Anna both turned towards the door to Aunt Petunia and Dudley's room.  
  
"That's why," they said.  
  
"What's why?"  
  
"You haven't got your Hogwarts letter, then?" Anna asked.  
  
"My- my what?"  
  
"She's hidden it from him, I bet," Anna said.  
  
"Or she doesn't know."  
  
"That lady-"  
  
"Aunt Petunia?"  
  
"Yeah, her. Is she really your aunt?"  
  
"Yes," Harry was thoroughly confused now. What were they talking about?  
  
"On your father's side?"  
  
"No, my mother's side."  
  
"She'll have to know then. Obviously, she hid it from him," Mrs. Honeycomb said.  
  
"Hid what from me?"  
  
"Well, maybe she didn't tell him for a reason," Anna suggested.  
  
"Maybe. A thing like that could really mess with a child."  
  
"A thing like what?" Harry asked.  
  
"Should we tell him, Mrs. H?"  
  
"I don't think so, Anna," Mrs. Honeycomb said. "We'll leave it be."  
  
With that, Mrs. Honeycomb handed Harry the key to his room, and walked away.  
  
"Miss Anna?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What's Hogwarts?"  
  
"Oh, dear," Anna rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, it's a school."  
  
"Oh. I've never heard of it."  
  
"It's a private school. In Scotland, I think."  
  
"Why would I have a letter from them?"  
  
"Well, er, it's complicated, Harry. Best put it out of your mind." Anna looked down at the bag in her hands. "Oh, I almost forgot!" She handed him the bag. "Homemade pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, some sugar quills, and a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. Be careful with the beans, some of them are right nasty." Anna then turned on her heel, unlocked the door next to Aunt Petunia's, and stepped inside, shutting the door.  
  
Harry looked down at the bag in his hands, then at Anna's door. Shaking his head, Harry entered his room, and shut his door. The room was smaller than the one his aunt and cousin occupied, but just as cozy. There was a bed bearing a patchwork quilt, a night stand with a gas lamp, a dresser with two bowls and pitcher and another lamp, this time burning a candle, a full length mirror by the dresser, and a hearth.  
  
Harry stepped towards the hearth. Like the one downstairs, it was lit. The fire set the walls dancing in its glow. On the mantel, two pretty glass jars sat. One of potpourri, the other one full of a grayish green powder that he couldn't recognize. A miniature grandfather clock sat between the two jars. The hands read 1:24. Harry turned to the bed. The thing was honestly enormous. Bigger than his aunt and uncle's bed, back in Little Whinging. He assumed this one to be a king size bed, because his aunt's was a queen. Harry dropped his rucksack and the plastic bag onto it, and ran a hand over the quilt. It was soft in some places, rough in others. He liked it.  
  
Harry pulled back the covers, and felt the sheets. They were soft, and fuzzy. Flannel. Harry grinned. Tonight might just be the best night of his life.  
  
Eager to get to sleep, Harry pulled his pajamas from his bag, and pulled off his shirt. Harry rubbed his hands over his bare arms. They were filthy from all his work. He raised an arm, and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He dropped his shirt on the floor, and glanced around. His eyes fell on the bowl and pitcher. A rag and a bar of soap sat there. Stepping forward, Harry peered into the bowls. One was full of clean, clear water. The other was empty. Harry picked up the rag, and dipped it into the water. Surprisingly, it was warm. Harry shrugged, and dropped the soap into the bowl. Quickly, he washed his upper body, and once he was finished there, he rid himself of the rest of his dirty clothes, and washed the rest of him. His feet stank, but were mostly clean.  
  
Along the way, Harry figured out that the second bowl was for dirty water. He squeezed out the rag over it, and then dipped it back in the clean water. Eventually, he was clean, and he dressed himself in clean underwear and his pajamas. Just then, the clock chimed out 2 o'clock. Harry felt very tired by this time, and he slipped into the bed. The blankets were warm, and the mattress was soft. His head hit the pillows, and he closed his eyes.  
  
_Oi!_  
  
_What?_ Harry said sleepily.  
  
_We need to talk about this. Right?_  
  
_No. And honestly, I just want to fall asleep._  
  
_Hey! Listen to me!_  
  
Harry felt very annoyed at her insistence, but rubbed his eyes and focused.  
  
_So… what are we talking about?_  
  
_You are an absolute idiot._  
  
_Okay,_ Harry yawned.  
  
_We're talking about what's happening!_  
  
_What's happening?_  
  
_I- I don't know._  
  
_So why are you keeping me awake?_  
  
_You're not hearing me! Something mad is going on._  
  
_Yeah, Aunt Petunia carted me and Dudley of to London in the middle of the night,_ Harry grumbled.  
  
_And she's taking you to my hometown._  
  
_Can we deal with this in the morning? Please?_  
  
_You'll have to visit me._  
  
_How?_  
  
_I have no clue._  
  
_Good night._  
  
_Hey!_  
  
Harry ignored her. She kept on babbling about Ottery St. Catchpole and him visiting her, but Harry had already fallen asleep.  



	3. Ginny's Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys; been very busy over Thanksgiving! Don't forget to review!

  
Th ree: Ginny's Day Out  
  
Ginny  
  
  
The next morning dawned warm and bright. Ginny rolled over in her bed, blocking the light spilling in from her window. She was tired, and her mind felt worked beyond belief from her night's dream. She'd dreamt that her imaginary friend was coming to visit her. She'd seen snippets of London in her dream, eavesdropped on some of his conversations, and even thought she'd seen Cousin Anna Prewett.  
  
Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes. She yawned and stretched, and turned to look at her clock. It was a cuckoo clock, and sat on her desk. The hands read 8:22.  
  
_Hello?_  
  
Ginny smiled as the voice of her imaginary friend floated into her head.  
  
_Hi. Thanks for waiting for me to wake up._  
  
_No problem. I happen to be a good person who appreciates sleep. Unlike someone else I could mention._  
  
_Sorry._  
  
_Apology accepted. I'm on the train._  
  
_Oh, yeah! When will you be here?_  
  
_Aunt Petunia said since we left at seven o'clock-_  
  
_I thought it left at five thirty?_  
  
_It was late._  
  
_Oh. Continue._  
  
_Anyway, we left at seven so we should be there about eleven o'clock._  
  
_I think Mum is taking me into the village this afternoon. We're celebrating._  
  
_Celebrating what?_  
  
_I got my Hogwarts letter yesterday! Dad took Ron out already, but Mum wanted to have a girl's afternoon._  
  
_Good for you, He said. For some reason, he sounded a little confused to her. Ah, did Ron happen to look horrified when he came back?_  
  
_I- I didn't notice. Why?_  
  
_Just a thought. Be prepared for the_ Talk.  
  
_What talk?_  
  
_The_ Talk.  
  
_You're making no sense._  
  
_You know, where babies come from and all._  
  
_Oh, yuck!_  
  
_Yeah, that Talk._  
  
_Changing the subject. Keep me posted on your progress. I want every little detail._  
  
_Okay. Dudley just puked._  
  
_Eww!_  
  
_You want more details on that?_  
  
_No, I meant- forget it._  
  
_Don't worry, I'll let you know everything that happens._  
  
_Keep it G rated, please._  
  
_Says the girl who knows more swear words than even my uncle does._  
  
_I'm sure he has plenty hidden up his sleeve that I don't know._  
  
_Oh, of course._  
  
"Ginny!"  
  
Ginny jumped out of bed, crossed her room to the door, opened it, and stuck her head out.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Ginny, love, get ready to leave! We're going to the village in about half an hour!" her mother called.  
  
Ginny's heart leapt. "Yes, Mum!"  
  
She ducked back inside her room, and shut the door. She stepped over to her closet, and started going through it. She pushed aside old Sunday dresses that no longer fit and fancy clothes her grandmother had made that she had never worn, searching for what to wear. Usually, jeans and a tee shirt would have been fine, and preferable, but today, Ginny felt like dressing up. Near the back of her closet, she stopped. She cocked her head, and then pulled out the dress. It was a creamy white, one of the ones her older cousins gave her. She held it up against her, turning to her mirror. She studied it, wondering whether or not she was willing to wear it. It was really a pretty dress and simple too. The fabric was lacy but not fancy. The hem reached her knees easily. The sleeves would stop just above her elbow.  
  
Ginny shook her head, and put it back. She riffled through the closet some more, pausing at some of the more plain dresses. A green wrap around patterned with orange flowers. A peachy pink Sunday dress that probably would be too small. A dark blue dress with a sailor collar. Another lacy dress, this time a light brown. A baby blue skirt with a matching sweater. Ginny stopped, and pulled out the skirt and sweater. The skirt was made of a soft fleecy fabric, one of those skirts that made you want to twirl around and watch it flare. The sweater was too, but was decorated with little plastic jewels. Ginny put the sweater back. But she laid the skirt out on her bed, and turned to her dresser. She pulled a plain white tee shirt from a drawer, and clean underclothes from another. She quickly dressed, and then started searching for some shoes. Finally, she dropped to the ground and dug a pair of white sandals from underneath her bed. Ginny slipped them on, stepped in front of her mirror, and examined herself. She looked girlish, and Ginny liked it.  
  
She grabbed a hair clip from off her dresser, twisted her hair up into a knot and fastened it with the clip. She pulled a pair of jean shorts from a drawer, and pulled them on underneath her skirt, just in case she decided the skirt was getting to be too much.  
  
"Ginny, darling, almost time to go!"  
  
"Coming Mum!"  
  
She left her room, and took the stairs two at a time. Mum waited for her at the bottom of the stairs.  
  
"Well, don't you look lovely!" Mum said, grinning. "Spin for me, precious."  
  
Ginny giggled, and did a lopsided pirouette. Mum laughed, and took her hands before she fell over.  
  
"We're going to have a wonderful time, my pet!" Mum told her, smiling warmly.  
  
“Mum, guess what,” Ginny said.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Guess!” Ginny said, giggling.  
  
Her mother smiled and tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You found a unicorn?”  
  
Ginny laughed, but shook her head.  
  
“Ooh!” Mum snapped her fingers and grinned. “I've got it! Harry Potter's coming to visit!”  
  
Ginny blushed scarlet. “No, Mum, but somebody is coming to visit.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“My friend, the one I told you about.”  
  
Mum's smile faltered for a second. “Your imaginary friend?”  
  
Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. “Mum, he's real! And he's coming here!”  
  
Mum sighed, and smiled wearily. “If you say so, Ginny,” she said, leaving Ginny very unsatisfied, and then she turned back to the stairs. "BOYS!" she yelled. Bangs and shouts came from the upper floors of the Burrow, and soon, every single one of brothers bounded down the stairs, and lined up for their mother, in varying forms of disarray and wakefulness or lack of. Her twin, Ron, in particular looked like he'd been dragged from bed, and from the way he was glaring at Fred and George, he probably had been  
  
"All right, listen up," Mum said. "Ginny and I are going out for the day. While we're gone, I want you all to clean your rooms."  
  
Collective groans issued from her brothers, except Percy. He was already dressed with his hair combed (though still bright pink), glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose, and his brand new prefect badge pinned to his polo. Obviously, his room was already clean.  
  
"No buts!" Mum said. "Ginny and I will be back around two o'clock this afternoon, I'm guessing. When we get back, I want to see clean rooms, and clean boys. It's all right if you're not done when we get back, but that doesn't mean you can slack off, you hear me?"  
  
The boys nodded, Fred and George saluted playfully, and Percy said in a somber voice "Yes, Mother."  
  
"Good. Bill's in charge. If you finish your room before I get back, help one of your brothers, all right?"  
  
"How come Ginny doesn't have to clean her room?" Ron grumbled.  
  
"Because she cleaned it yesterday," Mum said. "You lot ought to take a leaf out her book and tidy up every night so your rooms don't get messy in the first place."  
  
"Mother, my room is already tidy," Percy drawled, "Must I help the others?"  
  
"Yes, Percy," Mum said. "Please help Ron; his room looks like a particularly angry tornado went through it."  
  
Ron scowled her description of his room, but said nothing.  
  
"What about our room?" George whined.  
  
"How come we don’t get help?" Fred continued.  
  
"Because you two share a room, boys. You help each other."  
  
"So?" the twins chorused.  
  
"So you can do by yourself. Bill, around noon, heat up some leftovers; I think there's half a pot roast in the icebox. And if you find you're still hungry after cleaning out the ice box, then make sandwiches."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Bill said.  
  
"Mum, has my letter from the Dragon Reserve come yet?" Charlie asked.  
  
"Yes, dear, it's on the kitchen table," Mum said, gesturing to the kitchen. Charlie pumped his fists, and hurried into the kitchen. "Oh, Percy, after lunch, could you start on dinner? I've got everything laid out for pot pies."  
  
"Yes, Mother."  
  
"Thank you dear," Mum smiled at him, then turned to Fred and George with a determined expression on her face. Charlie re-entered the room as Mum advanced on her older set of twins.  
  
"Now, before you start on your room, I want you to fix Percy's hair."  
  
"Mum!" they groaned. "We told you," George said.  
  
"It'll go away on its own," continued Fred.  
  
"Just wait a few days!" the twins finished.  
  
"I don't want to wait. Fix his hair. I want no pink hair in this house when I come back, are we clear?"  
  
"Yes, Mum," they grumbled.  
  
"Good," Mum said, a little more gently, and hugged the two. She then entrapped Ron into her arms, then Percy, who patted her stiffly on the back, then Bill, and finally Charlie, who was focusing on the letter in his hands. Ginny, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, waited while her brothers said good bye a little impatiently. In the back of her mind, her imaginary friend's side, she heard a train whistle, and snoring. She guessed He was asleep.  
  
"Good bye," Mum said. Mum stepped over to her, and opened the door. Ginny turned to go, but hesitated. Then she turned back, and ran to Bill. Bill grunted theatrically as she collided with him. She hugged him tightly around the middle.  
  
"Bye, Bill," Ginny said.  
  
"Bye, Firefly," he said with a kind smile. "See you after lunch." Ginny grinned at him, and then, waving to her other brothers, she skipped out the door, grabbing her mother's hand as she went.  
  
In the yard, Mum led her to the family's beat up Ford Anglia, while fiddling with the keys to the car. After they climbed in- Mum let her sit up front!- Mum started the car and they rolled out of the yard and down the dirt road to the highway. They drove for about half an hour, and by the time they reached the village, it was past nine thirty.  
  
"What are we doing first, Mum?" Ginny asked as her mother parked the car in front of the local grocery.  
  
"I thought we'd go window shopping," Mum said, opening her door. Ginny got out too, locking her door as she went.  
  
"Good girl," Mum beamed at her. "Come on, there's a flea market over yonder. I'd thought we'd have a look."  
  
"Why would someone sell fleas?"  
  
"Oh, it's just a name. A flea market is a collection of little shops that sell various things. You never know what you'll find in a flea market."  
  
"Okay," Ginny said. She took her mother's hand, and they left the parking lot. Mum and Ginny talked about this and that while they walked down the road. Mum told her about the day she received her Hogwarts letter, and Ginny laughed loudly at her mother's memory of accidentally getting her Uncle Gideon's letter instead of her own. Since the pair of them both had mild dyslexia, they hadn’t paid close enough attention to the name’s on the front of the envelope or the “Dear Miss/Mr. Prewett.”  
  
"It really said you had already passed your OWL's?" Ginny giggled.  
  
"It did," Mum chuckled. "And your uncle was very confused at his lack of OWL results. Oh, the look on his face when he saw his first year book list; I thought he was going to have a heart attack."  
  
"I'm glad I got my letter, and not Percy's," Ginny said. "I bet I would have been the youngest prefect in history!"  
  
Mum laughed, and then pointed. Ahead, there was the local Muggle high school's soccer field. It was crowded with people, cars, tables, boxes, and all sorts of things.  
  
"Whoa," Ginny gasped.  
  
"Your first flea market."  
  
"Come on!" Ginny squealed, and tugged her mother forward. They spent the next hour wandering through the little stalls and vendors. They didn't buy anything other than a bag of cotton candy. Around ten thirty, Mum suggested they head back into the village and get some brunch. That's when she saw it.  
  
It was a display set up over two long card tables. Covering it was a mix of objects: stuffed animals, porcelain dolls, packs of cards and paper weights. But what caught Ginny's eye was the display of jewelry. Specifically, a necklace with blue and whitish stones strung along it. Most of the items were in boxes, and the saleswoman was loading the boxes into the bed of a rusty pickup truck.  
  
"Mum, look!" she pointed, and her mother looked.  
  
"My, my, that is pretty," Mum said. Ginny ran over to the stand, her eyes fixed on the necklace.  
  
"Hello, hello!" said the woman attending the stand. She looked old, older than Ginny's mother, but her eyes, bright green, glinted with mirth and youth. She brushed off her hands, and stepped forward. "See anything you like?"  
  
"That necklace," Ginny said, pointing to it. "It looks very interesting." And it did. The chain was silver, and other little chains branch off from it, with little white stones that shone blue in the light at the ends of each little chain.  
  
The woman smiled and nodded. "You have a good eye, little girl. That necklace has quite a story behind it."  
  
"It does?"  
  
"Oh, yes. It's been in my family for years. The story goes that my great-great-great-aunt received it as a gift from the man she hoped to marry."  
  
"She did?"  
  
"Yes. Now, this man was a sailor, but a very kind one. He loved my aunt very much, so much, he asked her to marry him. Somewhere, there's an engagement ring that matches the necklace, but it was lost decades ago. But before they were married, the man was sent out to sea."  
  
"What happened then?" Ginny asked. Behind her, Mum placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
The woman held up her hands. "Nobody knows for sure. Some say he died of scurvy. Some say his ship was wrecked and he drowned. But the most common tale is that he met a very pretty French maiden, and that was that. My aunt, of course, was heart broken. When she got the news about her fiance, she got sick."  
  
"Sick? Did she catch a cold?"  
  
"Nope. She got melancholia."  
  
"Melon what?"  
  
"Melancholia; means she got really, really sad. She got so sad; she stopped eating; stopped sleeping, just sat there, and cried."  
  
"Then what happened?"  
  
"Well," the woman put her hands on her hips, looking down at the necklace, "the story gets garbled again after that. Some say she starved to death. Some say she got the influenza, and died of that. Others say she jumped off a cliff."  
  
Ginny gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. The lady nodded.  
  
"Yep, she was that sad. There's another theory bout what happened to her, though, one I'm more inclined to believe."  
  
"What is it?" Ginny asked, lowering her hands, and looking up at the woman eagerly.  
  
The woman glanced around, then leaned forward and said in a hushed voice. "Some say my aunt was a witch. They say she made a magic potion and turned herself into a…."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A marigold flower."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yep. They say she turned herself into a flower. And now the marigold is a symbol of sorrow and hard times."  
  
"Wow," Ginny said, now looking at the necklace with new interest.  
  
"How much is the necklace?" Mum asked.  
  
"Well," the lady crossed her arms, "it depends on whether or not you're willing to take on the curse."  
  
"What curse?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Those who believe my aunt to be a witch think that before she became a flower, she cursed the necklace so that anyone who was unfaithful, but wore it was doomed to an unhappy life alone."  
  
"I'm not unfaithful," Ginny said.  
  
"Well of course you're not," said the lady.  
  
"But how much is it?"  
  
"Oh, twenty quid, if you're willing."  
  
Mum nodded, then started going through her purse.  
  
"Are you going to buy it Mum?" Ginny asked excitedly.  
  
"Do you like it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are you going to wear it?"  
  
"Oh, yes!"  
  
"Right then," Mum pulled out her coin purse, and riffled through it until she had an assortment of Muggle money. Mum fiddled with it, then handed the lady two ten pound notes. Ginny felt glad that Dad had drilled how to use Muggle money into them. "Here you are," Mum said.  
  
"Thank you kindly, ma'am," the lady said, smiling. "You go right ahead and try on that necklace, love," she said to Ginny.  
  
Ginny lifted it up, and undid the clasp.  
  
"Let me, sweetheart," Mum said, taking it from her. Mum put it on her, and Ginny grinned down at it.  
  
"Thank you!" Ginny said. Then, her stomach rumbled. Mum and the lady laughed while Ginny blushed.  
  
"Best get that one fed," the lady chortled.  
  
"I will, come along, Ginny," Mum took her hand, and they turned to go.  
  
"Miss?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Are you closing?"  
  
"Yeah, I am, I've got to go meet my daughter at the train station. Why?"  
  
"Just curious," Ginny shrugged. "Bye!"  
  
"Bye," she said, waving.  
  
Mum led her away, through the many stands, back to Main Street, to find a nice place for brunch.  



	4. Imagination Is Our Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

****

**Four: Imagination Is Our Reality  
  
Harry**

  
  
  
The train was late, of course. Half way between London and Devon, the train had to stop to let a farmer herd his cattle across the tracks. There were a lot of cows.  
  
By the time they got to Ottery St. Catchpole, it was almost twelve o'clock. And since they didn't have time to get breakfast that morning, Dudley had whined to high heaven and back about his hunger. Harry, of course, wasn't particularly hungry. He'd taken out the bag Anna had given him, and munched on pasties filled with sweet pumpkin filling, little cakes that tasted like chocolate and strawberries, sugary things that looked like feathers, and jelly beans. The jelly beans were the most interesting thing there. They had the strangest flavors. There were the normal ones, peppermint, berry, green apple, and others, but there were also one he'd never guessed could be put into beans. Like chocolate. And cinnamon. And a few disgusting ones, like liver, and dirt. He even came across one that reminded him of puke. He spat that one out. (Possibly the bean was the cause of Dudley puking, rather than motion sickness, because Harry could swear Dudley ate the bean.)  
  
Once the train had stopped and Aunt Petunia hurried them off the train, Harry tugging along the majority of their luggage, they made their way through the bustling crowd, albeit a very small crowd to accommodate the tiny train station, and exited into the street beyond. Aunt Petunia kept glancing around nervously, and Harry was pretty sure she was on the guard for Uncle Vernon. How he knew, he wasn't sure. Aunt Petunia stopped by a telephone booth and made a quick call. When she came out, she looked, if it was possible, even more nervous.  
  
"Our ride will be here soon," she said, guiding them to a nearby bench.  
  
Harry was unsure of this fact, but stayed quiet. They sat on the bench for near to an hour before a rusty pickup truck chugged to a stop in front of them. An elderly woman climbed out, and advanced on them. Aunt Petunia jumped up and hugged the woman, who held her tightly in her arms, stroking Aunt Petunia's hair.  
  
"Boys," Aunt Petunia said once she had let go of the woman, "come and say hello."  
  
Dudley stood up shakily and waddled over to the woman, who hugged him too. Harry stayed where he sat. The woman patted Dudley on the head, but her eyes were on Harry. She gave Dudley a quick kiss and walked over to him. She knelt down in front of him, and reached out with a trembling hand to touch him. Her hand landed on his cheek, and Harry, who was looking at her in wonder and confusion, saw a tear slip down her face. He noticed that her eyes looked just like his.  
  
"You look so much like him," she whispered. That's when Harry noticed that her eyes were a bright green, exactly the same shape and shade his were.  
  
"I look like who?"  
  
"Your father," she said, "but you've got Lily's eyes." Then her eyes traveled to his forehead, and she reached up, and gently touched the scar.  
  
Harry blinked, even more confused at her actions. He did not have the slightest idea who this woman was.  
  
"Harry, do you remember me at all?"  
  
"No, ma'am."  
  
"I'll have to have a little talk with your aunt then," the woman said, glancing over at Aunt Petunia.  
  
"Uh, pardon me, but who are you?" Harry asked.  
  
"I'm Thea Evans, Harry. I'm your grandmother."  
  
Harry blinked at her. "You are?"  
  
"Yes," Thea Evans gave him a teary smile. "Last time I saw you, you were just a babe, not even one year old. But even then, you had your daddy’s hair and your mum’s eyes. My eyes.”  
  
Harry blinked at her. He had assumed that all of his blood family but Aunt Petunia had long since died. Now, standing before him, was his grandmother. He looked over at Aunt Petunia, the only family he had ever known. Her hands were gripping Dudley’s shoulders, who looked upset that he was not the center of attention. Aunt Petunia nodded, almost imperceptibly. Thea Evans stood up, pulling Harry with her. She hugged him tightly, and then led him over to her truck.  
  
“Come on, I’ll take you to lunch.”  
  
She lifted Harry with only a little grunt, which surprised him- he may have been skinny, but he wasn’t that small!-, into the bed of her truck. Then she helped Dudley up. Aunt Petunia climbed into the passenger seat, and Thea took her place in the driver’s seat. She turned the key in the ignition, the engine groaned, and it backfired suddenly. Dudley grabbed a hold of the side of the truck bed, and Harry laughed at him.  
  
“Hold tight, boys!” Thea called as the truck rumbled to life. They drove down a couple blocks before Thea parallel parked the truck in front of a corner dinner. Harry hopped down from the truck bed, feeling very happy, knowing that his hair was in a right state. Thea helped Dudley down, and then, ruffling Harry’s hair, messing it up even more, she led them into the dinner. The hostess, a young Spanish girl, was talking with a red haired woman. By her side was a little girl, nine or ten, with the same red hair, looking up expectantly at the woman, who Harry guessed to be her mother. Thea and Aunt Petunia started talking to each other, while Dudley sulked by his mother. Harry watched the little girl. Then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned. And Harry felt a sensation akin to being punched in the gut, something he knew quite well, unfortunately. The little girl’s mouth opened to form a perfect ‘o’, and, Harry let his jaw drop.  
  
_You?_ His friend said in his mind. His imaginary friend, the one that only existed in his brain and his dreams.  
  
_But- but you’re my imagination!_ Harry thought stupidly.  
  
_You’re my imagination!_  
  
“Can it be?” he whispered.  
  
“Are you real?” she whispered back. Without knowing it, Harry had moved forward. So had she.  
  
“Of course I’m real; it’s you that’s supposed to be a figment of my imagination!” Harry said.  
  
The girl’s mother had stopped her conversation with the hostess.  
  
“Ginny, come over here, dear,” she said. The little girl- his not-so-imaginary friend- didn’t move.  
  
“Harry?” Aunt Petunia called. “Come here, now.”  
  
Harry glanced back, but his eyes wandered back to her again just as quickly. She cocked her head, and slowly stretched out a hand to touch his face. She laid her palm on his cheek, and gasped, jerking it back.  
  
“I must be dreaming!” she insisted.  
  
“You’re not,” Harry said, touching the spot her hand had touched. “I am.”  
  
“Harry, what are you doing?” Aunt Petunia said, stepping forward. She grabbed his arm and tried to tug him away from the girl. There was a short blast of light, his aunt gasped, and backed up quickly. She cradled her arm close to her, staring at him in confusion. Harry looked back to his friend, and shrugged. She frowned too, and poked him hard in the shoulder.  
  
“Ow!” he said, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”  
  
“Do people normally do that when they try to touch you?” she asked, pointing to Aunt Petunia.  
  
“No,” Harry glanced back at his aunt.  
  
“Who is she, anyway?”  
  
“My aunt Petunia,” he said. “I’ve told you about her.”  
  
“OH!” the girl said, now beginning to smile. “The Queen of Cleaning.”  
  
“Ginny, come over here,” the girl’s mother called. She stepped forward and tried to pull her away from Harry, but another blast of light and the girl's mother let go with a gasp of pain.  
  
“Is that something that happens a lot around you?” Harry asked. She shook her head.  
  
“Mum, what’s going on?” Dudley said in a loud, whiny voice. She glanced at him, and then her eyes found Thea.  
  
“Mum, that’s the lady who sold us my new necklace!” she said happily. Harry turned to look over at his newfound grandmother, and then turned his eyes back to his friend. “This necklace, see?” She said, touching the necklace around her neck. Harry reached out to touch it, and his fingers slid over the largest blue stone, which rested at her clavicle. She smiled, looking down at it.  
  
“It’s pretty,” he said. “I thought you didn’t mess around with things like jewelry, and skirts!” he let out a laugh, reaching down and fingering the blue fabric of her skirt. She shrugged.  
  
“I am allowed to be a girl at times,” she sniffed.  
  
He laughed. “Of course you are.”  
  
“Ginny, who is this?” her mother asked. She turned.  
  
“Oh, Mum, this is my imaginary friend, the one I told you about, his name’s…” she trailed off, and then turned back to him. “Who are you?”  
  
“Sorry?”  
  
“What’s your name?” she corrected herself.  
  
“Oh,” Harry said, feeling warmth spread to his cheeks. He stuck out his hand, and she took it. She had a firm grip.  
  
“I’m Harry,” he said. “Harry Potter.”  
  
She let go of his hand so quickly you would have thought it had turned to a live snake. She stared at him, mouth open in a silent question, eyes wide and cheeks growing to a light shade of rosy pink.  
  
“What?” he asked, glancing between her and her mother, who looked just as stunned as she did.  
  
“Imaginary friend?” he heard Aunt Petunia ask.  
  
His friend’s mother brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Ginny, I want to know exactly what is happening.”  
  
“So do I,” Harry said. “What’s so special about my last name? Half the people I meet nearly jump a foot in the air when I say my name’s Potter, and complete strangers walk up to me on the street wanting to shake my hand. So what’s so special about me?”  
  
His friend shut her mouth and swallowed. “You- you’re famous.”  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’re taking the mickey,” he said.  
  
“But you are!” she said, taking a step back. “Your story is my favorite bedtime story, and I have friends who have Harry Potter dolls, and Luna Lovegood’s father does a piece on you every Halloween in the _Quibbler_. You- you’re the Boy Who Lived.”  
  
Harry blinked. “The people at the B and B said the same thing. But what’s it mean?”  
  
“You lived when you should have died,” she whispered. “You should have been killed ten years ago, on Halloween, but you lived.”  
  
“I still don’t understand,” Harry said.  
  
“Perhaps we should explain over lunch,” Thea Evans interrupted, and Harry turned. She nodded in the direction of the hostess, who was looking just as confused as Harry felt. Thea knew as well?  
  
“Quick question,” Harry turned back to his friend while Thea went to his friend’s mother and persuaded her to join them for lunch. “What’s your name?”  
  
She shook her head slowly. “You really are stupid at times.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Mum’s said it over and over,” she sighed. “It’s Ginny.”  
  
Harry nodded, feeling his already warm cheeks grow warmer. Thea and Aunt Petunia and Ginny’s mother had spoken with the hostess by then, and she was counting out menus.  
  
“What should I call your mother?” he asked as the hostess led them to a booth in the back.  
  
“Mrs. Weasley,” she said. “What do I call your aunt? And the other lady?”  
  
“Oh, my aunt is Mrs. Dursley, and that’s Mrs. Evans. She’s my grandmother. You were right, by the way,” he added as they slipped into the booth. “She’s Aunt Petunia’s mother.”  
  
Dudley, who had been looking very surly ever since the conversation had started, chose that moment to stick out his fat hand to Ginny.  
  
“I’m Dudley,” he said. “And if you’ve got any brains, you’ll drop him. He’s a freak.”  
  
Ginny, who had reached out to grasp his hand, pulled back. “I think I’ll stick with him, thanks.”  
  
Dudley scowled, but sat beside his mother. Mrs. Weasley took the seat beside Ginny, and Thea sat next to Dudley.  
  
“So, Harry,” she said, “you want to know why you are the Boy Who Lived. I would have thought that my daughter would have been kind enough to tell you. But I guess I was wrong. It all starts years and years ago…”  
  
**

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGH GHG

**  
  
_“Mum!” Lily Evans called. She ran into the dining room, holding a letter in her hand. Mrs. Thea Evans, who was sorting through that day’s mail, looked up and smiled at her youngest daughter. She was a delight, already beautiful at eleven years old. She had her father's red hair, but her mother’s bright green eyes. Thea set aside the bill in her hands and pulled out a chair for Lily. She sat down beside her, her face flushed with excitement.  
  
“What is it, my flower?” Thea asked.  
  
“You know that letter I got?” Lily said. “Well, it said that I’ve been accepted at this school”  
  
“How lovely darling,” Thea said, feeling a little confused. She had signed Lily up for any schools, just the local primary school. “What school?”  
  
“A magic school!” Lily said.  
  
Thea raised her eyebrows. “Now, now, dear, I’ve told you, magic isn’t real. You must stop all this nonsense. You’re a big girl now, Lily.”  
  
“But Mum! I’m telling the truth!”  
  
“Lily, stop it,” Thea insisted. “There is no such thing as magic.”  
  
Just then, the doorbell rang. Petunia, Lily’s older sister, called from the foyer, “I’ll get it.”  
  
Thea stood, shaking her head at Petunia’s blunder. She always volunteered to get the door, no matter how many times Thea told her to let her get the door. Lily followed her mother into the foyer, where Petunia had already opened the door.  
  
“May I help you?” Thea asked, putting a hand on Petunia’s shoulder. The woman at the door smiled. She was rather short, and quite plump. She had curly black hair, and gray eyes.  
  
“My name is Augusta Longbottom, and I’m here to see Lily Evans.”  
  
Thea crossed her arms. “I’m Lily’s mother. How can I help you?”  
  
“Oh, well then, I am sure that Lily has received her letter already,” Augusta Longbottom said. “From Hogwarts?”  
  
“Oh, yes, I got it this morning!” Lily piped up behind her mother. Thea turned and pressed a finger to her lips. Then she addressed Longbottom.  
  
“What’s it to you?”  
  
“I am sure then, that you are rather confused,” she said. “My job is to explain to you the nature of Lily’s abilities.”  
  
“What abilities?”  
  
“Her magic, of course.”  
  
Thea raised her eyebrows, then, she gently pulled Petunia aside and gestured for Longbottom to enter. She did so, smiling genially.  
  
“Through here,” Thea said, leading the group into the adjoining sitting room. Longbottom took a seat on the couch, still smiling. Thea sat in an armchair, and Lily climbed into her mother’s lap. Petunia took a seat on the floor.  
  
“Now what is this about?” Thea asked.  
  
“I have never had the patience for subtlety, so I will be blunt. Your daughter is a witch.”  
  
Thea raised her eyebrows for a third time that day. “A what?”  
  
“A witch. An honest to goodness witch,” Longbottom said. “Hogwarts is a school for children like her, who have magical abilities, to learn how to control their magic, and how to use it.”  
  
“You’re joking,” Thea laughed. “There’s no such thing as magic!”  
  
“Oh, is there?” Longbottom said. She smiled, and then pulled from the pocket of her jacket a long thin wooden stick. “I am a witch as well, Mrs. Evans, and I will prove to you that magic is very real.” She pointed her stick at the coffee table, and said “Evanesco.” The coffee table vanished. Petunia gasped, and Lily clapped her hands in enjoyment. Thea stared in shocked silence at the place where her coffee table had been. Mrs. Evans waved her stick once more and the table reappeared. “And so, magic is real.”  
  
“Do more, do more!” Lily said, grinning rather broadly. Longbottom smiled, and pointed her stick at the grate. “Incendio!” Fire erupted from the end of her stick, and lit the grate. Lily squealed with joy. “Orchidus,” Longbottom said, and a bunch of flowers spouted from her stick. She handed the bouquet to Lily, who looked overjoyed.  
  
“You’re saying that Lily can do that?” Thea said, staring at the flowers in Lily’s hands.  
  
“Not right away, but once she has completed her training at Hogwarts, she will.”  
  
Thea took the flowers from Lily, and laid them on the newly returned coffee table.  
  
“So there are witches still in England?”  
  
“All over the world!” Longbottom said. “In America, in Asia, in Africa. Everywhere. In fact, there is a witch and her son living not far from here, in Spinner’s End.”  
  
“Snape!” Petunia said. “That greasy old git who’s always spying on us?”  
  
“Severus doesn’t spy, Tuny,” Lily said. “He’s lonely. He wants to be friends.”  
  
“Yes, Severus Snape is a wizard,” Longbottom said. “I went to school with his mother.”  
  
“Oh, wonderful!” Lily said. “I’m really a witch, just like Sev said!”  
  
“You knew?” Thea said, turning to her daughter.  
  
“Sev told me,” Lily said, looking at her feet. “But he made me swear to not tell anyone else.”  
  
“Why?” Thea asked, looking at her daughter in confusion, though a little worried.  
  
“He said it was our secret,” she said, her smile fading.  
  
“Uh, Mrs. Evans,” Longbottom interrupted. “As you and your husband are Muggles, or non-magical, I must ask you to not divulge what I have revealed to you to anyone outside your family. Grandparents, close family members, you may tell them about Lily’s abilities but make sure they do not tell anyone else. We, that is to say, the magical community find it easier to maintain a healthy lifestyle outside of the Muggle community in secrecy.”  
  
“So we can’t tell our friends?” Thea asked. “I mean, this is extraordinary; Lily has had these abilities for forever, and some of our friends know about them, but they, like us, have never understood it. Now we understand, and you are saying they are not allowed to?”  
  
“If you can trust them to never reveal her abilities, then yes, you may tell them. But if they have a tendency to be a little loose lipped, then no, do not. I am telling you this not to restrict you, but to protect Lily. There are still some people out there that will look down on her because of what she can do, even detest her. You have heard of Lenard Lament?”  
  
“The serial killer?” Thea said. “He caused quite a panic. But they caught him, didn’t they? Three years ago; he’s in prison.”  
  
“Lament is in prison, and he will never escape I assure you. He was caught purely because the Ministry of Magic, our government, found the connection between his victims: they were all wizards and witches. We tracked Lament down and he confessed, under the influence of a truth potion, to having killed more than thirty witches and wizards. Why? Because of their abilities. I’m not saying this to scare you, but to warn you. Lament wasn’t the only Muggle to hate wizards: the many witch burnings during the seventeenth century are proof of that. I ask you to be cautious of whom you tell about Lily’s abilities to keep her and your family safe.”  
  
Thea hugged Lily to her tightly, gesturing for Petunia to come over to her. When Lament had still been at large, a young girl down their street had disappeared. The police were sure that she had been one of his victims. It had terrified everyone on the street. It was then that Thea quit her job and stayed at home with her children twenty-four-seven. In particular, she had ordered Lily to stay indoors, and never go outside, because Lily and the girl down the street had been very similar, and she had some of the same powers that Lily had. Petunia wasn’t allowed outside either. The thought that Lily could have been killed because of her abilities struck too close to home.  
  
“With that said,” Longbottom said, “I have one last thing to say. Lily will need school supplies and I will be the one to escort you and Lily to Diagon Alley. Since you are not a witch, and Lily isn’t a proper witch yet, you will need my help.”  
  
“What is Diagon Alley?” Thea asked.  
  
“It is a Wizarding shopping mall, basically. There are more across the world, but Diagon Alley is closest, and it is the home to the England branch of Gringotts, our bank. There you can have your Muggle money converted to Wizarding money.”  
  
Thea nodded, trying to take it all in. “When do we go?”  
  
“Whenever it is possible for you,” Longbottom replied. “But soon, she will need her supplies by August 31st at the latest. The sooner, the better.”  
  
Thea smiled. “Well, we have this Saturday free. How about you swing by Saturday morning about nine, and we go then? And Petunia can come with us if she wants, right?”  
  
“Of course, of course!” Longbottom said, smiling. “Well, I must be going. Did you send your reply to your letter before I arrived, Lily?”  
  
“No, ma’am.”  
  
“Well, how about you go write your reply, and I will take it to the post office for you.”  
  
Lily smiled, jumped up, and ran from the room. About five minutes later, she returned with a sealed envelope. She handed it to Longbottom, who took it with a smile.  
  
“Thank you, Lily,” Longbottom said. She stood. “I must take my leave. Thank you, Mrs. Evans, for being so understanding.”  
  
Thea nodded once more, and showed Longbottom out._  
  
**

HGHGHGHGHGHG HGHGHG

**  
  
  
“After that, things were never the same,” Thea added to the conclusion to her story. “Lily’s father wasn’t exactly happy with her being a witch. He was a religious man, and he believed witchcraft to be a terrible sin. He kept quiet about it, fortunately, but he never delighted in the feats of magic she showed over the years, and he did not approve of James. Still, Lily was excellent at magic, and she never let it go to her head. She didn’t brag about it to Petunia, but she wasn’t tight lipped about either. She told us all about Hogwarts in her letters, about her friends; and as she matured, I never had to worry about boys because Lily just wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.  
  
“Then, in her very last year at Hogwarts, she started dating James Potter. He was such a nice boy, so polite and very handsome. Lily was enamored with him. They got married about two years after finishing at Hogwarts, and they had you almost immediately. Lily and Petunia hadn’t been as close as they once were during that time, but Lily wanted to change that, I think, because she made Petunia your godmother. And then, Lily stopped sending us letters as often. The last one I got was just a few weeks before she died. She told me that she had to go into hiding with James and you, because her world was at war. There was a man named Lord Voldemort who wanted power, and he wanted to kill people like Lily, people who had Muggle parents. I still don’t understand completely, but Lord Voldemort had made personal threats to Lily and James, and so they went underground. But it didn’t help. I was visited on November first, ten years ago, by the Minister of Magic himself- the wizards have their own government you know- and he told me what had happened. Lily and James had used some sort of magic to hide them, and the only person who knew where they were was a close friend of James’s, but that close friend betrayed them, and told Voldemort where they were. He went to the place where they were hiding, in a small village called Godric’s Hollow, and killed them.  
  
“But for some reason, he couldn’t kill you. He tried to, but he could not. That’s why you’re famous Harry. When Lord Voldemort tried to kill you, the spell he used rebounded, and he was killed, but you lived! I would have taken you myself, but Petunia was your godmother, and she insisted to have you,” Thea said. “I would have visited, but that dreadful husband of hers never let me. And I told you,” she said, turning to Petunia, “I told you he was no good. And now look what’s happened!”  
  
“Mum, can we please discuss this sometime else?” Aunt Petunia said.  
  
“Yes, all right,” Thea sighed.  
  
“But what about Ginny?” Harry asked. “Why can we read each other’s minds?”  
  
Thea frowned. “I don’t rightly know.”  
  
“Neither do I,” said Ginny’s mother. “We should ask Dumbledore.”  
  
“Dumbledore?” Thea said. “The Headmaster of Hogwarts?”  
  
“Yes, he ought to know,” Mrs. Weasley said.  
  
“In the meantime,” Aunt Petunia said, “let’s order lunch.”  
  
Lunch was low-key. Harry tried to order water, but Thea told him to get whatever he wanted so he ordered a root beer. He'd never had one before, but Dudley got it a lot, so it seemed like something that would be good.  
  
After lunch was when it happened.  
  
They had left the restaurant and stood by Thea's truck. Harry glanced between the beat up old car Mrs. Weasley was standing by and the truck.  
  
“Harry, we have to go,” Aunt Petunia said. “We'll stay with your grandmother for a while, all right?”  
  
Harry frowned. “But what about Ginny?”  
  
Aunt Petunia smiled tightly. Harry knew she was faking it.  
  
“Your friend will have to wait. It's been a long day. Dudley needs to rest.”  
  
Thea turned on her daughter with a steely look in her eyes. “Now, Tuny, we ought to think this through. These two are connected, they should be together. We don't want to stretch the connection.”  
  
“They've been apart for their entire lives, they'll be fine,” Aunt Petunia sighed.  
  
Ginny gripped his hand. He felt warmth spread up his arms, starting from his fingers.  
  
_I don't want to leave you,_ he thought.  
  
_I don't want you to leave either,_ she thought.  
  
“Can't I stay with her?” Harry asked.  
  
Mrs. Weasley stepped towards them. “Harry, I'm afraid Ginny and I have to go home.”  
  
“Mummy, can't he come with us?” Ginny asked.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked hesitant. She glanced at Thea and Aunt Petunia. Thea shrugged and Aunt Petunia frowned.  
  
“Well, it would seem better to keep you two together,” Mrs. Weasley mused.  
  
Ginny stuck out her bottom lip. Harry fought the urge to laugh.  
  
_Shut up,_ she thought.  
  
_You're funny!_ Harry thought back. _It's cute._  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed. “If his aunt says he can, then yes.”  
  
“Well, I don't.” Aunt Petunia grabbed his arm. “Harry, come on.”  
  
A flash of light erupted between them, throwing Aunt Petunia backwards. She hit the ground, and stared up at him in shock.  
  
“I didn't do that!” Harry said quickly.  
  
Aunt Petunia pushed herself up, brushing off her slacks. She glanced around, but no one was watching.  
  
“Harry, come here,” she ordered.  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny. She was looking at the ground, down at her sandals.  
  
_What should I do?_  
  
Ginny looked up at him. Her face seemed sad. _I don't want you to go, but your aunt told you to go._  
  
Harry furrowed his brow. All his life, he'd done what he'd been told. Harry, do this. Harry, do that. He'd obeyed every command he'd been given.  
  
Could he obey this one?  



	5. Meeting Albus Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

****

**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG  
  
Five: Meeting Albus Dumbledore  
  
Ginny**

  
  
  
Harry was biting his lip. He looked deep in concentration. She could hear him thinking it all over.  
  
He looked over at his aunt. “I have to go with them,” he said. “I can't leave Ginny.”  
  
Ginny grinned. She squeezed his hand quickly. He squeezed it back.  
  
Mrs. Dursley looked even more stunned than when he knocked her down. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean I need to be with Ginny,” he said. “I can't leave her.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I don't know exactly why, but something tells me I shouldn't leave her.”  
  
“You only met her today!” Mrs. Dursley said in exasperation.  
  
“Aunt Petunia, I've known her all my life,” Harry said. Ginny's smile changed to a more warm and sweet smile.  
  
Mrs. Dursley looked at Harry as though he had just grown an extra pair of arms. “You have lost your mind,” she said.  
  
Mrs. Evans touched Mrs. Dursley's shoulder. “You should let him go,” she said.  
  
Mrs. Dursley turned to Mrs. Evans with the same expression. “You've all gone mad,” she breathed. “He is a ten year old boy. He does not know better than me. And I know it would be madness to let my charge go frolicking off with a stranger.”  
  
“Ginny's not a stranger!” Harry said.  
  
“Well, excuse me for thinking that her mother and her family are,” Mrs. Dursley said. “Harry, come to me. Now.”  
  
Harry's grip on her hand tightened. “No. I need to stay with Ginny.”  
  
Mrs. Dursley glanced around, her expression both frustrated and flustered. She set her eyes on Ginny. “You, girl, tell him that he's being stupid.”  
  
Mrs. Evans grabbed Mrs. Dursley's arm. “Petunia, watch your attitude.”  
  
Mrs. Dursley jerked her arm away from Mrs. Evans. “Mother, my godson is being the disobedient little brat that he is, and I will not sugar coat my words to make him feel better. He needs to know that he is acting ridiculous.”  
  
Mrs. Evans scowled. “What happened to you, Petunia? You used to be so sweet.” She sighed. “Never mind. We'll sort that out later. Sweetheart, Harry isn't being ridiculous. He's being sensible. It is his connection to Ginny, his instincts. I think it would be wise to allow him to stay with Ginny, until we figure out what's happening.”  
  
Mrs. Dursley scowled even deeper than Mrs. Evans. “He has an overactive imagination.”  
  
“Mrs. Dursley,” Ginny said, catching the attention of the older, sterner woman. “Harry thought _I_ was his imagination until today. And I can feel it too, Harry should stay with me.”  
  
Mrs. Dursley narrowed her eyes at Ginny. Ginny swallowed nervously.  
  
Then, she threw her hands in the air. “Fine. I don't care. Take him away, do whatever.” She opened the truck door and pulled a rucksack from it. She tossed it at Harry, who caught it with a grunt. Ginny decided the Queen of Cleaning was more evil than she'd originally thought.  
  
Mrs. Evans gave Mrs. Dursley a strange look, and approached them. She smiled warmly, and knelt down before them. She touched Harry's shoulder. Ginny half expected a flash of light to push her away, but no light came up. Maybe it only came when someone tried to separate them.  
  
“Harry, darling,” Mrs. Evans said, “you be on your best behavior for Mrs. Weasley, okay? I'll come see you as soon as that Dumbledore can come and try to muddle out what's happening, or, if you need me.” She pulled something from her pocket, a little card, and handed it to him.  
  
“My telephone number and my home address in on that,” she said. “You come and see me, call me, anything, if you need me, all right?”  
  
Harry tucked the card into his pocket. Then he frowned.  
  
_You don't have a telephone, do you?_ He thought to her.  
  
_A what?  
  
I thought so._  
  
“They don't have telephones,” Harry said. Mrs. Evans glanced at her; she nodded. Mrs. Evans smiled again.  
  
“Well, then come see me,” she said. “Now, you be good.”  
  
Mrs. Evans gently kissed his forehead. Harry looked startled as she stood up, and walked back to her truck.  
  
_Never been kissed before, then?_ She thought.  
  
_No, but I've seen it happen. It's not as wet as I expected._  
  
Ginny laughed. “Come on, Mum's waiting.”  
  
She pulled him to the car. Mum looked like she had no idea where the afternoon had gone as she opened the door for Harry and her.  
  
Ginny climbed into the backseat, Harry followed her.  
  
“Buckle up,” Mum said and closed the doors. Ginny watched her suck her breath in and let it out slowly. Then she climbed into the car too.  
  
“How am I going to explain this to Arthur?” Mum mumbled in the driver's seat. She started the car, and pulled out into the street.  
  
Harry watched out the window as they passed Mrs. Evan's truck. Dudley was watching them drive away.  
  
Ginny gripped Harry's hand again.  
  
_You okay?_ She reached out.  
  
_Yeah, I'm fine.  
  
You're lying. Honestly, I can read your mind, silly! You'd think you would have learned by now not to lie to me.  
  
Yeah, I know.  
  
What's up?  
  
It's just, Aunt Petunia, I almost thought for a minute that maybe she did really care about me. Because she was refusing to let me go. But, I guess not. _  
  
Ginny's heart broke, watching him. He'd been hurt so much, too much. Ginny didn't really know how to respond to his quiet disappointment, so she unclipped her seat belt and slid across the bench to sit right beside him. She curled her arm through his, and rested her head on his shoulder. He glanced at her, surprised, but then he smiled.  
  
_I'm glad I have you,_ he thought.  
  
_I'm glad you have me too,_ she thought back. _So, Harry Potter.  
  
I'm famous, _ he thought, his mental voice was full of awe and confusion.  
  
_Very famous,_ she replied. _You have dolls and picture books and everything.  
  
I don't suppose you have any of those, then? _  
  
Ginny blushed, and Harry smirked. Her fascination with the story of the Boy Who Lived was always something she kept under lock and key in her mind. It was just something she thought her imaginary male friend wouldn't understand and therefore didn't need to know about it.  
  
_All right, I have picture books, and one doll. Just one!  
  
Wow, I never knew being famous could have so many perks. Dolls, picture books, I must be rich from that stuff! _  
  
Ginny laughed. Mum glanced at them in the mirror, but sighed and looked away.  
  
_I think we're confusing Mum,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_Of course we are,_ Harry thought, smirking. _We're talking to each other in our minds, Ginny, she's probably confused to America and back._  
  
Ginny laughed again. Mum glanced back at them, one eyebrow raised.  
  
“It's nothing,” Ginny said.  
  
“If you say so,” Mum sighed.  
  
Harry and Ginny did not speak again the rest of the trip. Harry commented this and that, the countryside, the strangeness of the car and the afternoon, but he never spoke a word. Ginny couldn't help but grin; she was going to have a lot of fun with her not so imaginary friend.  
  
**

HGHGHGHGHGHGH GHGHG  
  
Harry

**  
  
Ginny's house was as different from Aunt Petunia's as night is from day. As they approached, they passed a wooden sign stuck in the earth reading 'The Burrow.' The house itself looked as though the bottom floors had been built several decades ago, but had been added onto over the years. It was leaning over to the left, and Harry was surprised it had not fallen over years ago. The steps to the kitchen door were littered with rusty caldrons, old rubber boots, and dirt. The kitchen itself was wide and open and merrily preparing dinner, with no one around. Ginny's mother dropped her hand bag onto the counter and sighed. She withdrew a long wood stick, a wand, Ginny said in his thoughts, and waved it in the air. The fire in the old fashioned wood stove fizzled out. The pots and pans washing themselves in the sink ceased their cleaning. The knife chopping up various vegetables and potatoes dropped to the counter.  
  
“I told Percy to make it himself,” Mrs. Weasley sighed.  
  
“Percy, that's the one with pink hair, right?” Harry asked. Mrs. Weasley looked at him sharply.  
  
“How-”  
  
“I told him, Mum,” Ginny said. “Ages ago.”  
  
“Two days ago,” Harry said. Ginny punched him lightly in the arm. Mrs. Weasley seemed to accept that the situation was not going to be something she would understand, and led them from the kitchen to the room beyond, past a scrubbed wooden table large enough to seat a dozen, to a comfortable looking sitting room. A boy with faded pink hair was sitting in one of the armchairs, turning the pages of his book idly.  
  
He looked up as Mrs. Weasley entered, and quickly stuffed the book behind him as he jumped up.  
  
“Mother,” he said, almost breathlessly, “I- I was just about to... to...” he trailed off, for his eyes had found Harry.  
  
“Who is that?” he asked.  
  
Mrs. Weasley glanced back at Harry. “Well, it is rather a long story, one I don't want to repeat multiple times. This is Harry Potter.”  
  
Percy let out a little gasp. His face colored behind his glasses, as his eyes traveled upward to the strands of faded pink hair falling over his eyebrows.  
  
“Sweet Merlin,” he muttered. “Mr. Potter, please excuse-”  
  
“The pink hair?” Harry said, hiding a smirk. “It's okay. Ginny said Fred and George hexed it.”  
  
Percy nodded. “I- I'm just going to- to m-make dinner,” he stammered, and he darted past them and into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.  
  
“He's always been very formal,” Mrs. Weasley said to Harry. “It must be torture for him right now.”  
  
“I know,” Harry said. Mrs. Weasley nodded, muttering, “Of course you do.”  
  
_Mum isn't used to this sort of thing, Ginny thought.  
  
I can tell,_ Harry thought back, smiling at her. Mrs. Weasley glanced between the two of them, then sighed and turned towards the stairs leading up to the upper floors.  
  
“BOYS!” she hollered. Thundering footsteps sounding, and Harry immediately thought of an army marching into battle. He had a sudden thought of what he knew of Ginny's brothers, and wondered if he should be afraid. He stepped backward, and closer to his friend. Ginny glanced at him and shook her head, but she was smiling.  
  
_Just be yourself,_ she thought. _You'll be all right._  
  
Easy for you to say, Harry thought grumpily. The army of Ginny's other brothers stampeded down the last few steps to line up in front of their mother. He recognized them one by one. The one on the far right was Bill, going by the ponytail and fang earring. Then next was Charlie, short and stocky. Then in the middle were the two identical twins. He couldn't tell which was which. Last was Ginny's twin, Ron. All five of them had caught sight of Harry, and all five were staring curiously.  
  
“Percy, come back in here,” Mrs. Weasley called. Percy came back out of the kitchen, pink haired head hanging, to join his brothers.  
  
Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on Harry's shoulders and steered him out from behind Ginny. “This is Harry Potter.”  
  
A collective intake of breath from the brothers, all but Percy. Harry waved shyly.  
  
“He will be staying with us for a while,” Mrs. Weasley said. “He's- well, I'm not quite sure what to call him.”  
  
Ginny stepped forward. “He's my imaginary friend,” she said.  
  
All six boys looked to her with similar shocked expressions.  
  
“Your what?” Percy said in a stunned voice.  
  
“He's the imaginary friend I've told you about,” she said. “The one I forgot to name.”  
  
Bill and Charlie glanced at each other. Percy seemed disbelieving. Ron, Fred and George looked like they were still trying to process it all.  
  
“We don't quite understand it,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I'm going to call Dumbledore and ask him for help, but in the meantime Harry will be staying with us. Ron, would you mind letting him bunk with you?”  
  
Ron turned as red as his hair. “B-bunk with me?” he stumbled over the words, looking even more shocked.  
  
“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said. “You're the least likely to pester him.”  
  
Harry felt reassured that Mrs. Weasley was on his and Ginny's side.  
  
_Ron will still pester you, but not as much as the others,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_I'll live,_ he thought back.  
  
Ginny flashed him a smile, he smiled back.  
  
The brothers were eyeing him again. Mrs. Weasley glanced at them, and sighed.  
  
“They can read each other's minds,” she said, almost reluctantly. “And no, you may not ask them about it,” she snapped at one of the twins, who had opened his mouth curiously. The twin scowled. “Ron, show Harry your room, please.”  
  
Ron nodded, and waved at Harry to follow him. Ron looked thoroughly confused as he led Harry up the stairs. Ginny waved to him as he mounted the steps. Harry waved back. Today had been crazy, and he was loving every moment of it.  
  
“So,” Ron said as they climbed higher and higher. “How did you become my sister's imaginary friend?”  
  
“I have no idea,” Harry replied. “One day, I just got fed up with being shunted and ignored, so I made up a friend and she was Ginny.”  
  
“Shunted?” Ron repeated, frowning. “What would you be shunted for?”  
  
“I live with my aunt and uncle, or, I used to. They don't particularly like me.”  
  
“Used to?”  
  
“My uncle was a drinker,” Harry admitted. “My aunt got fed up with him, packed up me and my cousin, and brought us out here to stay with my grandmother. At least, that was the plan. Then I met Ginny for real, and my grandmother and your mother decided it would be best to not separate us.”  
  
“And they're Muggles, right?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Ron seemed a little less confused than he did when they started up the stairs. He stopped on a final landing, and turned to Harry.  
  
“If you're Ginny's imaginary friend, then she must have told you everything.”  
  
“She does.”  
  
“What's she say about me?”  
  
Harry thought about it for a moment.  
  
_What?_ Ginny thought.  
  
_He wants to know what you say about him.  
  
Tell him it isn't his business._  
  
“She says it's not your business,” Harry said aloud.  
  
“Says?” Ron frowned. Then he made a look of vague understanding. “Right, the reading each other's minds thing.” Harry nodded.  
  
“Maybe I'm dreaming,” Ron mumbled as he turned to the door. He turned the handle, and the door swung open.  
  
It was like walking into an explosion. Everything was covered in bright orange: The walls, the floor, the ceiling, even the bedspread. Harry already knew Ron was a huge fan of the Chuddly Cannons, but this was just too much orange to live in.  
  
Ron fidgeted with a miniature figurine of a Quidditch player as he waited for Harry's reaction. (Ginny had explained the rules of Quidditch to him AGES ago.)  
  
“It's just like Ginny said it was,” Harry said.  
  
Ron raised one eyebrow and narrowed the other eye. He seemed too confused to do much else.  
  
“Right,” Ron muttered, dropping the figurine. It flew away on its miniature broom. “So, you know everything about us?”  
  
“Only what Ginny's told me,” Harry said quickly.  
  
“And you're the Boy Who Lived.” Ron's eyes drifted away from his, to land on Harry's scar.  
  
“Well, yes,” Harry said. “Um, I don't really know much about being famous, so...” he trailed off awkwardly.  
  
_Just be yourself,_ Ginny thought.  
  
Harry sighed, and glanced around. “Um, where will I sleep?”  
  
“Oh, right,” Ron looked around, and then stepped over an overflowing box and to something that Harry had guessed to be a desk or something similar, but Ron swept his arm over it, sending the junk covering it crashing to the floor, and Harry saw it was another bed. Harry instantly knew whose it had been. The quilt covering it was a creamy white, patterned with different flowers. Ginny's.  
  
“Ginny used to sleep there, but Mum and Dad gave her her own room a few years ago. We never bothered to get rid of the bed,” Ron explained. Harry knew this already, but didn't let on that he knew, seeing as Ron was already befuddled.  
  
“I'll get a different blanket,” Ron said.  
  
“No, that one's fine,” Harry said quickly. Ron raised an eyebrow.  
  
“I'm not fond of orange,” Harry said.  
  
“But it's got flowers and it's all girly,” Ron said.  
  
“I don't mind,” Harry said. “Don't go to any trouble.”  
  
Ron shrugged and navigated over more piles of stuff to the other bed. Harry stepped over the same box filled to the brim with comic books and toys to the bed. He sank onto it, heard the groaning of old bed springs, and set his rucksack on the ground beside it.  
  
“Now what?” Harry asked.  
  
Ron looked over at him, then around the room awkwardly.  
  
“Um...” he said.  
  
“Er...” Harry said.  
  
_Ask him to tell you about the Chuddly Cannons,_ Ginny thought. _That will get him on our side quickly.  
  
What do we need him on our side for?  
  
In case Dad decides I'm too young to have a boy in my head. We'll need backup.  
  
You've had me in your head for ages!  
  
I know that but Dad doesn't!_  
  
Harry let out an aggravated sigh.  
  
“Ginny says I should ask you about the Chuddly Cannons,” Harry said. Somewhere, Ginny smacked herself in the forehead.  
  
_Why didn't you just ask instead of saying I told you to?  
  
Because I have no idea what I'm doing.  
  
Boys._  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow.  
  
“What would she want you to know about my Quidditch team for?”  
  
“She says it will get you on our side.”  
  
“You have a side?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “I guess. She's afraid your dad won't like the fact that I can hear her thoughts.”  
  
“She's confused. All Dad will care about is the fact that you live with Muggles,” Ron said.  
  
Harry frowned. “He will?” Ron nodded.  
  
“Dad LOVES Muggles. He thinks they're fascinating.”  
  
Harry was relieved. Ginny had told him that some wizards thought Muggles were scum and anyone to do with them were scum too.  
  
“So,” Ron said.  
  
“Um...” Harry said.  
  
_If this situation gets any more awkward, I'll eat my hat.  
  
Are you wearing a hat?  
  
No, but I've got hats.  
  
You're silly.  
  
You're thick-headed.  
  
Shut up.  
  
You shut up!  
  
Yes ma'am._  
  
Downstairs, Harry knew Ginny was laughing. Harry smiled.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing,” Harry said. Several seconds of awkward silence ensued. “Um, maybe we should, you know, get to know each other a bit,” he suggested.  
  
Ron nodded slowly. “All right. Er, how?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “I'll say something about me, and then you say something about yourself, and so on.”  
  
“Okay. You first.”  
  
“Right. Um.... I'm turning eleven at the end of July.”  
  
“My birthday's in May.”  
  
“My favorite color is red.”  
  
“Mine's orange.”  
  
Harry laughed. “I figured,” he said, looking around the room. Ron smiled.  
  
“What else?” Ron said.  
  
Harry thought a moment. “Favorite foods?”  
  
“Mine's apple pie.”  
  
“I've never had apple pie,” Harry said.  
  
“You've never had apple pie?” Ron asked in disbelief.  
  
“My aunt and uncle never let me.”  
  
Ron stared at him, mouth agape. “Come on, let's go ask Mum to make some. You've got to try it.” Ron leapt up off the bed, and bounded across the room. Harry followed as quickly as he could in the mess. They ran down the stairs, causing quite a ruckus, to see Mrs. Weasley bent over the fireplace in the living room.  
  
“...it's quite confusing, the whole thing,” Mrs. Weasley was saying. “Albus, tell me you have an explanation.”  
  
“What's she doing?” Harry whispered to Ron.  
  
“Making a Floo call,” Ron hissed back. “Probably to Professor Dumbledore.”  
  
Harry nodded. Vaguely, he remembered Ginny telling him about Floo calling.  
  
“I will look through my books and speak to the previous Headmasters,” said a man's voice, a soft, merry voice. “I will do my best to discover what connects them.”  
  
“Will you want to come speak with them?”  
  
“Yes, but not now. It is a wise idea to keep them together until we know more. You are comfortable with having Harry stay with you for the time being?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Good. I shall Floo you again when I know more.”  
  
“Thank you, Professor.”  
  
There was a slight whoosh and Mrs. Weasley straightened. She turned, and spotted Ron and Harry standing by the stairs.  
  
“What is it, dears?” Mrs Weasley said.  
  
“Harry's never had apple pie,” Ron said. “Could you make some for dessert?”  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Of course, dear. I'll whip up some in a minute. Are you settled in, Harry, dear?”  
  
Harry nodded. “I'm very grateful that you're letting me stay with you,” he said.  
  
“Oh, it's no trouble,” Mrs. Weasley said. “One more child isn't going to upset things around here.”  
  
“Is there anything I could help with?” Harry asked.  
  
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “No, dear. You just relax. Ginny's gone outside, if you'd like to be with her.”  
  
Harry smiled at Mrs. Weasley. “Okay, thanks. Come on, Ron.”  
  
The two boys left the room with thundering feet and smiles. They found Ginny in the garden, which Mrs. Dursley certainly would not have liked. Harry loved it. The plants were overgrown, their perfumes mixing together to entice and delight his senses. Ginny was sitting with her back to a wide but short tree, the branches weighed down with delicious looking peaches.  
  
Harry sat beside her. Ron stood there, looking awkward.  
  
_Hey,_ Harry thought. Ginny smiled at him and laid her head on his shoulder.  
  
_I'm really tired,_ Ginny thought. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze.  
  
_Okay._ Harry glanced at Ron.  
  
“She's tired,” he said.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Ron said, his voice just a little bit annoyed. “She's my sister.”  
  
Harry's cheeks warmed. “Right. Um...”  
  
Ginny poked him in the ribs. “Keep playing that game. I'll just listen.”  
  
Harry nodded. “Okay. Um, what's your best school subject?”  
  
Ron sank onto the ground, sitting Indian style. “Quidditch.”  
  
Harry laughed. “Mine's lunch.”  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
“Does lunch count as school?” Ginny asked.  
  
“When it's at school, it does,” Harry said defensively.  
  
“Fine,” Ginny yawned.  
  
“What's your favorite thing to do?” Ron said. “I like to play Quidditch and chess.”  
  
“I don't get to play much,” Harry said.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“My aunt and uncle-”  
  
“Never let you,” Ron guessed, scowling. Harry nodded. “They sound like evil people.”  
  
Harry shrugged. “They're mean to me, sure, but they're not evil. They just don't like me. I'm abnormal.”  
  
“That doesn't mean they can treat you so horribly,” Ginny said.  
  
“Let's talk about something else,” Harry said, feeling awkward.  
  
“Let's stop talking altogether and let me nap,” Ginny said.  
  
Ron and Harry laughed.  
  
“Ron!” Mrs. Weasley called. “I need you!”  
  
Ron pushed himself off the ground. “Coming, Mum!” he yelled back. “See you later,” he said to Harry and Ginny. He turned, and walked back to the house.  
  
“Harry,” Ginny said suddenly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“What do you suppose this is?”  
  
“What is?”  
  
“This,” she said, “us. Hearing our thoughts.”  
  
Harry thought about it. “I don't know, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny yawned again. Harry looked down at her, resting on his shoulder, and couldn't help but notice that he quite liked having her there.  
  
Where did that come from?  
  
After a while, Ginny fell asleep. In the shade of the peach tree, Harry rested his head against the tree's trunk, and fell asleep too.  
  
A long while later, after quite a few dreams, the sound of voices and footsteps roused Harry. As he blearily looked around, his eyes still gummed with sleep, he saw three adults approaching.  
  
_Ginny,_ he thought. _Wake up._  
  
“Go 'way,” Ginny mumbled.  
  
“Wake up,” he said aloud, shaking her gently. Ginny stirred, waving a hand in the air as though warding off a fly. But she opened her eyes and looked around. Her eyes found his, and her cheeks colored bright red.  
  
“Oh!” she said, sitting up quickly. His arm was still around her. “It wasn't a dream!”  
  
Harry laughed quietly. “Nope. But people are here.”  
  
Ginny looked around, and the three adults came into the garden.  
  
“Ginny? Harry?” Mrs. Weasley's voice. “Where are you?”  
  
“Over here, Mum!” Ginny called back. The three adults worked their way through the bushes and stopped by the tree.  
  
“There you are,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you.”  
  
Harry pulled his arm away from Ginny quickly. He had noticed the third person in the group, a tall man with a receding red hairline. His face burned and he avoided Ginny's father's gaze.  
  
Professor Dumbledore lowered himself onto the ground, sitting with his legs tucked beneath him. Professor Dumbledore was a very old man. He had long silver hair, and an equally long beard. He wore half-moon glasses, perched upon a very crooked nose. His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and he was smiling gently at them.  
  
“Hello, Harry,” Professor Dumbledore said. “Ginny. How are you?”  
  
“All right,” Harry said.  
  
“Sleepy,” Ginny yawned. Professor Dumbledore chuckled softly.  
  
“I would imagine,” Professor Dumbledore said. “It has been a very interesting day, hasn't it?”  
  
Ginny nodded.  
  
“I was wondering if you could tell me about this connection of yours,” Dumbledore said.  
  
“We can hear each other's thoughts,” Ginny said.  
  
“No matter where you are?”  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
“Before you met, did you know that your imaginary friend was Harry Potter, Miss Weasley?”  
  
Ginny shook her head. “I kept forgetting to name him,” she said.  
  
“Same here,” Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I see. And, tell me, do you know what the other is doing even when you can't see each other?”  
  
They nodded.  
  
“When did you first hear each other?”  
  
Harry frowned, trying to remember. “I- I can't remember. It was a long time ago.”  
  
Ginny nodded her head in agreement. “I've always been able to hear him.”  
  
“I see,” Dumbledore mused. “You were asleep when we walked up, correct?”  
  
Ginny nodded. Harry's face burned redder as he nodded as well. Dumbledore glanced at Ginny's father and smiled.  
  
“He doesn't bite, Harry,” Dumbledore said, smiling gently. Harry prayed it was true.  
  
“Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”  
  
Harry frowned. “Not exactly.”  
  
Ginny shook her head. “All I remember is seeing Harry.”  
  
“And did you see Ginny in your dream, Harry?”  
  
Harry nodded. Professor Dumbledore nodded again, and stood. “I have no further questions. I will Floo call you when I know more. Molly, Arthur.” Dumbledore bowed to Harry and Ginny, then to Ginny's parents, and left the garden.  
  
Mrs. Weasley offered a hand to Ginny. “Supper's ready, dears,” she said, helping Ginny up. Harry stood, and moved to follow the, but Mr. Weasley lay a hand on Harry's shoulder.  
  
“So, Harry Potter,” Mr. Weasley said. “My daughter’s imaginary friend.”  
  
Harry gulped. “Yes, sir,” he said.  
  
Mr. Weasley smiled at him. “Dumbledore was right, you know. I don't bite.”  
  
“I realize that, sir,” Harry said. “I just thought it would be a good idea to watch my step.”  
  
Mr. Weasley's eyes twinkled with amusement. “And a good idea that is. And I realize that you are not yet eleven, so I will leave you be for now. Just be good to Ginny, all right?”  
  
Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. I will.”  
  
Mr. Weasley patted Harry's shoulder. “Come along, Molly's made pot pies, and apple pie too.”  
  
Mr. Weasley steered him out of the garden, and into the brightly lit kitchen.  



	6. A Revalation (Of Sorts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

****

**Six: A Revelation (Of Sorts)  
  
Ginny**

  
  
Dinner was delicious, as usual. Harry was startled when Mum offered him as large a portion of the pot pie as she did to the rest of us, maybe even a bit larger. Ginny remembered how his aunt and uncle tended to give him the smallest portions possible. Harry took it gratefully, giving her a wide-eyed stare of amazement, which then turned into a wide grin after his first bite.  
  
The conversation was only a little bit awkward. Percy was overly formal, almost to the point of hilarity. Fred and George had seemed to accept Harry's sudden insertion into the family, and were treating him like they had known him for years. Ginny knew Harry was glad they were treating him so nicely, and she herself was glad they weren't interrogating him about their connection. Ron and Harry had become fast friends; Bill was polite and his normal cheerful self, and Charlie was quiet, listening to Mum and Dad and to the rest of the conversations. Ginny knew was waiting for the right opportunity to say something about his dragon reserve job. Mum had quickly taken Harry under her wing, and Dad was only a little bit confused by Harry's presence.  
  
After dinner, Mum sent Ginny, Harry, and Ron straight to bed. It was late, Mum said, and they had to be up early for their trip to Diagon Alley the next day.  
  
_Diagon what?_ Harry thought.  
  
_Diagon Alley,_ Ginny thought back. _It's were we go to get our school supplies and other stuff we can't get in Muggle stores. It's in London.  
  
Do I get to come?  
  
Of course!  
  
Would it be all right for me to ask your mum if we stop by my grandmother's house first, just so we know she and my aunt are okay with me going to London?_  
  
“Mum!” Ginny called.  
  
“Yes, dear?”  
  
“Harry wants to make sure his grandmother and his aunt are okay with him going to Diagon Alley with us tomorrow, is that all right?”  
  
“Of course, I was planning on asking them anyway.”  
  
Ginny smiled at Harry. Harry smiled back.  
  
“This is weird,” Ron said quietly.  
  
“What is?”  
  
“You two,” he said. “Telepathy, and all that.”  
  
Ginny smirked at him. “You're jealous.”  
  
“Am not!”  
  
“Are too!”  
  
“Am not!”  
  
“Ron, Ginny, stop that,” Mum said absently. Ron crossed his arms over his chest. Ginny shrugged at Harry.  
  
_Are you two always like that?_ Harry thought in her head.  
  
_Mostly. It's because we're always around each other. Things will be different when we get to Hogwarts, and he gets more friends.  
  
All right. Do I count?  
  
As what?  
  
As... as his friend?  
  
Course you do! Don't worry._  
  
Harry smiled, but Ginny knew he was still worried. He couldn't help it. He was a worry wart.  
  
_Am not!_  
  
Ginny laughed. Harry smiled for real. Ron gave them a confused look.  
  
“Go on up to bed, you three,” Mum said.  
  
Ginny pushed back her chair. She picked up her dishes, as Harry picked up his, and followed her into the kitchen. She set her dishes in the sink, took Harry's, and set them down as well. They passed Ron on their way out, but Ron caught back up with them on the stairs.  
  
“See you tomorrow?” Ginny said, standing outside her door. Harry nodded. Ginny smiled, and gave him a quick hug. She waved to Ron, and stepped inside her room.  
  
_Haven't you ever been hugged before?_ Ginny thought.  
  
_No. It feels weird._  
  
Ginny sighed. _Mum will hug you nonstop.  
  
Go to sleep._  
  
Ginny giggled, as she heard on his side of her mind, Ron shutting the door to his room.  
  
I'll talk to you later, all right? Harry said in her mind.  
  
_Okay._  
  
Ginny changed into her pajamas quickly, combed her fingers through her long hair quickly, and braided it. She climbed into bed, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
Today had been very, very interesting.  
  
**

HGHGHGHG HGHGHGHGHG

**  
  
That night, as the sliver of moon rose over the crooked house, a specter that had not been seen for ten years appeared in the fields behind the Weasley home. A woman, her skin the color of wood and hanging in wrinkles, pure white hair and yellow eyes like that of a hawk's. In one hand, she held the same carved staff, and the other hand rested on the head of a lean, black wolf. A crow rested on the staff, its beady eyes fixed on the overbalanced house. If anyone were to look on, they might think that they were on a stage, observing perhaps the Scottish Play or some other representation of hags playing witches.  
  
“So they have met,” said the crow, its voice as only a crow's could be. “I told you, Night; I told you it would happen soon.”  
  
The wolf let out a low bark that sounded almost like a scoff. The old woman stroked his ears in an effort to appease him. The crow turned an eye on the wolf.  
  
“Have you no response, Night?” the crow croaked. It seemed the crow was speaking to the wolf. The wolf, Night, sniffed the air. “You CAN talk now, you know, no one can see.”  
  
Night swished its tail and bared its teeth at the crow. The crow, however, rolled its eyes.  
  
“Hush, Chaos,” said the old woman.  
  
The crow, Chaos, looked down on Night, and then turned its back on it, fluffing its tail feathers. Night seemed startled, and then offended. The old woman sighed.  
  
“We are here with a purpose,” she growled. “I will send you back if you do not behave.”  
  
Chaos fluffed its feathers again. Night growled. The old woman raised her hand, a threatening eye upon both the wolf and the crow.  
  
“Behave,” she repeated.  
  
Night let out a sound that could only be described as a huff, and sat back on its haunches. Chaos ignored Night, and indeed the woman's threat. The woman sighed again, and turned her attention towards the house. Her eyes fixed on a window facing them, to the east. Her eyes narrowed, her vision focused on the window, and suddenly she could see into the room.  
  
A young girl lay sleeping soundly in her bed. She lay facing away from the window, tucked under the blankets. The woman's withered lips turned up in a smile. Then her eyes moved up, to the window above. She saw two beds now, with two boys. One with vibrant red hair, the other with hair as dark as the wolf's pelt.  
  
“And now, we watch,” the old woman said. She conjured a chair with a wave of her hand, and sank into it. Night lay down at her feet, Chaos fluttered onto the chair's high back, and the woman lay her staff down by Night. The woman rested her head against the back of her chair, and closed her eyes. She concentrated, focusing on the two children lying asleep in the house, and with a rush of magic, she saw their dreams, but the two powerful imaginations would not see her, for she was just looking in through a window into the world they had created in their dreams.  
  
Both children sat by a pool, dipping their toes in the water. The old woman saw, amazed, a spectacular landscape, a waterfall pounding the pool into a rage of white water, green trees and bright vegetation gave the air that scent that only plants and fresh water could give. The children were not the only moving things, for the old woman could see, and sense, animals moving through the forest behind her. As she looked over the waterfall, a jet of steam issued from behind it. She could sense a cave, and in the cave, she sensed a dragon. The water vapor fell on her ancient face, cooling her skin and reminding her of days long since passed. The children sat facing her, enjoying the spray of the waterfall, chatting as though they did this every day.  
  
“My lord,” the old woman whispered. Perhaps these two were more powerful than she thought. Certainly, they were more powerful than Night had thought. The dream felt unnaturally real, as though she really were standing by a waterfall; sensing a dragon resting behind it, a nest of Phoenixes in the forest, and a herd of centaurs running through the trees some five miles away. The old woman turned her attention on the children, and her ears caught their words.  
  
“I'm hoping for a phoenix feather in my wand,” Ginevra said. “But unicorn tail hair would be nice too, I suppose.”  
  
“Would I get a wand tomorrow?” Harry said. Ginevra seemed to ponder this a moment.  
  
“I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind,” she said finally, “but I think it would depend on whether or not you've been accepted at Hogwarts. I'm sure you have, but it would be better for you to get your letter before your wand.”  
  
“Tell me about Hogwarts,” Harry asked. Ginevra let out her breath slowly, and leaned her head on his shoulder.  
  
“It's amazing,” she said, “or at least, I've heard it is. Bill said that in the Great Hall, where they have meals and school assemblies as stuff, the ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside. And Fred and George say that the castle's full of secret passageways and hidden doors, so you never quite know what to expect. I can't wait to go,” she said with a sigh.  
  
Harry put an arm around her. “Hey, I bet we could do something like that here,” he said.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“The enchanted ceiling. We could make the sky look like something.”  
  
“Yeah? What?”  
  
Harry thought about it a moment. His eyes roamed the pool around him, searching for something. Once, his eyes passed over her, and he furrowed his brow, but moved on a second later. The old woman was not concerned. Once was fine. If he showed a reaction a second time, then she would have to worry. His eyes traveled over the animals in the area, the plants, and the waterfall. The small amount of worry that she had collected when his eyes lingered on the place she stood dissipated.  
  
Then his eyes moved back to where she stood, and locked onto hers. Suddenly, Ginny looked up and gasped. The air around the old charged with power, reacting to the two children's shock.  
  
“Who are you?” Harry asked, his voice careful, as though trying not to betray the annoyance she knew was beginning to bubble up inside him.  
  
“And why are you in our dream?” Ginny snapped. She made no effort to hide her displeasure.  
  
The old woman hesitated for a fraction of a second. She had not prepared for this. The earth at her feet gave a low growl, and began to rumble. The sky darkened and the water took on a fiercer sheen.  
  
“I am Fate,” she said finally. “And I came here to observe you.”  
  
The earth settled, and the water calmed, if only to its previous state of rage, the dark clouds faded to stormy gray. The sky paled from black to a dangerous blue, and the air remained charged with magic.  
  
“Fate?” Harry repeated. “Like fate fate? Destiny?”  
  
“Yes,” she said. “I am the original spirit of fate.”  
  
“Is that your name?”  
  
“No, but to speak my name now and here would shatter the world you have created, and quite possibly your minds. Names are powerful, and the more powerful the being, the more powerful the name.”  
  
“Why do you want to watch us?” Harry asked.  
  
“I was to observe and choose the best time to give you insight into your connection.”  
  
“You know?” Ginny asked, her eyebrows raised.  
  
Fate nodded. “I am Fate,” she said. “I knew it before it began.”  
  
Both children scowled. “I hate dramatic announcements,” Ginny muttered. Harry murmured a word of agreement with her.  
  
“Will you tell us?” Harry asked.  
  
Fate considered it a moment. The fact that Harry had been able to see her was a show of his power. The world they had created, that seemed to react to their emotions but remained under their will was impressive to say the least. But their power was not what she was looking for. They did not yet have what they needed to bear the knowledge. Fate looked over them, and sighed.  
  
“I am afraid that the knowledge, if you were to gain it now, from me, would impair your journey,” she said gravely. “You must learn it on your own.”  
  
Both seemed frustrated. The sky darkened again, and the earth growled once more. Fate decided a quick retreat was best.  
  
“Why?” Ginny asked.  
  
“I cannot say. I will leave you to your dreams now. Do not be surprised if you do not remember this dream when you wake.”  
  
Fate bowed to them, and, pulled herself from their dream.  
  
“Well?” Night croaked.  
  
Fate closed her eyes. There were times when Night got on her nerves. Now was one of them.  
  
“They are more powerful than I imagined,” Fate whispered. “Their bond is strong.”  
  
Night pushed himself to his feet. The wolf nuzzled her hand. She lifted her staff from the ground, and used it to pull her from the chair. As she stood, it vanished. Chaos gave an indignant squawk and fluttered into the air. Chaos gave her the evil eye as he fluttered down onto her staff. Fate gave him no apology.  
  
“Let us go,” she said. She rested a hand on Night's head, and, in the time it took for an eye to blink, they disappeared into the darkness.  
  
  


**HGHGHGHGH GHGHGHGHG  
  
Harry**

  
  
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and Harry awoke to the sound of someone rummaging around in the room where he slept. Harry sat up, yawned, and saw Ron staggering on one leg as he pulled on a sock. He overbalanced, and fell onto the bed.  
  
“Dang it,” Ron muttered. He looked up, and saw Harry sitting up. “Oh, you're awake. You had better get dressed. Mum let us sleep as late as she could, but we've got to leave soon. Where's my shoe?” he added, looking around  
  
Harry sat on his bed a moment, his eyes on the window, trying to remember the dream he had last night. It had been different from most of his dreams, because something had happened that he had not been able to control. But what was it? He struggled to remember, but it stubbornly refused to come to his conscious mind. Harry sighed, pulled a clean tee shirt and jeans from his rucksack, and hastily pulled them on. By the time he had pulled on socks, his glasses, and trainers, Ron had found his left shoe, and was on his knees, digging through a box for the other one. Harry spotted it lying on the ground just beneath his bed.  
  
“This it?” Harry asked, picking it up.  
  
“Yes!” Ron said in relief, and Harry tossed it to him. Ron tugged it on, not bothering to do up the laces, and bounded for the door. “Come on, last one out has to wake up Ginny!”  
  
Harry ran after him. Ron took the stairs two at a time, jumping steps every other landing and banging into the walls. Harry followed more slowly, and less hazardously. Ron laughed at him he rocketed past Ginny's door.  
  
“Have fun waking up Ginny! She'll rip your head off probably!” Ron called back to him. Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
On the landing to Ginny's room, Harry stopped. Ron didn't seem to notice, bounced off another wall, and jumped to the next landing. Harry fixed his eyes on Ginny's door, wondering whether to knock. He pressed his ear to the door. Was she awake? He didn't think so. He could hear her gentle breathing, through the door and through her side of his mind. He grasped the handle, and gently turned it. He stuck his head in, to see her curled up, the blankets around her waist. She was still fast asleep, dressed in a pale yellow tank top and faded striped pajama pants. One arm dangled off the edge of the bed, the other was draped over her eyes. Her red hair was contained in a long braid, which lay on her pillow, gleaming in the light of the sun, pouring in through her window.  
  
Harry slipped inside, and crossed to her bedside on tip-toe. She looked very peaceful. He hated to wake her, but he knew she'd want to be woken sooner rather than later since they would be leaving sooner, rather than later.  
  
He gently shook her shoulder. She groaned, and waved him away. Harry grasped her hand, and lifted her arm off her face. Sunlight hit her closed eyes, and she squinted quickly to block it.  
  
“'M sleeping,” she mumbled.  
  
“It's time to get up,” Harry said.  
  
Ginny blearily opened one eye. “Hello, Harry,” she mumbled again. She yawned widely. Then, her eyes shot open, and she yanked the blankets up to her chin. Harry jumped back, as she blushed bright pink.  
  
“Harry!” she gasped. “What- what are you-”  
  
“I'm only here to wake you up,” he said, blushing himself now. “Ron said we've got to leave soon.”  
  
Ginny's eyes were still wide. “I- I'm my pajamas,” she stammered.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. “So? They're not any different from your normal clothes.”  
  
Ginny was still blushing. “You're in my room, and I'm in my pajamas,” she muttered.  
  
“I'll go, if you're uncomfortable,” he said.  
  
Ginny shook her head. “No, I'm not uncomfortable. You just surprised me, that's all.”  
  
Harry shrugged. “Well, all right. I'll wait here for you while you get dressed.” Then he blushed again. “I-I mean, I'll wait outside-”  
  
“I know what you meant,” Ginny said. “This awkwardness has got to go away soon, it's weird.”  
  
Harry laughed. “All right. Don't take too long, now.”  
  
He stepped back outside the room. Five minutes later, Ginny came out, now dressed in cut-off jeans, and a green tee shirt. She grabbed his hand and tugged him downstairs. Harry felt a smile spread across his face as she pulled him on; he could get used to this.  
  
When they arrived in the kitchen, they found Mrs. Weasley stroking an owl, a letter in her hands.  
  
“Harry, dear, it's yours,” she said.  
  
“Mine?” Harry asked, frowning.  
  
Mrs. Weasley handed him the letter. The print on the address read “Mr. H. Potter, The Burrow.”  
  
_Open it!_ Ginny encouraged him in his mind. Harry pulled open the envelope. He withdrew the letter, and his eyes scanned it quickly.  
  
_It's from Hogwarts,_ he thought.  
  
_What's it say?_  
  
His eyes traveled farther down the page. _I've been accepted._  
  
Ginny let out a squeal and hugged him very tightly around the neck. He half choked, but smiled.  
  
“What?” everyone in the kitchen called.  
  
“Can we get Harry's school things will we're at Diagon Alley too, Mum? He's going too!” Ginny asked.  
  
A brief look of worry flashed across her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Of course, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. Both Harry and Ginny grinned.  
  
Breakfast was noisy and amazing. When Harry offered to help clean up, Mrs. Weasley hushed him and told him to go outside with Ron and Ginny, saying it was Fred and George's day to clean the kitchen.  
  
Bill and Charlie weren't coming to Diagon Alley. Charlie had his summer job and Bill had job interviews. Fred, George, and Percy were coming though. Percy was still oddly formal, even though his hair was still pink. Fred and George grumbled about the kitchen, but did it anyway. Ten minutes later, they were all waiting outside the car for Mrs. Weasley.  
  
Mrs. Weasley was fumbling with the car keys. “I swear, this thing is going to be the death of me,” she muttered, as she found the right key for the door. The doors unlocked and Ron opened the back door.  
  
“Youngest in the back,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Percy up front with me.”  
  
Ron made a face, Percy dutifully took the passenger seat as the rest of them climbed into the back seat. Harry ended up squeezed between Fred and George, how, he didn't know. He glanced at Ginny, hoping she could save him somehow.  
  
Ginny grinned wickedly and shook her head at him.  
  
_You've got to learn how to stand up to them eventually,_ she thought.  
  
_Now?_ Harry thought, a little panicky.  
  
Ginny shrugged and settled into her seat. Harry sent a silent prayer that Ginny's brothers would leave him be, and in one piece.  
  
Mrs. Weasley started the car, and they pulled out of the driveway. George and Fred caught eyes above Harry, and then looked down at him in unison. Harry gulped.  
  
“So, Harry Potter,” they said together. Harry couldn't tell which was which still.  
  
“Er...” he said.  
  
“How old are you?” said the one on his left.  
  
“Eleven next week,” Harry said.  
  
They exchanged looks.  
  
“He is rather young,” said one.  
  
“Still, our sister worships the Boy Who Lived,” said the other.  
  
“I don't!” Ginny called hotly. She was blushing again.  
  
_I really don't worship you,_ Ginny said. _I know you're a thick little goose._  
  
Harry smiled at her. _I know you know. Don't worry._  
  
“Boys!” Mrs. Weasley called. “Leave him alone.”  
  
They both scowled and crossed their arms over their chests. Harry mouthed 'thank you' at Mrs. Weasley, who smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. The older set of twins sulked the rest of the drive. Harry gave Mrs. Weasley the card with his grandmother's address on it, and apparently, she knew the roads well enough to navigate without a map. Percy sat stiffly in the passenger seat.  
  
“Mum, on the way back, can I sit up front?” Ron asked rather hopefully.  
  
“Ron, it's Percy's week. You'll have to wait your turn.”  
  
Ron scowled and slumped back in the seat. Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, or at least, Harry knew she rolled her eyes, as she wasn't actually looking at him.  
  
The rest of the drive was quiet. Mrs. Weasley muttered to herself as she drove. Ginny's head drooped onto Fred's arm. Harry sat nervously, dwarfed between Ginny's brothers.  
  
_They don't bite!_ Ginny's voice teased him.  
  
_Yes they do, you've told me,_ Harry shot back.  
  
Ginny shrugged. _They'll get used to you.  
  
Until then, I'm scared. _  
  
Ginny sighed. _Don't be. I've got your back._  
  
She reached around Fred and squeezed Harry's hand. He smiled gratefully at her. Ron, Fred, and George all gave them a confused look.  
  
“Oh, right,” George said.  
  
“Telepathy,” Fred added.  
  
“Strange,” Ron muttered.  
  
Ginny caught Harry's eye and grinned. He shook his head at her, but smiled back.  
  
_What, does my amusement of their confusion amuse you?_  
  
Harry laughed. _No, your ridiculousness amuses me._  
  
Ginny laughed and Harry grinned. Her brothers looked further confused. Harry didn't bother to explain.  
  
“I think this is it,” Mrs. Weasley said. Harry looked to see her parking the car in front of a wide white farmhouse. He saw Thea's rusty pick-up parked in the drive.  
  
“Harry, Ginny, if you'll come with me, please,” Mrs. Weasley said. Ginny stepped over Fred's knees and pushed past George and Harry to the door. Harry followed her. They followed Mrs. Weasley up the walk to the farmhouse. Ginny's hand slipped into his and gave it a squeeze. He smiled at her. Mrs. Weasley knocked on the front door.  
  
It opened a moment later to reveal Thea Evans, wearing a plain blue apron covered in flour stains.  
  
“Ah, Mrs. Weasley,” Thea said with a smile. “Nice to see you. Can I help you?”  
  
“Yes,” Mrs. Weasley said. “We- that is to say my children and I- are heading to Diagon Alley today- do you know-”  
  
“Yes, I know,” Thea interrupted. “Continue.”  
  
“Anyway, we are going to Diagon Alley today and we wanted your permission to bring Harry along. He got his acceptance letter this morning from Hogwarts, see.”  
  
“Oh, of course it's all right with me,” Thea said, “it's Petunia you'll have to worry about. Hang on a mo'.” She turned back to the house. “Petunia, darling, come here please!”  
  
Harry's aunt came to the front door with a scowl. She looked so little like the woman standing next to her, that Harry wondered how it could be that they were mother and daughter.  
  
“What is it?” Petunia asked.  
  
“Mrs. Weasley here says that Harry has been accepted at Hogwarts,” Thea said. “She's going to Diagon Alley to get school things for her children and wants to get Harry's while she's there.”  
  
Petunia's scowl deepened. “I'm not paying for-”  
  
“Petunia,” Thea said sharply, “you won't have to. James and Lily left him money when they died. I've got the key to their vault, his parents can pay.”  
  
_That solves Mum's worries about paying for you,_ Ginny thought. Harry only nodded.  
  
Petunia crossed her arms over her chest. “How come you got their key?”  
  
Thea glanced at Mrs. Weasley. “Another time, dear. What do you say?”  
  
Petunia glanced at Harry, her eyes narrowed. She seemed to be thinking it all over. Finally, she sighed. “I'll let him go, but I want to come with him.”  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. “Really?” he said. “What do you want to come for?”  
  
“Someone's got to watch you,” she snapped. “Don't ask questions!”  
  
“I can go with them,” Thea said.  
  
“No,” Petunia said. “I'll need someone to watch Dudley.”  
  
Thea sighed. “I'll go get the key,” she said softly. She slipped past Petunia and into the house.  
  
“I'm going to fetch my coat,” Petunia said, and turned away. Mrs. Weasley glanced at Harry.  
  
“Is she always like this?” Mrs. Weasley asked him in a low voice.  
  
“Normally,” Harry said with a shrug. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. He guessed she was trying not to appear judgmental.  
  
_What's this mean then? Ginny thought. What's your aunt want to come with us for?  
  
I don't know. _  
  
Aunt Petunia reappeared at the door way, holding her coat and purse. She moved onto the porch with them. Thea came back a moment later, holding a small golden key in her hand.  
  
“Here you go,” Thea said, pressing the key into Harry's hand. “I haven't been inside the bank in a long time, and my memory isn't what it used to be, so I can't tell you what to expect.”  
  
“That's fine, I know,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Well, we'll be gone most of the afternoon, but we'll return Petunia before dinner.”  
  
“Thank you,” Thea said. “I'll see you then.”  
  
As she closed the door, we walked back to the car.  
  
“How far is it to London?” Harry asked.  
  
“I'm not sure,” Mrs. Weasley said, “but it doesn't really matter. We'll go back to the Burrow and Floo there.”  
  
_Have I told you what Floo powder is?_ Ginny's voice asked.  
  
_Er, I think so. It's the thing that lets you go places by fire, right?  
  
Yep, that's it.  
  
Okay. _  
  
“I'm sorry, Floo?” Petunia asked.  
  
“I'll explain it on the way,” Mrs. Weasley assured her. She tapped the passenger side door. “Percy, I'll need you to sit in the back,” she said. Percy opened his door and solemnly transferred to the back seat. Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry. He smiled at her, and climbed in after her. Fortunately, now he sat between the door and Ginny. Fred and George were on the other side of Percy. He now felt quite safe.  
  
Mrs. Weasley spent the next five minutes explaining to Aunt Petunia what Floo powder was. The rest of the ride was silent.  
  
Back at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley parked the car and they all climbed out, Aunt Petunia not bothering to hide her disgust at the state of the place. Harry felt a sudden rush of anger towards his aunt. When he moved past her to go through the kitchen door, he accidentally on purpose stepped on her foot.  
  
Floo travel was not so bad, since Ginny was there to guide through the steps. Percy went first, then the twins, then Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia looked very skeptical, and Mrs. Weasley practically had to shove her into the fireplace for her to go.  
  
The shopping trip was very interesting. First was Gringotts, where the goblins were intimidating. Next was book shops and then to get robes. Then the apothecary. Aunt Petunia waited outside for that one. Then we got the rest of our stuff, until we only need a wand.  
  
Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to want to acknowledge that she had very little money to pay for things, but she did let each of her children get one thing new. Percy wanted robes, Fred and George wanted fireworks- Harry didn't want to know why- Ron asked for a broom, but Mrs. Weasley reminded him that first years weren't allowed one, so he settled for new robes too. But Ginny said she wanted a new wand. Harry didn't need to worry, as his parents had left him quite a lot, but agreed with her that a brand new magic wand was what he wanted most.  
  
So they stood in the dark wand shop, looking around. Mrs. Weasley had turned her son's loose so they would not get in the way. Aunt Petunia sat in the corner reading a book.  
  
The owner of the shop was called Ollivander. When he came out from the back of the shop, Harry was startled by his wide silver eyes, fixed on him.  
  
“I was wondering when you would be visiting me, Mr. Potter,” Ollivander said in a soft voice.  
  
“Er, hello,” Harry said. Ginny stifled a laugh. Mr. Ollivander turned his large misty eyes on her.  
  
“Ah, another Weasley,” he said. “The first girl in seven generations, I believe.”  
  
Ginny turned pink and nodded.  
  
“I think you should go first,” Ollivander said. “What is your wand arm, my dear?”  
  
“Right,” Ginny replied. Ollivander whispered something under his breath. He turned the back of the shop, and then returned with a long, thin box. He opened it, and held it out to her.  
  
“Here, try. Poplar, with unicorn tail hair. Ten and a half inches.”  
  
Ginny pulled it from the box, but just as soon as it touched her fingers, Ollivander snatched it from her and turned back to his wall of boxes, muttering, “No, no, that wasn't it.” A minute later, he returned with another box.  
  
“Apple and phoenix feather, twelve and a quarter inches.”  
  
But apparently, that was not it either. Nor was the next, nor the next. Many wands were tried and cast aside. Harry caught woods like Cypress and Rowan and Cherry, but each was tossed onto the desk. Finally, Ollivander held out a box to her, and when she took it, he did not immediately snatch it away.  
  
“Hawthorn,” he said, “and dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches. Firm.”  
  
Ginny lifted it out of the box. As her fingers closed around it, sparks shot out of the end, gathered in the air, and formed a shape. A lightning bolt. It held that shape for a second, before exploding in brightly colored sparks.  
  
Ollivander clapped. Mrs. Weasley smiled. Ginny grinned at him. Harry grinned back, and then it was his turn.  
  
After the tenth wand, Harry stopped paying attention to what wands he was holding. The pile on the desk was growing larger than Ginny's had been. Ollivander for some strange reason, seemed to be having fun.  
  
“I love a tricky customer!” he said, flitting through the shelves.  
  
After a half hour, Harry found his ears listening to what Ollivander was saying as he stood in the back.  
  
“I wonder,” he said quietly. He glanced back at Harry, then came back out. “Holly, with phoenix feather core. Eleven inches, supple. Try.”  
  
Harry took the wand from the box. Instantly, warmth spread from his fingers up his arm. Red and gold sparks shot out of the end, and, like Ginny's had, formed a shape in the air. A winged something. Harry couldn't tell what it was.  
  
“Oh, yes, very good!” Ollivander said, beaming. “Hmm... curious.”  
  
“What's curious?” Harry asked.  
  
Ollivander glanced at the others in the room, and then lowered his voice. “I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather rests in your wand gave just one other feather, and it is the core of a yew wand I sold over fifty years ago. That wand is the wand that gave you that scar.”  
  
Harry's hand shot to his hand. “My- my wand and Voldemort's wand are connected?”  
  
Ollivander made a face. “Do not say the name, my boy, please.”  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“But, yes, your wand and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wand are brothers. Keep that in mind, Mr. Potter.”  
  
On that strange note, they paid for the two wands. They met the boys, and headed back to the Leaky Caldron. It was nearing half past five.  
  
Mrs. Weasley left them at the Burrow while she took Aunt Petunia back to Thea's. Harry and Ginny wandered back out to the garden while Ron kept working on his room.  
  
Ginny rested her head on his shoulder again, yawning. Harry gripped her hand.  
  
“So, your wand and You-Know-Who's wand are brothers?” Ginny asked suddenly.  
  
He started. “You heard?”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Harry, for the last time, I AM IN YOUR HEAD! Of course I heard.”  
  
He nodded. “I wonder what it means.”  
  
Ginny yawned again. “I wonder too.”  
  
“Go to sleep.”  
  
“I'm not tired.”  
  
“I'll use your words here, I'm in your head!” he said, laughing. “Don't lie.”  
  
“Fine, I'm tired.”  
  
“Go to sleep.”  
  
Ginny closed her eyes, her grip on his hand loosening. “You too, Harry. You're tired too.”  
  
He smiled at her, rested his head on hers, and let his eyes shut.  



	7. The First Year (In A Nutshell)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

****

**Seven: The First Year In a Nutshell  
  
Ginny**

  
  
The rest of the summer passed by in a flash. September First rushed headlong at the Weasley family plus one, and ended up knocking the wind out of them. The morning before they had to leave found them all rushing around, trying to get last minute packing done without incurring the wrath of Mrs. Weasley.  
  
The ride to King's Cross was over and done with before Ginny could blink. She was past the barrier. Her mother was hugging her tightly She was on the train. She was waving good-bye to her parents. The train was pulling out of the station. And she was gone.  
  
She sat alone with Harry in a compartment, staring out the window. Harry sat beside her, accepting her silence and providing silent comfort. She was gone, and she would not see her parents again until Christmas. Even though she had been looking forward to going to Hogwarts for years, she still felt like she had left a small part of her behind.  
  
Sometime after lunch, her head drooped onto Harry's shoulder, and she curled up on the bench.  
  
“Is all you ever do is sleep?” Harry asked her teasingly. Ginny lightly punched his arm.  
  
“I'm not sleeping,” she said. “I'm getting comfortable.”  
  
“What, you weren't comfortable before?”  
  
Ginny smacked him again. He moaned in fake agony, but smiled at her. She smiled back. She felt a little better now.  
  
It did not last. Moments later, the door to their compartment slid open, and three boys strutted in, led by a boy with sleek white blonde hair.  
  
“So,” he drawled lazily, “it's true. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”  
  
Harry frowned. “Uh, hello?”  
  
The boy glanced at Ginny, and made a face, but turned back to Harry. “My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”  
  
Ginny made a face too. He scowled at her.  
  
“What?” he said. “Think my name's funny, do you?”  
  
“No, not in the least,” Ginny snapped. “Go away.”  
  
Harry glanced at her.  
  
_What are you doing?_ He thought.  
  
_Dad's met his father, and he's a right horrible man. I highly doubt his son will be much better._  
  
“I think you should be the one to leave,” Malfoy sneered. “I know who you are. Red hair, second hand robes, freckles. You're a Weasley.” The name rolled off his tongue like it was dung in his mouth.  
  
“You got a problem with that?” Harry asked. Ginny knew Malfoy was getting on Harry's nerves.  
  
“You ought to know that some wizard families are better than others,” Malfoy said. “The Weasley's are the worst of the lot. You can do better. I can help you there.”  
  
Malfoy stuck out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry would rather eat dung.  
  
“In the few minutes you've been in here,” Harry said slowly, “you have given me the impression that you're an arrogant, spoiled child. I'm not interested in your offer. Please leave.”  
  
Malfoy's face twisted in anger. “You'll regret that move, Potter,” he said softly. He turned on his heel, and was gone. Harry sank back against the seat with a huff. Ginny squeezed his hand and lay her head on his shoulder again.  
  
No one else bothered them the rest of the trip. When a voice announced that they would be reaching Hogwarts soon and advised them to change into their robes, Harry stepped outside so she could change, and then they traded places.  
  
The squeal of the brakes could be heard. The train huffed and puffed as it pulled into the station.  
  
On the platform, a large man called for all the first years to follow him. They piled into boats and floated across the lake.  
  
The castle was large and warm and inviting. The first years filed inside, and waited for the doors to open so they could be sorted. A strict looking woman, Professor McGonagall, explained about the houses and how the sorting worked.  
  
Ginny clutched Harry's arm as the doors opened, and Professor McGonagall led them inside. They walked past four long tables, where the rest of the students already sat. McGonagall stopped before a raised platform, by a little three legged stool on which sat a patched and ragged old hat.  
  
Everyone was watching the hat. Ginny and Harry watched it too, curiously. Then, much to Ginny's surprise, a rip near the brim opened, and the hat began to sing.  
  
“Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see.  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me!  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
And your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,  
And I can cap them all!  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
That the Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you,  
Where you ought to be!  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart.  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil.  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind'  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't afraid!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none),  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!”  
  
And the hat fell into silence.  
  
Professor waited for the applause to end before calling out names. Ginny wasn't really paying attention. She was thinking about the song. So when Professor McGonagall called Harry's name, she jumped. He squeezed her hand, gave her a smile, and walked up to the platform. All around her, people were whispering 'Harry Potter?' 'The Harry Potter?' He took the hat from McGonagall, sat down, and dropped it onto his head.  
  
_“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”_ a voice whispered in her ear. She looked around, frowning. No one was near her, they were all staring up at Harry.  
  
_“A joint mind,”_ the voice said. _“How very interesting.”  
  
Uh, sorry?_ Harry's voice said.  
  
_“Come now, young miss, speak up. This is your mind just as much as it is his.”_  
  
Ginny blinked in surprise. She had not expected this.  
  
_Hello,_ she thought.  
  
_“There,” the Hat said. “That's it. What is your name, young miss?”  
  
Ginny.  
  
And this is Harry Potter, of course. Your mind is much like your mother's, Harry.  
  
It is?_ Harry thought.  
  
_“Yes. Now, to sort you two. I can't read Ginny's mind right from here, so I will sort Harry and then Ginny will wait her turn like the rest. It would be best if the school did not realize what it is you two have just yet.”  
  
Okay,_ Ginny thought.  
  
The Hat was silent a moment. Then, it spoke again. _“You have a very powerful mind, Harry Potter. I see great potential in you, bravery and loyalty, intelligence and ambition. But I think the two houses you are most fit for are Gryffindor and Slytherin. What say you?”  
  
Didn't Slytherin turn out to be mostly bad wizards?_ Harry thought, and Ginny knew it was aimed towards her.  
  
_Well, yeah,_ she answered.  
  
_“It is true,”_ the Hat said. _“But it has also turned out many great wizards in the past.”  
  
I don't want evil.  
  
“Of course you don't. Slytherin is not evil. Many Slytherin students chose that path, yes, but not all. And regardless of their morals, every student had great power, much like yourself.”_  
  
Ginny was silent, but she could hear Harry thinking. She kept her thoughts quiet, not wanting to influence him.  
  
_“I think you would flourish in Slytherin,”_ the Hat said.  
  
_I don't. I don't want Slytherin,_ Harry said. Ginny let out a sigh of relief.  
  
_“Are you sure? You are destined to be great indeed, and Slytherin would aide you in ways no other house could.”  
  
Not Slytherin.  
  
“If you insist.” _  
  
“GRYFFINDOR!” the Hat yelled for the whole hall to hear. The table behind her erupted in cheers. Harry pulled off the Hat and grinned at Ginny. She grinned back as he handed McGonagall the hat. As he passed her, he touched her shoulder with a smile of reassurance.  
  
The line emptied slowly. But, soon, McGonagall called out “Weasley, Ginevra.”  
  
Ginny winced. She hated her full name.  
  
_Your real name is Ginevra?_ Harry thought as she walked up to McGonagall.  
  
_Yeah, but I never use it. I don't like it.  
  
I think it sounds pretty. _  
  
The blush that crept up her cheeks was not because she tripped on a step on her way to the stool. She took the hat from McGonagall, and seated herself on the stool.  
  
_“Ah, Ginny, you have returned. Very good. I got a fairly good reading when Harry was wearing me, so this should not take long. I assume you wish to be in the same house as he is?”  
  
Yes.  
  
“Are you sure? You do have the potential to be in Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff.”  
  
Gryffindor, I'm sure.  
  
“I see. You won't even consider others?”  
  
I want to be in Gryffindor with Harry.  
  
“Very well.” _  
  
“GRYFFINDOR!” the Hat shouted. Ginny beamed as her brothers all cheered for her, but as Harry cheered, a warm feeling spread through her. Even though Fred and George made a space for her to sit between them, she dropped down beside Harry.  
  
_Knew you'd make it,_ Harry thought with a grin.  
  
_Then why were you biting your fingers and panicking?_ Ginny thought back teasingly. That shut him up for a good five minutes.  
  
Dinner was amazing; she ate so much that Harry teased her that her robes would not fit her. She punched him lightly and returned the compliment.  
  
Dumbledore gave a few announcements, including a ban on going in the Third Floor corridor, which she found odd, and sent them off to bed.  
  
The first few weeks of school were great, even though they were hard. They jumped right into learning, and half their time was taken up with homework. In October, Harry was inducted into the Gryffindor Quidditch team, even though he'd only ever ridden a broom once. Malfoy had hoped that he would get in trouble, but he was disappointed. Ginny felt like punching Malfoy when he challenged Harry to a duel and didn't show up. She kept that nugget of information to use for later blackmail. And, when they- they being herself, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville- ran from Filch when Malfoy didn't show, they ended up in the Forbidden Corridor, right in front of a three headed dog. Needless to say, they were out of breath and scared near witless when they got back to the common room.  
  
By the time Halloween rolled around, both Ginny and Harry were looking around to figure out where the time went. Halloween night brought on excitement, because a troll got into the dungeons. Ron, Harry, and Ginny ran off to go save Hermione, and ended up getting only ten points for Gryffindor.  
  
Harry was a wreck of nerves before the first game, but he did amazing. Nearly swallowed the Snitch but Gryffindor won. But during the game, Ginny nearly had a heart-attack when his broom suddenly tried to buck him off. Hermione fixed it by setting Snape on fire, but she still had to pinch her cheeks before she went to congratulate Harry so she didn't look white as a sheet.  
  
Time flew again. Before either Ginny or Harry could look up, Christmas was charging them head on. Ginny wrote home two weeks before Christmas begging her mother to save her because she'd forgotten to get Harry a gift. A few days later, her mum sent her a reply telling her that she had made Harry a sweater and was giving him the normal gift of pies and candies. Ginny's panic lessened but she still didn't have a gift for him. Then Mum sent her a catalog and some money, and she bought him a new pair of Seeker gloves.  
  
Christmas morning, Ginny woke up to Harry practically shouting in her brain.  
  
_WAKE UP! I'VE GOT PRESENTS!_  
  
Even thought Ginny was still half asleep, she smiled. Harry had never gotten presents on Christmas. He sounded shocked, excited, and amazed. She rolled over, trying to go back to sleep, but Harry woke her up again.  
  
_Meet me down in the common room so we can open our presents,_ he thought.  
  
_Sleep..._ she thought in a mumble.  
  
_Presents!_  
  
Ginny sighed, and sat up slowly. She had a pile of presents at the bottom of her bed too.  
  
_I'm bringing Ron, you drag Hermione out of bed._ Ever since Halloween, Hermione had joined their group, and the four of them were inseparable.  
  
_Fine, but I'm blaming you if Hermione hexes me.  
  
That's okay, just come downstairs! _  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes, swung her legs out of bed, and shoved her feet in her slippers.  
  
“Hermione!” she called.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” Hermione mumbled. They were the only ones in the dorm, since most people had gone home for the holidays. Ginny had stayed because Harry wasn't going, her brothers had stayed because their parents were visiting Charlie, and Hermione stayed because her parents were going to a dentisty or something conference, and she wasn't particularly interested in dentisty.  
  
Ginny poked her head through Hermione's curtains. Hermione lay on her side, hugging one of her pillows and curled up in a ball. Ginny nudged her shoulder.  
  
“Come on, we're going to open presents in the common room,” Ginny said.  
  
“Why?” Hermione whined.  
  
“Because this is the first Christmas that Harry's got presents and I want to see his face when he opens them. Get up.”  
  
Hermione rolled onto her back and glared at Ginny. “This is your fault,” Hermione growled.  
  
“Nope, blame Harry.”  
  
Ten minutes later, Ginny and Hermione- still yawning- made their way downstairs with their presents. They found Ron sitting in an arm chair, vibrating like he was a dog wanting to chase a squirrel as he stared at his pile of presents before him, and Harry sitting on the couch. Harry jumped to his feet when they entered the room. Ron raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry dropped back to the couch blushing. Hermione giggled. Ginny rolled her eyes again, but smiled at Harry.  
  
The instant she and Hermione were seated, Ron tore into his presents. Ginny was used to his frenzy on Christmas morning, and Harry had heard about it from her, but Hermione had never seen him. She stared in shock a moment, before opening her own presents.  
  
Harry opened each of his presents with care. Ginny was almost too focused on her friend to open her own presents, but managed it. Harry beamed as he opened the gifts from her mother, and grinned wider when he unwrapped the gloves she'd given him.  
  
“Open that one next,” Harry told her, pointing to a medium sized box near the bottom of her pile. Curious, Ginny extracted it without toppling her pile. She pulled aside the paper, and gasped. She pulled out a wooden box. She ran her fingers over the flowers and dragons carved on the lid, and lifted it open. There was a mirror inside the lid, but she was more interested in the picture tucked inside. It was a photo of her, Ron, Hermione, and Harry, all grinning madly and waving.  
  
“Like it?” Harry asked.  
  
“It's amazing,” she said, beaming at him. “Thank you!”  
  
A while later, Ron, Hermione, and she had finished their presents. Harry had only one left, and everyone was watching him, wondering what was in the unmarked package. He tore open the paper, and shook out a cloak.  
  
This was no ordinary cloak though. Ginny watched it fall open like a jug of water turning over and spilling its contents over the floor. The cloak shimmered in the half-light pouring through the windows and glimmered in the glow of the fire. Ginny reached out a hand and felt the fabric. It did feel like water, softer than any silk she could imagine.  
  
“What is it?” Ron asked in a low voice.  
  
Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth, her face registering shock.  
  
“What?” Harry said, frowning.  
  
“That- I think, oh, Harry!” Hermione said, obviously at a loss for words. “Try it on, if it's what I think it is- put it on!”  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny, and shrugged. He swung the cloak around his shoulders, and suddenly he vanished.  
  
Ginny gasped and shot to her feet. Ron let out a yelp and knocked his chair over. Harry looked down at his body, but it wasn't there anymore.  
  
“It's an invisibility cloak!” Hermione said, “I was right!”  
  
“Look, something fell out,” Harry said. His head bent down and lowered, Ginny guessed he was now squatting, and a slip of parchment was lifted into the air as though on its own. Ginny shivered. It was creepy, and awesome.  
  
“'Your father left this in my possession before he died,'” Harry read aloud. “'It is time it was returned to you. A very merry Christmas to you.' No signature. Huh, wonder who it was,” he said, looking down at the paper with a frown.  
  
Ginny stepped forward, staring open-mouthed at the floating head of her best friend. She reached out, and poked what she guessed to be his chest, since she couldn't see him.  
  
“Ow,” he said pointedly, dropping the note onto a table.  
  
“You're invisible,” Ginny muttered. A grin broke her face. “We are so pranking Fred and George with this!”  
  
Hermione made a noise as if to argue her statement, but Ginny flicked her wand over her shoulder and Hermione found herself unable to talk due to the fact that Ginny had conjured a gag over Hermione's mouth.  
  
“Will it fit over two?” Ginny asked. Harry lifted the cloak, revealing his body, and grabbed her arm. He threw it over her too, and Ginny found herself standing very close to him and invisible. She could see Ron tugging at the gag, and Hermione looking around to see where they had gone. Harry had pulled the cloak over his head, so they were both completely invisible. Her heart thumped in her chest. Harry's breath fell on her face.  
  
_What charm did you use?_ Harry thought as Ron and Hermione started looking around the room for them.  
  
_Praeligus charm. Fred and George taught it to me.  
  
Nice,_ Harry thought. _Teach me?  
  
Of course. _  
  
Harry grinned. She grinned back.  
  
The cloak was tugged off them by a very not amused Hermione.  
  
“That's enough of that,” she said. “Come on, it's lunch time.”  
  
That night, Ginny was half asleep when Harry's voice startled her so badly, she fell out of bed.  
  
_Ginny, wake up!_  
  
Rubbing her bum, and a glower on her face, Ginny rose to her feet. _It is bloody half past one. WHAT?  
  
Geez, no need to be irritated. I want to show you something._  
  
Ginny sighed. An image of Harry sticking out his bottom lip, clasping his hands together below his chin, and his eyes wide made her smile. He rarely resorted to using his begging face on her, whatever it was had to be important.  
  
_Fine, but promise to let me sleep past nine tomorrow.  
  
Deal! _  
  
Ginny grabbed her robe, slippers, and wand and hurried down to the common room. Hermione slept on.  
  
_Harry?_ She thought, looking around for him.  
  
Suddenly, something grabbed her arm and tugged her forward. She let out a yelp of surprise, and found herself standing next to Harry beneath his brand new invisibility cloak.  
  
“Come on,” he whispered, still holding her arm.  
  
Ginny glared at him. “Don't do that again,” she chided him.  
  
He shrugged. “Come on, I have to show you what I found!”  
  
His hand moved from her arm to grasp her hand, and he pulled her from the common room, through the halls, down stairs, until she had no idea where they were, and stopped before an opened door.  
  
They were both panting, but Harry pulled her through the door before she could catch her breath.  
  
It looked like an unused classroom. All the desks had been pushed up against the walls, there was dust floating in the moon's glow. But what caught Ginny's eye was the huge mirror leaning against the opposite wall.  
  
_Harry,_ she thought, since she was still too winded to speak, _we are still wearing the cloak, right?_  
  
“Yeah,” Harry panted.  
  
_Then why can I see us in that mirror?_  
  
Harry shrugged again. He pulled her forward, until they stood right before it.  
  
“I saw something in the mirror,” he said, looking at her. “And I just had to show you.”  
  
Ginny glanced at the mirror. _Show me what?_  
  
Harry let out a little groan. “Can you please talk?” he said.  
  
Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. _Why?  
  
Because I like to hear —_ “Never mind,” his voice interrupted his thought. Ginny raised an eyebrow, and he blushed.  
  
“You like to hear what?”  
  
“Forget it. I want to tell you what I saw.”  
  
Ginny sighed. She'd get it out of him later. “What is it?”  
  
“Well, look!”  
  
She looked at the mirror, at her confused expression and Harry's eager one. “I only see us.”  
  
“Look at it properly, here, I'll move.” Harry pulled the cloak off her and stepped back. She glanced at him, and saw him reappear by one of the desks, dropping the cloak onto it. She glanced back at the mirror, and clapped her hands to her mouth.  
  
“What?”  
  
She was looking at herself now, but Harry was still standing by her. She glanced around, and Harry was standing by the desk. Slowly, she lowered her hands.  
  
“What does this mirror do?” she asked quietly.  
  
“I'm not sure. But when I stood in front of it earlier, I saw my parents, Ginny. And a bunch of other people that looked like the rest of my family.” Then his cheeks colored, and Ginny frowned at him. She saw the image that came with the memory Harry was focusing on. Him standing before the mirror, looking on in shock at a room full of people. A dark haired man with glasses and a woman with red hair like hers. And her, standing beside him with her hand in his.  
  
Ginny glanced back at the mirror. Harry by the desk watched her curiously. Harry in the mirror smiled and took her hand.  
  
“Harry,” she said softly. “I don't see your family...”  
  
His shoulders shrugged. “I figured you wouldn't. Do you see your family?”  
  
She shook her head, and, deciding there was no point in not telling him, she said “I only see us.”  
  
Harry frowned. “But I'm over here.”  
  
Ginny nodded. “I noticed.”  
  
She glanced down at Mirror Harry's hand holding hers. Her eyes flicked between the two faces, as the Harry in the mirror leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her hand flew to her cheek.  
  
“What?”  
  
Real Harry walked back over, and then there were two Harry's standing on either side of her.  
  
“I- it- but-” she stammered. Harry frowned at her. Wordlessly, she thought of the image of mirror Harry leaning down and kissing her cheek; it was the only way to convey her surprise. Harry blushed scarlet. Ginny realized with a start she was too.  
  
“Well, it doesn't show family,” Harry said, still blushing.  
  
“Quite right you are, Mr. Potter.”  
  
The two children jumped around, Ginny with her wand drawn. Sitting on one of the desks in the corner by the door, was Professor Albus Dumbledore.  
  
He slipped off the desk and approached them, a twinkle in his eye.  
  
“It shows neither the past nor the future,” he said. “Take a look at the inscription.”  
  
Ginny turned, and her eyes flew over the words carved into the metal frame. Her eyes darted over it again, the gears in her brain turning. It didn't look like Latin, maybe Irish? She'd seen a letter from one of her mum's friends written in Irish, and this looked similar. But, as her eyes went from the end back to the beginning, she noticed something.  
  
The very last word was 'erised'. But when her eyes moved over it in the other direction, it looked like 'desire'.  
  
_You getting what I'm getting?_ Harry thought.  
  
_It's backwards?  
  
Like in a mirror. _  
  
Ginny nodded absently, and ran her eyes over the words again, this time end to beginning. The words had been jumbled up and scrambled, but, with Harry's input, she translated the simple sentence into English.  
  
“I show you not your face but your heart's desire,” she said, turning back to Dumbledore. He smiled, a smile of pride, at her. She'd seen a similar smile on Fred and George's face when she'd turned all of Ron's underwear into the classic cartoon white with red hearts boxers. Harry caught her eye and raised an eyebrow at the image that had popped up with it. She explained quickly, and he stifled a snort.  
  
“It is indeed,” Dumbledore said. If he noticed Harry's snort, he did not acknowledge it. “This is called the Mirror of Erised. I trust you now know what it does?”  
  
Ginny looked back at the mirror, and thought of Harry holding her hand. She'd held his hand before. It wasn't all that special. But that kiss... It had felt strange, even if she'd only seen it, but a good kind of strange. 'I show you not your face but your heart's desire'... It had shown her standing side by side with Harry, and it had shown Harry his family and her. She set her mind working. Harry had never had people who cared about him until he met her family, until he met her. He wanted someone to care about him. He had seen his family, so the inscription had to mean that it showed the onlooker what their heart wanted most.  
  
_Why aren't you in Ravenclaw again?  
  
Shut up.  
  
Yes ma'am. _  
  
“It shows us what we want most,” she said aloud. Dumbledore beamed at her.  
  
“That it does,” he said. “The deepest desire of our hearts, even if we have not yet realized what it is.”  
  
She could have sworn his eyes rested on her when he said that.  
  
Before she knew it, Christmas holidays were over and school was back to bother her. January flew by in a flurry of snow, February rushed them with a load of lacy pink paper and giggles, March took its time stopping the snow, April showed clearer skies and warmer weather, and before she knew it, it was May and her birthday choose to smack her upside the head with a two-by-four. On the morning of the eleventh, Ginny was expecting a lie-in because it was Saturday, but apparently, Harry had other ideas.  
  
_WAKE UP!_  
  
Like she had on Christmas, Ginny gave a startled gasp and fell off the side of the bed.  
  
_Quit that, you're going to hurt yourself.  
  
You try having someone scream inside your head while they're sleeping!  
  
Okay, gimme a second to fall asleep, then you can yell._  
  
Ginny smacked her forehead with her palm.  
  
“Ginny, are you okay?” called one of her roommates, Lavender Brown.  
  
“Fine,” Ginny called back. _See what you did? You woke up Lady Lavender.  
  
And here I was thinking only a hurricane could. I feel so accomplished._ Ginny rolled her eyes at his sarcasm and stood.  
  
_What did you want?  
  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  
  
STOP YELLING! What?  
  
I said happy birthday.  
  
It's my birthday? _  
  
It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. Ginny glanced around and spotted a calender by Hermione's bed. Hermione had gone somewhere already, so her bed was empty and made. Ginny scrambled over to the calender, and her eyebrows shot up when she saw the date. May 11th, her birthday.  
  
_Wow, I forgot my own birthday.  
  
Seriously? How do you do that?  
  
Guess it's easy when Mum isn't pestering me about what I want to do._ A second later, she realized her mistake. _I'm sorry, Harry, I forgot-  
  
Yeah, it's easy to do that._ He didn't sound angry with her. _It's okay._ Relieved, Ginny turned to her trunk and pulled out clothes. She dressed at top-speed, forgot shoes, and ran downstairs, nearly knocking Harry over when she came rocketing from the girls' dorms.  
  
“Sorry,” she said, blushing. For some reason, she had been blushing more around him ever since Christmas.  
  
“It's okay,” he said again. “Come on, I got Fred and George to tell me how to get into the kitchens. We are going to have a good Saturday brunch.”  
  
“Ron and Hermione coming?”  
  
“Nah, I gave Ron his present earlier. I wanted to give you yours in private.”  
  
Ginny fought down images of just what could happen in private, and, after cursing whatever part of her mind that had brought them up, she prayed Harry hadn't seen them. Harry grabbed her hand- he'd been doing that more often since Christmas- and pulled her from the common room.  
  
When he finally stopped dragging her, they stood in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit. He reached up and tickled the pear. It giggled — could pears giggle? — and turned into a large door-knob. Harry turned it, and led her into the kitchen.  
  
The kitchen was alive and bustling with house elves. They seemed to expect her and Harry because they surrounded them and led them over to a small table set up by a fireplace. Harry gave a low mock bow, and Ginny laughed.  
  
“All this for me?” she said, taking a seat.  
  
“My best friend deserves the best birthday.”  
  
Ginny couldn't help but smile. Harry grinned at her and dropped into a chair. House elves swarmed them again and plates with pancake stacks were set down before them, drowning in delicious smelling boysenberry syrup.  
  
Ginny did not hesitate to eat her fill. After the plates had been cleaned, Ginny propped her elbows up on the table and looked at Harry, who for some reason didn't want to meet her eye.  
  
_What's up?_ She thought warily.  
  
_Can't I give my best friend a great birthday?  
  
You only use the best friend card when you're hiding something. What's up? _  
  
Harry sighed. “You got me.”  
  
“Course I did. I know everything about you.”  
  
He nodded. “You really are my best friend though,” he said.  
  
She blushed. “I know,” she said. “You're mine.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
“So what's this about?”  
  
Harry propped his chin on his hand, looking at her. His intense green eyes were full of something she had never seen there before.  
  
“I'm going past the trapdoor,” he said suddenly.  
  
Her eyebrows shot up. “You're what?”  
  
“I'm going down the trapdoor. Snape will steal the stone if I don't.”  
  
Ginny stared at him a moment. Then she reached across the table, grabbed his hand, and gave it a squeeze. “You mean we.”  
  
His eyes lit up. “It will be dangerous.”  
  
“Danger is my middle name.”  
  
“I thought it was Molly?”  
  
“Don't change the subject,” she said, shaking a finger at him. “I can hold my own in a fight, you know that.”  
  
He did know. The two of them were tied for best marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
“It won't be easy.”  
  
“I'll live. I'm going with you.”  
  
_I can't convince you to stay behind?_  
  
“No.”  
  
Harry nodded slowly. “Knew it. I told Ron you wouldn't stay behind, but he wanted me to try.”  
  
“Ron's in on it?”  
  
“Yeah, I had to tell him. Not mad I told him first, are you?”  
  
Ginny shrugged. “Not really.”  
  
Harry squinted at her. “What?” she said.  
  
“I'm trying to decide whether you've been taken over by a Martian or a a unicorn.”  
  
She laughed. “When are we going down?”  
  
“I can't be sure, so stay on your guard.”  
  
They didn't go after the Sorcerer's Stone that night, not even that week. By the time exams came around, they still had not chased it down, so Ginny was beginning to wonder if they were going at all. But the last day of exams, Harry came to her with a look of determination.  
  
_Tonight,_ he thought.  
  
Ginny squeezed his hand. _Tonight._  
  
That night, she, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were crowded under the invisibility cloak. Ginny still felt guilty for hexing Neville, but he couldn't stop them.  
  
Harry played his wooden flute to lull Fluffy to sleep. They jumped past the trapdoor, and landed in devil's snare. Hermione beat it by conjuring fire. Then they had to fly on brooms to catch a flying key, Hermione stayed on the ground for that one. Then, giant chess, and Ron led them to victory. But he was injured pretty bad, so Hermione stayed back to care for him. She and Harry moved on. They passed a knocked out troll and pinched their noses, and went on to the next room.  
  
The instant they passed over the threshold, purple flames sprung up in front of the door and black flames before the next. A table stood with seven bottles and a roll of parchment on it. She and Harry moved towards it warily.  
  
Ginny unrolled the parchment.  
  
“What is it?” Harry asked. Ginny's eyes flew over the paper, and she let out a sigh.  
  
“Logic,” she muttered. “Why logic?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“It's a logic problem,” she said. “Here.”  
  
Harry read the paper quickly. “Okay, how do we do it?”  
  
Ginny took the paper back and spread it across the table. Seven total, one would take them forward, one would take them back, two were nettle wine, three were poisons. The poisons would be on the wine's left, the ones on the end would not bring a person forward, the biggest bottle and the smallest bottle were not poisons, and the second on the left and the second on the right looked different, but tasted the same. The second on the left and right seemed to be the wine, which meant that the poison would be to the left of them, so the left end was poison. The bottle to the very left of the second on the right, which was the biggest, was most likely poison. The one on the right end was not going to move someone forward, but it was also not a poison nor a nettle wine, so it had to be the one that took you back. The smallest was to the very right of a nettle wine, and it was also not a poison, which had to mean that it was the one that brought someone back.  
  
_Again, you should be in Ravenclaw._  
  
Ginny smiled at Harry. She picked up the two potions, and looked at them worriedly.  
  
“It looks like only enough for one person,” she said, looking at the bottle to move a person forward. She glanced at Harry, and sighed.  
  
“I've got to go on,” Harry said. Ginny nodded.  
  
“Just be careful,” she told him. She took the potion to go back, he took the one to go forward, and, together, they downed the contents.  
  
Ginny watched Harry cross the flames, and, for the first time in her life, she couldn't hear his voice in her mind.  
  
When she, Ron, and Hermione got back out to the school, they ran into Dumbledore, who didn't even pause to ask why they were out of bed. He just asked “He's gone after it, hasn't he?” and ran off.  
  
Ginny refused to return to the tower, or even go to the Hospital Wing, and waited outside the door to the corridor for Dumbledore and Harry to return. She still could not hear Harry's voice in her head. When they did, Harry was unmoving and silent in Dumbledore's arms. Ginny nearly had a heart attack, until Dumbledore assured her that he was just unconscious.  
  
Ginny would not leave his bedside in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore let her off classes while she waited for her best friend to wake up. She held his hand and begged him to open his eyes. Madam Pomfrey had fixed his physical injuries in a heartbeat, but said she could not be sure how his mind had been affected until he woke. Ginny prayed that he would still be fine when he finally woke up.  
  
Three days after they had gone down the trapdoor, Ginny was slumped in a chair, her fingers loosely clasped around Harry's, asleep, when Harry opened his eyes.  
  
_Gin?_  
  
Ginny started, to see Harry's eyes open, unfocused, and looking at her.  
  
“Harry!” she gasped, and flung her arms around his neck.  
  
“Whoa, don't strangle me!” Harry said, patting her back. Ginny pulled back, suddenly angry.  
  
“Don't you ever do that to me again,” she snapped. “You hear me? Never!”  
  
“Wait, what? What did I do?”  
  
Ginny hugged him again. “I thought you would never wake up,” she mumbled in his ear. Harry was silent a moment, then he gave her a gentle squeeze.  
  
“I won't,” he said. “I promise.”  
  
Ginny sank back in her chair, blinking back tears of relief. “I couldn't hear you,” she said. “After you passed through the fire, I couldn't hear your thoughts.”  
  
“I know, I couldn't hear you. I nearly panicked.”  
  
Ginny let out a small chuckle. “You're a goose, you know,” she said.  
  
“Oh, I'm hurt,” Harry said sarcastically.  
  
Ginny laughed.  
  
The rest of the year passed quickly. All too soon, the Leaving Feast was over and they were boarding the train. She and Harry sat with her twin, Hermione, and Neville on the ride back to King's Cross.  
  
Ginny ran to hug her mother when they left the platform, and her father too. Hermione left to find her parents after hugging Ginny and telling her and the boys to have a good summer. Harry, almost shyly, hugged her good-bye, and walked over to where his aunt stood waiting for him with his shoulders slumped.  
  
_You'd better come visit me,_ Ginny thought. Harry turned back to her, and smiled.  
  
_You know I will._  
  
And then, he was gone.  



	8. The Chamber Condensed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

  
Eight: The Chamber Condensed  
  
Harry

  
  
That summer, Harry stayed at his grandmother's farm. Aunt Petunia was out almost every day — looking for a new place and a job — and Dudley spent all of his time indoors, but Harry was outside every day. Thea drove him to The Burrow in the mornings, and Mrs. Weasley drove him back in the evenings, or he just stayed there for the night. Aunt Petunia grew nicer with each day, even coming to tell him good night when he wasn't at The Burrow. He and Ginny puzzled over it, and decided that his grandmother was a good influence on his aunt. Uncle Vernon would phone once a day, and never got an answer. Aunt Petunia actually had to restrain Thea from picking up the phone and giving her 'no-good son-in-law' a piece of her mind.  
  
One evening, Harry was in his room at his grandmother's, reading a book Ron had lent him on the Chudley Cannons when a loud CRACK startled him into dropping it.  
  
Before him stood the strangest creature he had ever seen. It was three feet tall, had leathery green skin, enormous green eyes, ears like a bat's, and was dressed in a dirty cloth that resembled a pillowcase.  
  
The creature said his name was Dobby, he was a house-elf, and he was there to warn him to not return to school. Harry flatly refused to not go back to Hogwarts. Dobby begged and begged him, but Harry would not budge. Eyes watering, the house-elf vanished with another loud CRACK.  
  
A few days later, Mrs. Weasley took him, Ginny, her brothers, and his aunt to Diagon Alley to get their school things. He, Ron, and Ginny wondered why Aunt Petunia insisted on coming again, because all she did was look like she didn't want to be there. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if she was there because she missed magic, but he abandoned the theory when she turned her nose up at Quality Quidditch Supplies. They met Draco Malfoy and his father in Flourish and Blotts, and Harry was very pleased to say that when they left, Draco was sporting a flowing nose bleed and Malfoy Senior a black eye, though Mr. Weasley got to claim credit for Mr. Malfoy's injury. They also met Gilderoy Lockhart, whom Mrs. Weasley seemed very fond of and every other Weasley — including Ginny — regarded with distaste. Harry had to agree with Ginny, the man was self-centered, and, in Ginny's words, “Looked like someone had tried to make him handsome and tried too hard.” Of course it didn't help Lockhart's case when he dragged Harry out of the crowd and made him stand for the _Daily Prophet_ photographer's pictures. It turned out that Lockhart would be taking the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts as well. Harry's afternoon was fully ruined by the time they left even though he did manage to rearrange Malfoy's nose.  
  
As August rolled past, Harry had noticed something odd in the way his aunt looked at him; like she was feeling both guilty and angry at the same time. By then he had also noticed that Ginny was looking at him funny too. Sometimes he'd catch her thinking about him, but not to him, and when he asked about it, she would tell him to mind his own business. To be honest, it did sound like his business — since she was thinking about him — but he didn't dare bring it up. He didn't want to risk a fight.  
  
On the morning of September 1st, Harry was staying with the Weasleys. They agreed to take him to King's Cross with them, so he found himself in their car, looking out the back window and wondering when he'd see The Burrow again.  
  
Of course, he was back five minutes later. And five minutes after that. First, Fred forgot his fireworks. Then George his broomstick. Then, just as they were about to pull out onto the main road, Ginny shrieked in Harry's ear that she'd forgotten her diary. He asked her when she even got the diary, but she didn't answer, just turned pink and ran to get it.  
  
They pulled into King's Cross at quarter to eleven. They all rushed to the barrier, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny ended up the last ones to go. But, when Harry tried to get past the barrier, it wouldn't let him through.  
  
So that was how he found himself back in the car with Ron and Ginny flying it to Hogwarts.  
  
They crashed into a tree, and got detention. Hermione was cross with them, the other students were impressed, and both Ron and Ginny received a Howler from their mum a week later. To make matters worse, Ron's wand had been snapped when the tree started pummeling them. He attempted to repair it with Spellotape, but the results were just short of explosive. Then, a first year called Colin Creevey started following Harry everywhere, talking nonstop and waving his camera around. One morning during break, he asked Harry for a picture and — to make it more embarrassing — asked him to sign it. Then Lockhart showed up and made Harry stand for the photo — again.  
  
First term started out excellently, Harry found himself thinking sarcastically.  
  
As the year moved on, Ginny started spending less and less time with him, Ron, and Hermione. She spent hours holed up in her dorm or the library, and there were times when Harry couldn't even hear her voice in his mind. He tried to get her to talk to him about it, but she would just brush him off by saying that she was working on homework, or spending time with her other friends. Harry was growing even more worried about her, and very confused. One minute, she would be cheerful and laughing with him, the next she looked tired, and would just walk off, claiming she needed to do homework. She developed dark circles under her eyes, and she wasn't smiling as much as she used to do. But even when she did, her smile did not quite reach her eyes. Harry thought he was being driven around the bend as she became more and more distant because as September turned into October, her voice wasn't the only one he could hear in his mind. A second, soft voice appeared. It was never loud enough for him to hear what it was saying, but the sound of it sent chills down his spine.  
  
Around Halloween, Harry's worry turned into panic.  
  
He was at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, having Ginny tease him about the feast he'd left behind, when suddenly, he couldn't hear her anymore. He panicked, and ran flat out up towards the Great Hall, but he ran right into Percy, who told him she'd gone back up to the Tower, that she wasn't feeling right. Ignoring Ron and Hermione asking him what was happening, he started up the stairs to find her. Before he could take two steps though, he froze as the second voice touched his ears, but this time he could hear what it was saying.  
  
_“Come, come, let me rip you, let me tear you... let me kill you...”_  
  
His panic growing greater and greater with each second, he followed the voice, Ron and Hermione running after him.  
  
He stopped on the second floor, staring in horror at a wall painted with ominous warning and the frozen body of Mrs. Norris.  
  
Dumbledore kept him, Ron, and Hermione a while after that as he examined Mrs. Norris. Harry fidgeted as Dumbledore looked over the cat, anxiously glancing at his watch. By the time Dumbledore pronounced Mrs. Norris petrified and Harry innocent, his watch was ticking closer and closer to midnight. Dumbledore let them go, and Harry sprinted up to Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Hermione on his heels.  
  
He finally found her, slumped on a couch in the common room over a little black book.  
  
“Ginny!” he said in relief, shaking her awake.  
  
“What?” she said, blinking up at him. “What's up?”  
  
“I couldn't hear you!” he said. “I was talking to you, and halfway through a sentence you vanished!”  
  
“What?” she said, frowning. She opened her mouth, still looking confused, but then shut it abruptly, her eyes becoming hollow. “Look, I'm tired, I'm going to bed.”  
  
“Ginny!” Harry called after her, but she just walked up the girls' stairs, sending him a quick mental good night.  
  
The school was buzzing the next day. Hermione got Professor Binns to tell them about the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry heard Ginny stifle a minute of mental panic as the ghost explained the legend. He tried to ask her about it, but she shut him out, startling him. He didn't even notice when Binns picked up his lecture about Goblin Rebellions.  
  
He, Ron, and Hermione decided to do something. Harry tried to get Ginny involved, but she just told him she didn't have the time and walked away. This bothered him, but Ron and Hermione did their best to keep his mind on the plan they were hatching. Or rather, they were helping Hermione hatch. There was a potion — Polyjuice Potion she said — that could make the drinker look like someone else for a while.  
  
Hermione got Lockhart permission to check out the book with all the information from the Restricted Section of the Library. It wasn't hard; Lockhart was so full of it that he would sign anything that stood still long enough. Next, they locked themselves in Moaning Myrtle's Out of Order bathroom. Harry and Ron were both very startled when Hermione asked them to spend all that time brewing the Polyjuice Potion in a girls' bathroom, even more so when they found out that to actually brew the potion they would have to steal ingredients from Snape. But, it was for the greater good, and they bowed to Hermione's superior wisdom. So their plan was set into motion.  
  
His next Quidditch game a rogue Bludger broke his arm, and Gilderoy Lockhart — Harry was getting very very ticked with the idiot — vanished all the bones in it, making it look like a large rubber thing had been attached to his shoulder. He spent the night in the hospital wing, tossing in a fitful sleep. Ginny had visited that evening, but left rather quickly after only five minutes.  
  
Harry woke rather suddenly to find Dobby the house-elf sponging his forehead.  
  
“Get off!” he said, sitting up and knocked the elf away.  
  
Dobby squeaked and dropped his sponge. “Harry Potter, sir why isn't you listening to Dobby? Why isn't you staying at home?”  
  
“What do you want Dobby?” Harry asked, sitting up and rubbing moisture off his forehead.  
  
“Dobby wants to apologize for his Bludger, sir.”  
  
“Your Bludger?” Harry repeated, frowning. “You mean you messed with that bludger? You told it to kill me?”  
  
“No, not kill you, sir, never kill you!” the elf cried with wide eyes. “Dobby just wanted you to be sent home, sir.”  
  
Harry flopped back on his pillows. “Well, if they're going to they haven't told me. Why are you trying to get me mutilated, then?”  
  
“Dobby wants you to be safe, sir!” the elf squeaked.  
  
“And charming a Bludger to break every bone in my body does that how?”  
  
“Better to be sent home severely injured, sir, than to stay here while the Chamber of Secrets is opening again!”  
  
Dobby clapped his hands over his mouth like he had let out a disgusting swear word. The little elf grabbed the bottle of Skele-Gro on the table beside Harry and raised it, ready to crack it over his own head. Harry snatched the bottle out of Dobby's hands before he could start beating himself.  
  
“Don't do that,” he admonished. Dobby's fingers inched towards the dark lamp on the night table. “Don't!” Harry insisted. The elf's hands dropped to his sides.  
  
“Thank you, Harry Potter sir,” Dobby said. “You is great indeed.”  
  
“What did you mean, again?” Harry asked. Dobby glanced at the lamp again. “Tell me what you can without hurting yourself,” Harry added.  
  
Dobby thought a moment. “The Chamber is real sir, it is being opened fifty years ago. The monster inside is attacking many students then, and is killing one girl before it is stopping. The person that is being punished for it is innocent though sir. He is not opening the Chamber.”  
  
“Who was punished?” Harry asked, frowning.  
  
“The gamekeeper, sir, Hagrid.”  
  
These words hit Harry like an anvil. “What?” he gasped.  
  
“But Hagrid is not doing it sir! It is being a bad boy, a bad — bad —” Dobby lunged for the lamp. Harry grabbed him and tugged him away from the heavy object, the elf struggling to punish himself.  
  
“Okay, I get it, you can't tell me!” Harry said. “Why not?”  
  
Dobby stopped struggling. He looked up at Harry with reproachful eyes. “Dobby is not supposed to be telling his master's business, sir. Dobby is supposed to be keeping his master's secrets, but Dobby is knowing that if he is not helping Harry Potter then Harry Potter will be losing his most precious!”  
  
“Precious what?”  
  
“His most precious!”  
  
“Yeah, you said that, but what is it?”  
  
Dobby opened his mouth, but just then voices reached their ears, coming from the hallway beyond.  
  
“Dobby must go, sir!” Dobby said, and with a crack, he vanished. Harry fell back against the pillows and quickly pretended to be asleep.  
  
It was Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the petrified form of Colin Creevey. Harry listened them, and his spirits sank as he heard Dumbledore confirm what Dobby had been saying. The Chamber of Secrets was open and it had been opened before. He told Ron and Hermione as soon as he could, but as he had both dreaded and expected, Ginny didn't care. So their foursome became — for what Harry hoped would be a very short time — a trio.  
  
Lockhart started a dueling club, but it turned out to be useless. In fact, Harry found himself fervently wishing that Lockhart would just pack up and leave, because he kept embarrassing Harry. First it was the _Daily Prophet_ article, then Colin and his stupid desire for a signed photo, and now Parseltongue. Harry was could speak to snakes, and he had to go and find that out for the first time in front of the entire school. Now it wasn't just Ginny who avoided him, it was the whole school except for Ron, Hermione, and for some reason, the twins. Fred and George seemed to find it all very funny, and made a huge deal about marching in front of him calling “Make way for the heir of Slytherin!”  
  
Christmas holidays meant that the castle was near empty, but for the Weasleys and a few other students, including Malfoy. Ginny was disappearing from Harry's mind more and more often. Each time she vanished from his head, his worry and panic grew, but when he found her, she would snap at him or just give him a blank look and leave him confused and hurt. He tried to reconcile whatever he had done in every way he could, he even tried to carry her books for her. But Ginny's behavior grew more and more erratic, either giving him a smile or a glare. Christmas day, he sent her a box of the best chocolates he could find and waited for her in the common room.  
  
When she came down, she was still in her pajamas, her red hair escaping from a loose braid. Her eyes were weary, purple circles resting beneath them. She gave him a tired smile and sat down next to him on the couch.  
  
“Are you all right?” Harry asked. She shrugged.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Why haven't you been talking to me? Why have you been avoiding me?”  
  
Her eyes flashed sparks. “Just because I don't spend every second with you, Potter, doesn't mean I'm avoiding you!”  
  
“You have!” he insisted. “What's been happening to you? I'm worried about you.”  
  
Ginny flopped back against the couch with a sigh. “Nothing's happening,” she said, but he knew she was lying. He gripped her hand with both of his, a frown creasing his brow.  
  
_Something's wrong, Ginny,_ he thought. She glanced at him. In her eyes, he could see exhaustion, and angst. She glanced down at her hand in his, then met his eyes again. His heart skipped a beat; there was something in her eyes that raised the hairs on the back of his neck and made his blood run cold. She opened her mouth, but then her eyes darkened, and became hollow again. She tugged her hand out of his and stood up, walking away from him without a backward glance, without responding to him when he called after her.  
  
That night, he, Ron, and Hermione took the Polyjuice potion. Hermione didn't go with them to question Malfoy, and when they returned they found out why. She had a tail, and whiskers, and fur everywhere that they could see. They took her straight to Madam Pomfrey, who fortunately didn't question them. Their efforts to get into the Slytherin Common room were useless, because Malfoy wasn't the heir of Slytherin. The only good thing that came out of that night was that they knew to tell Mr. Weasley to search for a hidden cellar in the Malfoy's house.  
  
New Year’s usually was fun, but this year, it crushed Harry. He and Ginny were sitting at the Gryffindor table, enjoying an excellent dinner. During the past few days, she had been more alive; not as exhausted or upset, and more friendly to Harry. He was so grateful for her talking to him like she used to, that he didn't question her. At the New Year’s feast, she was quiet, but she sat with him and smiled at him for real. As the food vanished from the plates and puddings appeared, she leaned her head on her palm and gave him a strange look. He was about to reach for a dish of treacle tart, but stopped as she stared at him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I miss this,” she whispered. “I miss talking to you.”  
  
“I miss it too,” he said. “Why have you been so distant if you don't want to?”  
  
She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything. Her eyes, which had been their normal bright brown despite the dark circles beneath them a moment before, darkened for a second before going blank.  
  
“Never mind,” she said, looking away. He frowned; he tried to hear what she was thinking, but something prevented him from hearing her thoughts. A short burst of anger shot through Harry. He grabbed her arm, making her to look at him again.  
  
“Stop blocking me out!” he said. “Stop pushing me away!”  
  
She tugged her arm out of his grip, a glare growing on her face. “Leave me alone,” she snapped.  
  
“Ginny, I'm your best friend; why won't you tell me what's wrong?” Harry demanded. Ginny straightened in her seat, looking him in the eye.  
  
“A real best friend wouldn't nag me,” she said quietly.  
  
He slumped in his seat. “Are you saying you don't want me to be your best friend anymore?” he asked, and immediately regretted it. But he let the question stand. He needed to know; he couldn't just keep going through the vicious cycle anymore  
  
Ginny was silent a moment. Different things flashed through her eyes. He saw hurt and thought maybe she wasn't saying what he thought she was saying, but then it was replaced with anger and she clenched her jaw. Darkness and hurt fought in her eyes, battling fiercely; he reached out to take her hand, but she stood up quickly as the darkness won.  
  
“Yes,” Ginny said softly.  
  
Harry felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. His vision blurred as tears prickled at his eyes. He blinked them away quickly and stood too.  
  
“Fine,” he spat. He stood there a moment, his gaze locked with the girl he had thought he knew, before she turned away and walked quickly out of the Great Hall. He watched her go; this time, he didn't blink away the tears that spilled from his eyes. He glanced around, and left the hall just as quickly to hide his pain.  
  
The weather seemed to agree with him as January went on. The skies were dark before six in the evening, and the sun only half-heartedly attempted to melt the snow that had covered Hogwarts. Icy winds ripped at robes and carried away any loose clothing unless one took the precaution of staying inside. Harry and Ginny kept away from each other whenever possible, and when it wasn't possible they were anything but civil. January was gone soon, and February gave Harry a pounding headache.  
  
Lockhart had brought it upon himself to cheer up the school. Unfortunately, his definition of a pick-me-up was quite different from everyone else. On the morning of the fourteenth, Harry walked into the Great Hall and stopped in the doorway. The whole hall was draped in pink lace and heart shaped confetti. For a moment Harry wondered if he was dreaming, but then he remembered: Valentine's Day. Muttering a curse under his breath, he hurried to the Gryffindor table and grabbed some toast, giving a suddenly giggly Hermione a glare as he did so.  
  
The decorations weren't the worst of it, though. Lockhart had somehow gotten a dozen dwarfs to dress up as little cupids and run around the castle delivering valentines. Harry did his best to ignore them, but they were loud and obnoxious and insist on embarrassing everyone as much as they could. He thought about sending something along the lines of an olive branch to Ginny, but didn't in fear of her hexing him.  
  
Easter came and went. Ginny was growing more and more irritable, and Harry found himself breaking a bit more with each harsh word they traded. People started noticing that they weren't getting along anymore. Percy confronted him after dinner and told him to keep his personal affairs quiet and out of the way of student life. Harry almost punched him, since he didn't really know a good enough hex to express his anger, but didn't because it wasn't worth detention. Ron didn't really say much about their bitter exchanges, only giving Harry confused looks, but Hermione sat him down one evening and told him that he would just have to go and apologize for whatever he had done to annoy Ginny. Harry felt both angry, frustrated, and saddened. He told her everything that had happened, and while she still thought he ought to apologize, he did his best to make it clear that a simple “I'm sorry” would not fix their broken friendship.  
  
Exams loomed over them menacingly, and Hermione began drawing up study schedules for him and Ron. Ginny's voice in his mind was stubbornly quiet, and he guessed that she had closed off their connection. He tried to talk to her but after she forced him out for the tenth time, he gave up. She really did not want to be his friend anymore.  
  
And then Quidditch was canceled. Hermione and a Ravenclaw prefect had been attacked, and now lay in the hospital wing petrified. Madam Pomfrey closed off the Hospital Wing, security was increased, there was talk about closing the school, and Ginny still hated him. Ron and Harry went to go ask Hagrid about what Dobby had told him, but before they could get an answer, the Minister of Magic and Dumbledore showed up. Hagrid was arrested, Lucius Malfoy told Dumbledore that he had been suspended, and they were left with a very upset Fang. The only clue Hagrid could give them was “Follow the spiders,” which didn't really make sense but they followed a string of spiders into the Forbidden Forest anyway. Harry kept his wand lit, Ron kept his in his pocket since it was likely to explode in their faces if he tried to do anything with it, and they stepped into the dark woods with Fang.  
  
It was horribly quiet in the Forest. Harry's heart tried to make up for it by pounding in his ears. Ron was the color of parchment as they followed the spiders deeper into the trees. Half an hour into their walk, the trail of spiders moved off the path. Ron and Harry exchanged looks, and followed them. They ran into Mr. Weasley's car, and then into more spiders. Literally.  
  
Three, giant spiders stood over them. Ron froze with fear. The giant spiders took them to their nest, where they were dropped on the ground. The spiders flocked around them, and started clicking their pincers loudly. Harry heard a word in the din of clicking.  
  
“Aragog! Aragog!”  
  
The ground rumbled as another spider, larger than any he had yet seen, crawled out into view. Milky white eyes stared up at the sky, hairy gray legs feeling around as it moved towards them. Harry's heart beat faster as the old spider came closer.  
  
“What is it?” the old spider called. The spider had carried Harry clicked out a reply.  
  
“Men, Aragog!”  
  
“Is it Hagrid?” Aragog asked.  
  
“Strangers!” Ron's spider said.  
  
“Kill them,” Aragog said dispassionately.  
  
“We — we're friends of Hagrid!” Harry called out as the spiders crawled closer in. Ron whimpered by Harry.  
  
“Friends of Hagrid?” Aragog said. “Hagrid has never sent strangers into our hollow before. What are you doing here, friend of Hagrid?”  
  
“Hagrid's in trouble,” Harry said. “We came because he told us to come to you for answers.”  
  
“Answers to what?”  
  
“The Chamber of Secrets.”  
  
The old spider clicked its pincers angrily. “Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets! He had nothing to do with those attacks!”  
  
“We know he was!” Harry said quickly. “But the Chamber's been opened again, and more people have been attacked. We wanted to know who did it last time, since it wasn't him.”  
  
“I do not know,” Aragog rumbled. “I never saw anything of Hogwarts but for the box Hagrid kept me in. He released me into this forest when a girl was killed. He feared I would be discovered and blamed for the girl's death.”  
  
“Do you know what killed her?” Harry asked.  
  
Aragog shifted his weight nervously. “It is a dark creature, one we spiders fear above all others. We do not speak its name.”  
  
“Can't you tell us?” Harry begged. “Please!”  
  
“I never even told Hagrid what it was. I begged him to let me go when I felt it stirring in the school. He only did after the girl was killed.”  
  
“If we don't know what it is, we can't help Hagrid! He's been sent to prison and he could be there for the rest of his life or worse, unless we prove that it wasn't him!” Harry said. The sea of spiders around them pressed closer still. Their hairy bodies were trembling, either in desire for meat or fear of the monster Aragog was talking about.  
  
“I care deeply for Hagrid,” Aragog said. “He raised me from an egg. It is because of this that I will help you, friend of Hagrid. The monster is a Basilisk.”  
  
The spiders around Harry and Ron shuddered and scurried away from them. Aragog shifted nervously again, but stood his ground.  
  
“A Basilisk?” Harry repeated.  
  
“Yes; I won't say it again! A giant snake, armed with both poisonous fangs and a poisonous gaze. That is how it prefers to kill its victims, but looking them in the eye. Sometimes it doesn't work and the victim is petrified.”  
  
“Who did it kill?” Harry asked.  
  
“A girl, I don't know her name. But I know she died in a bathroom.”  
  
Harry glanced at Ron, who still looked terrified.  
  
“Thank you,” Harry said. “We'll go now.”  
  
The spiders inched forward again. Aragog clicked out something Harry couldn't understand, and the spiders retreated.  
  
“Go now. Help Hagrid. Perhaps if you run fast enough, my children won't catch you.”  
  
“Catch — catch us?” Harry said, his eyes widening.  
  
“They are hungry, and I cannot deny them fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst. I would rather you save Hagrid, but my children feel different. I suggest you run.”  
  
The other spiders pressed closer. Harry jumped up and tugged Ron up too. Fang trembled by Harry's side. The spiders clicking pincers pounded in Harry's ears, and Harry silently cursed Aragog for being so helpful in telling what they needed to know and then decided they weren't worth keeping alive. Ron spoke for the first time since the spiders got them: He swore very, very loudly.  
  
And then the roar of an engine broke the din of spiders rejoicing their new meal. Bright headlights split the sea of spiders, and Mr. Weasley's car skidded to a halt in the dirt before them. Ron swore again, Harry shoved him into the car and the car shot backwards, away from the spiders wailing and clicking their pincers too fast for Harry to catch what they were saying. The car left them at the edge of the forest; they left Fang at Hagrid's hut, and ran back up to the school. One thought kept Harry awake that night: The girl the Basilisk had killed. Aragog had told them that she had died in a bathroom. Harry kept thinking _What if she never left? What if she was still there, haunting the toilet?_ Moaning Myrtle's ghostly face swam before his eyes. What if it had been her?  
  
There was no chance to go and talk to Moaning Myrtle over the next few weeks, since students were required to be back in their common room before six and patrols in the corridors increased heavily. They were escorted everywhere by teachers, so they couldn't sneak off in between classes. Harry tried to get a chance to talk to Myrtle after Defense Against the Dark Arts one afternoon by getting rid of Lockhart, but just as soon as they got away, McGonagall caught them. Harry told her they had been trying to go see Hermione, which made McGonagall soften. She took them to the Hospital Wing and let them sit there for a few minutes before taking them to their next class.  
  
Harry took to haunting the library, looking for books that said anything about his and Ginny's connection. If she didn't want him in her mind anymore, then he was going to find a way to give her what she wanted. He pulled every book that mentioned mental links, mind reading, everything. He read about something called Occlumency, and figured that if he could not find a way to break their connection, they could use that to keep each other out. He spent so much time in the library, that Ron started claiming that he was channeling Hermione while she was petrified, except he wasn't doing schoolwork.  
  
One night in June, Harry was bent over a huge leather bound book, fighting to stay awake as the candles around him burned lower and lower and the clock by Madam Pince's desk ticked closer and closer to closing time. Rain pounding at the high windows behind him, dark storm clouds matching the turmoil fighting in Harry's mind. He listened carefully for Ginny's thoughts in his mind. She was ominously quiet. Even though she was blocking him out, he could normally still hear something on her side of his mind, but tonight she was silent. He valiantly tried to ignore the lack of noise on her side of his mind, to focus on the book before him, but his concentration kept slipping.  
  
_“... Occlumency was first discovered in 942 A.D.,”_ he read. _What is she doing?_ Harry shook his head to clear it and tried to focus on his reading again. _“The discovery of this branch of magic was prompted by Merlin's ability to 'read' the emotions and, occasionally, thoughts of his enemies.” Where is she?_ He let out a low groan and dropped his head onto the book. _This is hopeless!_ Harry thought, _I'm never going to find a way to break our connection. She'll just be stuck with me the rest of her life._ Harry stared bleakly at the page half an inch from his eyes. _I'll have to listen to her hating me for the rest of my life,_ he thought despairingly.  
  
Harry sat up quickly, staring at the page. Two words stood out against the rest of the page, in a small footnote at the bottom. _“Soul bonds”_ Harry's eyes scanned the page as quickly as he could process it, and then he shot out of his seat and walked as quickly as he could without drawing Madam Pince's ire to the section where he had found the book on Occlumency. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books before him, looking for _'Magic of Merlin's Age'_. He found it, and tugged it off the shelf. He started back towards his table, when the unpleasant figure of Madam Pince pounced on him.  
  
“The library is now closed,” she snapped.  
  
Harry was about to open his mouth to protest that it wasn't yet eight, but as he did, the chiming of her clock announced that it was indeed eight o'clock. He shut his mouth quickly.  
  
“Put that back,” Pince said, gesturing at the book in his hands.  
  
“Can't I check it out?”  
  
Her lips pursed, her harsh eyes displaying that she was considering it. “Very well, you may,” she said, and tugged the book out of his hands. He grabbed his bag as they passed his table. Madam Pince stamped the card on the inside of the book and shooed him out of the library. He walked back up to Gryffindor tower, gave the Fat Lady the password and chose an armchair by the fire to read. Most people were still out in the main castle, some still at dinner, so the common room was empty. He remembered as his stomach growled that he hadn't eaten dinner. Ignoring this, Harry cracked the book and started reading. He scanned the table of contents, passing over the lists of spells and potions. He found what he was looking for and flipped to the back of the book.  
  
_“Soul bonds are of the rarest branches of magic. It is for this reason that there is very little known about them, and what is known is mostly speculation. There are two types of bonds documented: One being a bond of true love, made at the marriage altar, the other being a bond of mind and soul, made typically when the bonded are of a young age. This soul bond occurs only when two already powerful souls find themselves in need of help from the other. However, this kind of bond should be impossible because at the time such bonds are created, the bonded are too young to control their magic and, in rare cases, the pair had not even met when the bond commenced.  
  
“There are dangers that come with being bonded to another as well as benefits. One such benefit is that the pair will be constantly aware of where the other is.”_ Harry let out a snort at this. He rarely knew where Ginny was these days. Maybe the book didn't have their kind of bond recorded. _“Not in the conventional way but that they would be aware of their proximity to the other. Another is that they would have a mental connection of sorts, able to sense the other's emotions. In a few cases, the pair was able to read the other's thoughts when touching.”_ Harry frowned. He and Ginny could always hear each other's thoughts, no matter where they were. At least they could until Ginny decided she didn't want to hear him anymore. _“Souls bonded in this way have great magical powers, advancing in skill faster than most their age. The reason for this is not known.”_ Harry strained to remember a time when he had been excelling at any kind of magic. Other than at flying, he came up blank. Ginny was great at Charms and Transfiguration, but he wasn't top in anything.  
  
_“Soul bonds are, however, nothing to be trifled with due to the dangers that can occur when one tries to create a soul bond where it is false or to break a soul bond where it is true.”_ Harry frowned harder at this. Did that mean that he would never be able to let Ginny go? _“If someone tries to break a soul bond, the results are explosive. One thing that has happened in the past is that the pair simply dies at any attempt to separate their bond. Another is that they become mentally unstable. There are many things that could and have happened, and none of them are pleasant.”_ Harry's spirits sank. There was no way to break their connection, not unless he wanted to kill himself. For a moment he considered that option, but the next sentence ended that as a possibility. _“In the event that only one of the pair dies, it would simply be kindest to kill the other because the repercussions of one dying are dangerous and painful, not just to the one still living but to those around him or her. Their magic would become unstable, as well as their mind.”_ Harry scrapped that idea then. He didn't want Ginny to go mad because he tried to break their connection. He stared down at the book half-heartedly. _Guess she's stuck with me whether she likes it or not,_ he thought dejectedly.  
  
“Harry!”  
  
Harry sat up quickly, looking around. There was no one in the common room apart from him. He glanced back down at the book in his lap, when he heard his name again. He glanced around the room, but there was still no one there.  
  
“Help!”  
  
The book went flying as he jumped to his feet. Ginny, he thought. He could hear her like she was standing next to him, but she wasn't there. No one was there.  
  
_Harry, help me!_  
  
He swore. He ran flat out from the common room, cursing himself for not realizing that he hadn't been hearing her call him, he had been hearing her thinking.  
  
_Where are you?_ He thought desperately.  
  
_Chamber …  
  
What?  
  
Moaning Myrtle. Parseltongue. Diary.  
  
What?_ Harry thought, even more confused. _Where are you?  
  
Help! Stop him!_  
  
A sudden image of a teenage boy flashed before his eyes, coldly handsome features twisted in sick laughter. He felt a rush of pain and shame from her, and stumbled as he ran.  
  
And then he didn't need her to tell him where she was. It clicked. He ran faster, pushing past a sudden throng of people going up the stairs. Vaguely he heard McGonagall's voice booming through the corridors, but he ignored her. Ginny was in the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
He turned a corner on the second floor and thudded to a halt. Ron stood in his way. Both boys fell over, and both swore loudly.  
  
“Ron!” Harry said, scrambling up. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Have you heard?” Ron said. “Someone's been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets by the heir of Slytherin!”  
  
“We have to find Ginny,” Harry said, starting past Ron. But Ron grabbed his arm and stopped him.  
  
“What's the matter?” Ron said, frowning. “She should be up in the common room with everyone else. I was going to tell Lockhart what we found out about the Chamber; he's supposed to go and rescue whoever's down there.”  
  
“Forget Lockhart, he's useless! Ginny's the one down there!”  
  
Ron turned white. “Wha-what? How do you know?”  
  
“There's no time to explain, I have to go rescue her!”  
  
“Harry, you can't go running off half-cocked! We need help, okay?”  
  
“There's no —”  
  
“Yes, there is. We'll get Lockhart. He's not totally useless.”  
  
Ron started dragging Harry away from Myrtle's bathroom, towards Lockhart's office. Harry glanced down the hall to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom door, groaned, and ran to Lockhart's office with Ron.  
  
They pounded on the door. It cracked open, showing a sliver of Lockhart's face.  
  
“Ah, Harry,” he said, his eyes darting around. “Now isn't the best time —”  
  
“My sister's in danger, Professor, you've got to help her!” Ron said.  
  
“Erm, yes, about that — urgent business, can't avoid it, I am sorry, but —”  
  
“But you're the Defense teacher! You're supposed to help with stuff like this!”  
  
“Well, it is regrettable, yes, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do,” Lockhart said.  
  
“But what about that stuff you talk about in your books? About chivalry and all that?” Harry questioned.  
  
“Uh, books can be misleading,” Lockhart said with a nervous laugh.  
  
“But you wrote them!” Harry and Ron shouted together.  
  
Lockhart threw up his hands, knocking the door open. Two open trunks sat in the room, which looked half stripped of its contents. “Harry, I am misleading! I didn't do any of that stuff, and I don't plan on risking my neck for some silly little girl.”  
  
Harry's wand was drawn and nearly shoved up Lockhart's nose before Ron could even form a look of anger. Lockhart's face turned paper white, his eyes crossing as he tried to keep the tip of Harry's wand in sight.  
  
“You're a coward!” Harry spat. “Ginny is in serious danger, there's someone down there with her and he's hurting her! If you don't save her, I will!”  
  
“Harry, calm down!” Lockhart said in a squeaky voice. “You can't save her, you're just a kid. No one can. She's gone. Nothing you or I can —”  
  
“I can save her!” Harry shouted. “And I will. And then I'll tell Dumbledore that you're a fraud.”  
  
“Oh, dear,” Lockhart said. “No, I'm afraid I can't let you do that.”  
  
“Watch me,” Harry snarled. He turned towards Ron, ready to storm from the office and find Ginny, but Lockhart was determined.  
  
The professor drew his wand and aimed it at Harry's back. Ron grabbed Harry's arm to warn him, as Lockhart shouted “Obliviate!”  
  
The blue light of Lockhart's spell shot from his wand and flew through the air towards Harry. Harry jumped around, and flung out a hand. The spell collided with Harry's palm.  
  
Lockhart smiled maliciously for a moment, but his eyes widened in horror as Harry closed his fist around the fading light, and flung it away from him. The spell intensified in color and enveloped Lockhart.  
  
Lockhart's eyes drifted out of focus, and he fell to the ground.  
  
Ron and Harry stared at Lockhart, stunned.  
  
“H-Harry?” Ron said in a higher voice than normal. “Are you — Do you know who you are?”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry said, frowning at Ron. “Why wouldn't I?”  
  
“That was a memory spell,” Ron said. “It should have wiped your memory.”  
  
Harry glanced at Lockhart and then at the door. “We can worry about that later, Ginny needs our help.”  
  
Ron poked Lockhart with his toe. The man grunted. “Well, he's not dead,” Ron said. Harry glanced at him again, then grabbed Ron's arm and tugged him out of the office.  
  
The two boys ran down the corridors and skidded to a halt in front of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Harry pushed open the door and led Ron in.  
  
“Why are we in here?” Ron asked.  
  
“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is here,” Harry said.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“Because Ginny knows,” Harry said quietly. He stepped in front of one of the sinks and glanced over it. On the faucet, there was a small carving of a snake.  
  
“How do we get in?”  
  
Harry stepped back. He focused on Ginny, his eyes shut tight.  
  
_How do I get to you?_  
  
Flashes of ghost pain shot through him. He winced as pain seared into his left arm. He focused harder, his fists clenching as he pressed into Ginny's mind.  
  
_Parseltongue,_ her voice said.  
  
He opened his eyes and his mouth.  
  
“Open,” he said. Ron jumped as the word left his mouth.  
  
Silence. All was still for a moment. And then a low rumbling sounded, and the sink in front of them slid backward. Harry peered into the hole beneath the sink; a long tunnel, leading out of sight.  
  
“Let's go,” Harry said. Ron let out a sound akin to a whimper. Harry ignored him, and jumped.  
  
The tunnel walls were slimy and cold. Harry slid over rough stone in darkness. Ron's yelp and string of expletives told him that his friend had followed. Abruptly, the tunnel ended and he dropped onto a carpet of hard, pokey things. He winced as he stood up. Ron came shooting out of the tunnel, still swearing. Harry helped him up, and pulled him down a passage, lighting his wand as he did. They moved slowly, carefully, wary of the monster that waited for them.  
  
The turned a corner, and both boys dropped to the ground. Harry poked his head up, squinting through his eyelashes at the thing before them. It was a husk of snake skin. Long and wide enough for him to stand in, the snake skin glistened in the light of Harry's wand.  
  
“Come on,” Harry whispered to Ron, standing shakily. Ron held his wand at the ready, despite the Spellotape and the fact that his hand was trembling just as much as Harry was. They stepped forward, edging around the skin.  
  
And then several things happened at once. A long, terrible scream tore at Harry's ear drums and stopped his heart. Ron tripped over a loose rock as he darted ahead and crashed into the skin. Harry ran forward, sparks flying from his wand, towards the end of the passage, where the scream was still coming.  
  
“Ginny!” Harry yelled. A blast of light shot from his wand and flew randomly upwards. It hit the ceiling, and Harry froze as the passage groaned. Rocks tumbled from the ceiling; Harry flung himself farther down the passage as Ron ran in the other direction. When he turned back, a pile of rocks blocked the tunnel.  
  
“Ron, are you okay?” Harry yelled.  
  
“Yeah,” came Ron's muffled voice. “Go get Ginny! I'll try and clear the rocks!”  
  
Harry didn't need telling twice. He turned, and ran. The scream had stopped during the cave-in, but Harry's blood was still running cold. His thoughts focused on one thing: Finding Ginny.  
  
The passage opened up into a huge cavern. Ghostly green light flickered across the wet stone, reflected in the water surrounding the stone path. Harry glanced around, and his eyes found her.  
  
“Ginny!” he cried, half in relief, half in horror. He ran to her side; she lay on the ground at the feet of a huge statue. Harry dropped his wand, and fell to his knees beside her. Her eyes were closed, and her chest was still. Her right hand was clasped over the little black diary. Bruises covered her arms, her left arm was flung out beside her, and her sleeve was bloody. “Wake up, please! Wake up!” Harry grabbed her left wrist, feeling for a pulse. As he did, her sleeve fell away, and his stomach turned over. The skin of her upper arm was torn up, long gashes forming a word. _Worthless._ He fell back, his eyes wide with horror.  
  
“She won't wake.”  
  
Harry turned around with a gasp, to see a teenage boy standing behind him, twirling a wand between his fingers. But he wasn't really there. His outline was blurred, and the lines that formed his body were imprecise.  
  
“Who are you?” Harry said.  
  
“My name is Tom Riddle.”  
  
“What do you mean she won't wake?” Harry asked, glancing down at Ginny. A sudden feeling of even worse panic filled him. “She's not — She isn't —”  
  
“She's still alive,” said Tom Riddle, “but just barely.”  
  
Harry slipped his arms under her back, trying to lift her up. “Please, Tom, you've got to help me!” he said as his arms and legs trembled under Ginny's limp weight.  
  
Tom just smiled. “There's no point,” he said. “You see, as little Ginny grows weaker, I grow stronger.”  
  
Harry found that his scrawny form couldn't hold her up any longer, and he collapsed onto the ground. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Little Ginny Weasley has been writing in my diary for almost a year now,” Tom said. “She poured her heart and soul into me, and after a while, I started pouring a bit back into her. I was able to take over her body, make her do things that she didn't want to do. She opened the Chamber, and petrified those students and the caretaker's cat. I forced her to write that message on the wall. I made her open the Chamber and attack the Mudbloods.”  
  
“No,” Harry whispered. “She — she wouldn't —”  
  
Tom let out a cold, unfeeling laugh. “She fought me, of course. She didn't want to do it, but I had control of her. She could not resist me.”  
  
“But — but what are you doing to her?”  
  
“I am feeding off her energy, and once I finish, I will be strong again.”  
  
“But you'll kill her!”  
  
“Yes, I know that.”  
  
“No!” Harry said, shooting to his feet. “I won't let you!”  
  
Tom Riddle laughed his cold laugh. Harry noticed with a jolt that the wand in Tom's hand was his. “You won't let me? You? A twelve year old boy with no remarkable talent, stop me, the greatest wizard of all time?”  
  
“Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of all time!”  
  
Tom's blurry face twisted with anger. “Dumbledore has been driven out by the mere memory of me! Me, the one to become the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort!”  
  
“You're — you're Voldemort?”  
  
“I am!” Tom boasted. He raised Harry's wand, and drew in the air three words, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He gave the wand a flick, and the letters rearranged themselves to say 'I am Lord Voldemort'. A stone dropped in Harry's stomach. Tom's lips twisted in a sick smile. “I have many questions for you, Harry Potter. Ginny told me you supposedly defeated me, but she did not know how. So, how is that a baby managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?”  
  
“I told you,” Harry said, his hands shaking, “Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of all time.”  
  
Tom's face became less handsome as anger moved his features. He opened his mouth to retort, but he froze. Music had filled the cavernous Chamber. Both Harry and Tom started, looking around to see where it was coming from. It was unnatural, eerie, but it filled Harry with a sense of hope, and from the look on Tom's face, it filled him with fear.  
  
The music swelled, its unearthly sound echoing through the Chamber, and as it reached a peak, a burst of flame appeared above their heads. A bird formed in the flames, fluttering on its red feathered wings, and clutching a ragged bit of cloth in its glinting talons. The bird flew down, dropped the ragged cloth at Harry's feet, and landed on his shoulder.  
  
“Fawkes?” Harry breathed. The bird's talons squeezed his shoulders briefly. Harry bent and picked up the ragged cloth, and shook it out. It was the Sorting Hat. Tom laughed, putting on a brave face, but Harry saw in his eyes that the fear the song had inspired in him still lingered.  
  
“So this is what Dumbledore sends his great defender!” Tom laughed, sneering at Harry and Fawkes. “A songbird and an old hat.”  
  
Harry felt a twinge of disappointment, along with a boatload of fear. How was a hat going to help him?  
  
“Poor Ginny,” Tom said, clucking his tongue, “she was so certain that great, brave Harry Potter was going to come and rescue her.”  
  
And then, anger surged in Harry. His hands shook as he held the hat, the edges of his vision tinted red, and the little stones and pebbles along the stone floor began to vibrate. Tom suddenly looked alarmed, but he quickly masked it. Fawkes' talons dug into his shoulder as the great bird flapped its wings and took off into the air.  
  
“You can talk all you want, but there's no way I'll just stand by and let you kill Ginny! I'll die first!” Harry shouted.  
  
“Harry, Harry,” Tom sighed. “You make an offer I cannot refuse.”  
  
Harry frowned., then his eyes widened in fear and realization.  
  
Tom was striding up to the statue, and then he was speaking in Parseltongue at it. Harry remembered with horror what creature was supposed to be in the Chamber. A Basilisk.  
  
The great snake slithered out of the statue's mouth. Harry was forced to run from Ginny, whose closed eyes would protect her from it, to hide. Tom ordered the snake to kill him. Harry ducked behind a pillar, when he heard an animal's cry of pain. Through his eyelashes, he peeked around the pillar to see the great snake swinging its head through the air, droplets of blood falling like tears to the ground. Fawkes was flying around the snake's head, dodging the Basilisk's fangs. Harry watched in horrified fascination as the phoenix dived towards the snake's head. It let out a roar of pain, and its head turned towards Harry. Before Harry could close his eyes, the Basilisk's gaze landed on Harry's.  
  
Its eyes were crying blood. Both yellow eyes had been popped. It was blind.  
  
Harry felt a surge of affection for the phoenix. And then he was fighting again. Tom hissed at the snake to smell him out, and as it slashed its tail in frustration, something soft was swept into Harry's arms. The Sorting Hat. Harry tugged it on, thinking that it was his last, desperate chance, and begged it for help.  
  
Nothing happened. Harry thought that his last hope had been squandered, but then, the hat twisted, squeezing as though an invisible someone was contracting it, and something heavy and hard thudded onto his head. Stars winked in front of his eyes, and he gripped the hat. Something hard and slim was in it. He pulled it off, to reveal a gleaming silver sword.  
  
The Basilisk was still lunging at the walls, blindly trying to catch him. Harry looked between the sword and the blind snake, and tossed the hat aside, his mind made up. He could either die, and Ginny would too, or he could kill the stupid snake and save his best friend.  
  
Harry charged the Basilisk, yelling to make sure the snake knew where he stood. As the snake turned towards him, and lunged, Harry threw his weight behind the sword, and drove it through the roof of the snake's mouth.  
  
But even as the snake writhed and screamed in agony, hot pain spread over Harry's arm. He ignored it, anger and adrenaline holding him up despite his fear. He twisted the blade out, and the snake fell to the ground with a crashing thud.  
  
When it fell, a single fang broke away from the snake's jaw. Harry looked down in horror and shock at the fang protruding from his arm.  
  
Tom was staring at him in shock too, his gaze flitting from the snake to Harry, as Harry stumbled forward and fell to his knees by Ginny.  
  
“Well,” Tom said, evidently trying to remain calm, “this doesn't matter. You're dead anyway. You'll be dead in minutes.”  
  
Harry knew this. He grasped the fang, and pulled it out of his arm. It glistened with blood and poison. It fell from his numb fingers and clattered to the ground. The red at the edges of his vision turned to black spots. Tom's face showed both triumph and shock now.  
  
“So ends Harry Potter,” he said with a sneer. “Alone and afraid, at the hands of the very person he supposedly defeated.”  
  
Harry looked up at Tom, not afraid but sad. He wasn't afraid, but he was alone; even though his best friend lay beside him, he was alone. Ginny didn't want to be his friend anymore anyway. She wouldn't really care if he died, only that her life would be unstable because of it.  
  
His eyes moved to Ginny, to the diary in her hands. He suddenly knew why she had been vanishing from his mind. She had been possessed. Tom had stolen her from him. It was all because of that diary.  
  
He grabbed it, and laid it on the ground in front of him.  
  
“What are you doing?” Tom asked as Harry picked up the fang again. Harry looked back up at Tom, the fang held over the diary. Tom's outline was still blurred. He had not claimed Ginny's life yet.  
  
“I'm saving Ginny,” he said, and stabbed the diary.  
  
Ink poured from the pages like blood. Tom screamed, his face twisted in ugly pain and anger. Harry pushed the fang clear through the leather cover and the pages. Tom fell to his knees, clutching his head, screaming in pain. And then, he was gone.  
  
Beside Harry, Ginny drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes opened, she sat up slowly, and her eyes locked on Harry's.  
  
“Ginny …” Harry breathed, barely noticing Fawkes landing beside them. Ginny's eyes took in the bloody sword, the Basilisk's body, the diary, the fang, and finally his bloody and numb arm.  
  
Her eyes widened and her lower lip trembled. She stretched out a shaking hand and touched his arm, her cold fingers brushed over his wound.  
  
“Ha-Harry?” her voice came out soft and scared. “Wha-what happened?”  
  
“I killed the Basilisk,” he said. “But it got me.”  
  
Ginny's eyes filled with tears. Her hand now bloody, she threw her arms around his neck and broke down in sobs. “It was me!” she cried. “I opened the Chamber, but I swear, I swear! I did-didn't mean to! T-Tom made me! Oh, Harry, I hated being alone! I c-couldn't hear you half the time and Tom s-said you would hate me be-because I was the one attacking everyone and he said I ha-had to ignore you and be mean — and I hated it! Oh, Harry, I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! And — and now you're hurt and it's my fault!”  
  
Harry awkwardly patted her back, even though the numbness was spreading through him. “It wasn't your fault,” he said, “it was Riddle's fault.”  
  
Ginny only cried harder. Her tears soaked the shoulder of his robes. Harry held her tightly to him, his uninjured arm trembling and the other lying limply by his side. Fawkes laid his head on Harry's arms, and Harry saw that Fawkes was crying too. The bird's tears mixed with Ginny's, running down his arm.  
  
Harry let out a gasp. His arm suddenly started stinging. Ginny sat up at his gasp and looked down at his arm, tears still falling from her eyes. Harry watched one of her tears splash right into the center of the gash, but as he watched more tears fall, his arm stopped hurting. The stinging stopped, and the wound started to heal. Both he and Ginny watched in stunned silence as skin regrew over his arm, and the wound disappeared, leaving only a white scar.  
  
Amazed, Harry lifted his arm and ran a finger over the scar.  
  
“How?” Ginny breathed, her eyes wider than before.  
  
“I have no idea,” Harry murmured. Fawkes trilled, lifting both Harry and Ginny's spirits. Harry glanced between Fawkes and Ginny, still stunned.  
  
“Wait a second,” Harry said, “Fawkes is a phoenix. Dumbledore said that phoenixes have all sorts of powers.”  
  
“Like healing tears,” Ginny said, nodding.  
  
Fawkes blinked up at them, then trilled again. Harry ran a hand down Fawkes' feathers. The bird cocked its head and pressed its head into Harry's hand.  
  
“Thank you, Fawkes,” Harry whispered. The bird let out a trill, and hopped over to Ginny's side. Harry glanced back over her, and his stomach twisted again as his eyes fell on her arm. She glanced down at it, and her face drained of blood.  
  
“What happened to you?” Harry asked. “What did he do to you?”  
  
Ginny's eyes stayed on her arm. Harry reached forward and cupped her cheek in his palm, tilting her face up at him. Ginny's wide eyes told him she didn't want to tell him.  
  
“What did he do?” he repeated forcefully. She swallowed anxiously; her eyes refused to meet his. Harry touched a finger to her arm; blood still oozed from the wound, running down her arm and dripping to the floor. Ginny winced and he pulled his finger back quickly.  
  
_He beat me, Harry._  
  
Harry's jaw clenched with anger. “Did he — did he touch you?”  
  
Ginny's face flushed pink, though she was still pale. “No, not like that.”  
  
“How did he cut your arm?”  
  
Ginny's eyes fell to the ground. “My wand. He took it and used it to hurt me.”  
  
Harry glanced around, and saw his wand lying next to hers. He reached over and grabbed them. Ginny took hers from his hand, twisting between her fingers. Harry glanced over at Fawkes, then at her arm.  
  
“Could you heal her too?” he asked quietly. Fawkes blinked up at him and trilled. He hopped closer, and rested his head against her arm. Ginny let out a little gasp of pain as fat tears slipped from the phoenix's eyes, mixing with her blood and dripping down her arm. Slowly, the bruises faded, the blood stopped oozing, and the cut sealed itself, leaving behind the word in a scar. Fawkes shook a few more pearly tears onto her arm, but the scar stayed stubbornly white against her skin. Ginny looked down at her arm, her face a mix of emotions, and then smiled gratefully at the bird. Harry patted Fawkes' head, and he trilled warmly.  
  
Harry picked up the diary, the hat, and the sword, helped Ginny to her feet. She was shaky; and had to lean on him, but he lent her all the strength he had and the two of them, with Fawkes, left the Chamber. They found Ron clearing a hole in the cave-in. Ron grabbed Ginny in a hug the second he saw her, his face split in a joyful grin, and Fawkes carried them up the passage back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Fawkes then led them to McGonagall's office, where Dumbledore and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting.  
  
McGonagall took Ginny and her parents to the Hospital Wing, Mrs. Weasley exclaiming loudly and tearfully about how she was going to murder whoever scarred her little girl. Ron went to owl Azkaban, and Dumbledore kept Harry back to explain about the sword. Harry was stunned to realize that it was the Sword of Gryffindor, but Dumbledore did not seem surprised. Dumbledore then thanked Harry for what he had done, and explained why his arm had been healed when Fawkes cried on it; Harry and Ginny's guess had been right. They then were surprised by Lucius Malfoy, who was enraged that Dumbledore was had dared return to the school. And yet another surprise came in the form of the small creature who was bobbing around Mr. Malfoy's feet. Dobby gave Harry the final clue about the diary, and then Harry returned the favor by tricking Malfoy into freeing Dobby. Harry sat with Ginny at the celebratory feast that night, and they sat together on the train back home.  
  
Aunt Petunia and Thea were waiting for Harry when they arrived on the platform, and Aunt Petunia startled everyone when she wrapped Harry in a tight hug. Harry hugged Ginny good-bye, and promised to visit her the next day. Even though she was still in his mind and he would see her the next morning, Harry felt a definite sense of sadness when Ginny's family climbed into a rented car and drove away.  
  
It seemed that Harry's adventure in the Chamber of Secrets had reached his aunt and grandmother, because the instant the Weasleys were out of hearing range, Aunt Petunia started harping on Harry for risking his life and not letting an adult handle the situation. Harry was too surprised by this sudden show of care for him to tell her that he had tried to let an adult handle it, but the adult had ended up wiping his own memory in an attempt to get out of saving Ginny. Thea said he had been both brave and foolish, and then they took him to lunch before going home. Dudley was still at school apparently, so Harry had three extra days without his annoying cousin. He still got to see Ginny every day, and sometimes he spent the night at her house with Ron, but every time he left her, he felt sad, and the old worry that had come about while she was writing in Riddle's diary would return, even if in a vague form.  


HGHGHGHGHGHGHGH GHG

  
  
One blisteringly hot night in late June, while Harry was at his grandmother's house, Fate appeared by Thea Evans' chicken coop, with Chaos and Night, but this time with a cat by her side. The cat's tabby fur almost glowed in the dark, sleek shades of red and purple, an unnatural color for a cat. The cat was just as large as the wolf, and its eyes gleamed an angry red. Night was perched on the cat's back, and the crow was seeming to enjoy irritating the cat. Night was steadfastly ignoring both the cat and Chaos.   
  
Fate leaned heavily on her staff. The moon high above them set her black cloak glimmering. Her eyes were heavy with all her knowledge and having to deal with her squabbling companions. Night was pecking at the cat's head, poking her with his talons and squawking in her ear.  
  
Just then, the cat seemed to be fed up with Chaos. Her claws flashed out and Chaos let out a croaky squawk, launching from her back to Fate's staff.  
  
The cat bared its teeth at Chaos. Night fluffed his feathers at her. Night growled at Chaos, the cat hissed, and Fate pressed the hand not holding her staff over her eyes wearily.  
  
“Chaos,” Fate said softly, “leave her alone.”  
  
“What?” Chaos crowed. “I'm only being friendly.”  
  
Night bared his teeth at Chaos. Chaos flapped his wings and crowed mockingly. The cat pawed the ground with gleaming claws.  
  
“You are being childish,” Fate snapped at the crow. “Apologize.”  
  
Chaos let out a bird's version of a huff.  
  
The cat flicked her tail angrily. Night’s hackles were raised. Fate glared at Chaos, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Fine!” Chaos croaked. “I apologize.”  
  
The cat gave a final flick of her tail, and turned her back on the crow. Night nudged her flank with his shoulder, and the cat shot him an appreciative look.  
  
“Oh, stop it!” Night squawked. “It's bad enough you two don't get off each other when we're normal, but it's freaky when you do it in animal form!”  
  
“Let them be,” Fate snapped. “Or I'll put you in a cage.”  
  
Chaos huffed again. Fate sighed. She conjured a chair with a wave of her hand, and lowered her ancient bones into it. Chaos fluttered to the top of her chair, Fate lay her staff across her knees, and the cat and wolf lay down at her feet. Fate rested her head on the back of her chair, and whispered spells beneath her breath. A millisecond later, her mind was connected to Harry and Ginny's.  
  
She found herself in the middle of a nightmare. The fuzzy figure of Tom Riddle was bent over Ginny, laughing as he touched her and as Ginny begged him to leave her alone. Harry was standing a few feet away, shouting at Riddle, but Riddle was ignoring him. Harry was trying to get to Ginny, but something was holding him back. Ginny was crying. Fate pressed a hand to her mouth. No child should have to experience such sick things, but Fate knew that without this experience, Ginny would not have the strength to carry out her duty in the coming storm.  
  
But to relive it in her dreams was too much. Fate waved a hand, and the nightmare faded. The Chamber was gone, and the two children were in the oasis Fate had first spoken to them in.  
  
Harry had still been fighting against whatever had been holding him away from Ginny when Fate relieved them of their nightmare, and he fell forward when there was suddenly nothing holding him back. He staggered forward, and caught himself before he fell flat on his face. Ginny stopped crying, and looked around. Harry grabbed her hands and pulled the trembling girl to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her, and looked around as well.  
  
“Who's there?” Harry called. Fate made sure that she was as invisible and non-present as she could be without actually leaving. She needed to watch them.  
  
But, as they had been before, her efforts were in vain. Harry spotted her at once, and raised a hand.  
  
A group of animals burst from the forest behind her, and darted around her, growling and snarling. Fate was stunned to see lions, griffins, manticores, hippogriffs, and even a small dragon; all circling her.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Harry demanded. Fate was shell-shocked, but she retained her power of speech.  
  
“I came to observe,” she said. “As I have done in the past.”  
  
Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “I remember you,” he said. “You visited us two years ago.”  
  
“And, like then, I did not intend to speak to you.”  
  
“Why did you want to watch us?” Ginny asked, her voice soft and shaky, but her eyes flashed with indignation.  
  
“I cannot say.”  
  
“Can't or won't?”  
  
“Will not,” Fate said. “I apologize, but you must discover it on your own.”  
  
Harry scowled. “Why?”  
  
“I cannot say.”  
  
Both of them groaned. “Can't you tell us anything?”  
  
Fate paused, thinking. “You are stronger than we thought,” she said. “Especially your bond.”  
  
“What's our bond supposed to be?” Ginny said.  
  
Fate bowed herself out. Next time, she would have to take even greater precautions to avoid being noticed.  
  
“Well?” Chaos crowed in her ear. Fate winced. The cat at her feet batted a paw at the crow, making him fly out of her reach.  
  
“You were incorrect, as always, Chaos,” Fate said.  
  
“Then I was right,” said the cat in a low, purring voice.  
  
“Yes, you were,” Fate sighed. Chaos fluffed his tail feathers at them. Fate glared up at the crow, and flicked a finger at him. With a squawk, Chaos vanished.  
  
“Where did you send him?” said Night. His voice was deep, rhythmic, enchanting.  
  
“Back,” Fate replied simply. “We will join him soon.”  
  
“Why not now?” the cat asked.  
  
Fate lay her head back on the chair. “I want silence for a moment,” she said. The cat's eyes gleamed with mirth, though still an angry mirth. Night settled his head on his paws, and stared up at the sky.  
  
There was one thing she could have mentioned to Harry and Ginny, and Fate did not know why she had kept it from them. When Harry's arm had been pierced with the poisonous fang, he had been doomed to die. And then, against the odds he survived. Dumbledore and the pair of youths had thought it had been Fawkes' tears that had saved him, but that wasn't entirely true.  
  
Phoenix tears alone are not enough to cure Basilisk venom, at least not the amount of venom that Harry had taken on. But when combined with the magic of a powerful bond, they can heal anything. Fawkes had not been the only one crying.  
  
Ginny's tears had healed Harry, not Fawkes. Fate just wished she knew how.


	9. The Prisoner of Azkaban Rewritten, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Note that I found the idea that Ginny had Tom Riddle's memories from Brennus' story, the Thorny Rose.

****

**Nine: The Prisoner of Azkaban Rewritten, Part One  
  
Winner Winners, Snuffles, and Valentine's  
  
Ginny**

  
  
That summer was blistering. Ginny wondered if the weather was trying to make up for the overly cold winter, yet she spent as much time as she could outside, and Harry would spend as much time as he could with her and Ron. They swam in the pond, climbed trees, played Quidditch in the orchard, or just watched clouds. One night they stayed out to watch the stars, and fell asleep beneath the night sky. When Ginny woke up, the sun was rising and she lay tucked in Harry's arms. He was still asleep and did not see her blush. She slipped out of his arms as gently as she could, and fell back asleep a foot away. When Mum came for them, Ginny woke up with her fingers entwined in his. She didn't say it, but she was glad for his presence beside her as she slept. It kept away nightmares.  
  
The memory of the Chamber was burning brightly in her mind still. Every now and then, she felt phantom pains in her arm, where Tom had used her wand to carve Worthless into her skin. All of her scars had healed but for the faint word, and the scar on her soul. She had been possessed and tortured, and she knew it would haunt her to her dying day.  
  
That wasn't the only thing bothering her. As she moved slowly on from what had happened, thoughts and memories that she swore weren't hers, nor Harry's, popped up in her mind. At first, it didn't bother her so much as it was just spells and vague recollections of years at Hogwarts. But then the dam broke.  
  
While Ginny was in her room, working on summer homework, whatever was keeping those thoughts and memories from flooding her brain exploded. She found herself on her knees, pressing her hands over her head as sharp blinding pain moved through her head, followed by flashes of things she had never seen, never done, people she had never met nor heard of but hated with a burning passion.  
  
An hour later the pain had died away, and Ginny sat with her back to the frame of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Fear and hate and anger warred in her, while memories replayed themselves randomly, overlapping each other. She could see bodies twisted in pain, heard the screams of victims long gone, felt power and an almost sexual pleasure in seeing them in such pain. It horrified her. She sat huddled in the shadow of her bed, trying to block out the memories and thoughts, but they refused to die away. Horror kept her frozen where she sat, staring ahead into space while screams and laughter echoed in her ears.  
  
There was a knock on the door. Rage flashed through her, an alien feeling of anger at being disrupted by whoever was at the door. But the outside stimuli broke the cycle, and the images and sounds faded to the back of her mind. Quickly, she schooled her features into a plain expression, and called "Come in."  
  
The door opened. Harry stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked immediately.  
  
"Fine," she lied quickly. "Why?"  
  
"You're not fine," Harry said, crossing the room and sitting down beside her. "I felt it. What happened?"  
  
"Nothing," she said, averting her gaze.  
  
"Ginny," Harry groaned, "I quote you "I'm in your head." What's wrong?"  
  
She pulled her knees in closer and rested her chin between them. Now that Harry was there, the visions were less vivid, still present but faint.  
  
_I don't know,_  she thought.  
  
_Show me.  
  
I can't, it's horrible.  
  
It's all right, whatever it is it's probably not real.  
  
Probably?  
  
Trust me,_  Harry thought, giving her a small smile.  
  
Ginny let out a sigh, and closed her eyes. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, lending her silent support. And they were back.  
  
Some small girl was lying on a stone floor, twisting and writhing, screaming in pain. Ginny saw from the eyes of someone taller than she, holding the wand that was hurting the girl and laughing cruelly. Flashes of satisfaction and sick pleasure battled with rage and her own fear.  
  
And then it was gone. She opened her eyes to find her face buried in Harry's shirt, her body trembling and Harry's arms locked around her.  
  
"That's not real," he whispered. "It's a hallucination or something."  
  
"It feels real," she mumbled.  
  
"It isn't," Harry insisted.  
  
"What if it is?" Ginny said. "What if Tom turned me bad?"  
  
Harry cupped her chin and stared into her eyes. "You are the most amazing, kind, and brilliant girl I have ever met. If a memory of someone could flip your morals, then the Chudley Cannons can win the World Cup."  
  
That brought a hesitant smile to her face. Harry looked pleased with himself, and he let her sit back against the frame of the bed.  
  
"Do you want to talk to Dumbledore about this?" Harry asked a moment later, with a more somber expression.  
  
Ginny was silent for a minute. Dumbledore could help explain to her what she was experiencing, but did she want to share? This was something horrible, and one doesn't go telling powerful figures that one's mind has been invaded by the memories of a monster.  
  
"I don't know," she said. "I definitely don't want to tell anyone in my family — I might tell Ron but that's only because he's my twin."  
  
"I'm not saying you have to," Harry said. "But this is serious: What if they become sentient and try to possess you again? I don't want you to go through what happened to you last year again, and I don't want to lose you."  
  
"I know," she said, folding her arms over her knees and resting her chin on them. "I'm just worried."  
  
Harry put his arm around her again and gave her a gentle squeeze. "I know you are. This freaky stuff."  
  
"Can we wait until school so if I do decide to tell him, my parents don't suspect anything?"  
  
"If you want to," Harry said.  
  
Ginny glanced at him. There was a small spark of confusion in his thoughts. "You want to know why I don't want Mum and Dad to know?"  
  
"Kind of."  
  
"I don't want them babying me anymore than they already are," she said. "They always treated me like I was a little kid because I'm the youngest, but since — since the end of school they've been walking on eggshells around me. It's frustrating to no end, and if they knew about this they'd be worse."  
  
Harry nodded slowly; she could tell he understood and was accepting her decision. This was one of the qualities she liked best about him: He trusted her judgment no matter what.  
  
"You ready to go have dinner?" he asked.  
  
"Sure," she said. Harry stood up and offered her a hand up. She took it, and — upon impulse — gave him a swift hug. "Thank you, Harry," she said as she pulled back.  
  
"For what?" he said. She was pleased to notice that his cheeks were quite pink.  
  
"Just being you," said Ginny gratefully. Harry beamed.  
  
That night at the dinner table, Dad told Mum about how he bought a lottery ticket from one of his friends in the Finances Department in the Ministry. Mum was skeptical, but since he'd bought it second hand for less than the regular price, she couldn't complain.  
  
"Shall we see who won?" Dad called out as the family plus one tucked into treacle tart. Winners of the Daily Prophet draw were usually announced in the paper, but this was the Grand Prize Draw so the winning numbers were announced on the official Daily Prophet radio station, the Nightly Sooth-sayer. Dad stood up and crossed to the radio, and twiddled the dial. Celestina Warbeck warbled for a moment as the radio woke up, but then Dad switched the station and a male voice spoke.  
  
"...Hollyhead Harpies beat the Wimborn Wasps 430 to 420. Captain and Lead Chaser Gwenog Jones will be coming for a chat next Saturday about the stressful and exhilarating match at eight. And now for the winning numbers of the Daily Prophet Semi-Grand Prize. Hold onto your seats, witches and warlocks." A drum-roll issued from speakers; Dad held up his ticket in one hand and crossed the fingers on the other. "7," the announcer read, "9... 0... 6... 9... 0... 5... 3... 3... and the last one is... 2. 7906905332! Congratulations, whoever's got those numbers, you've won 5000 galleons!"  
  
"Is that your number, Arthur?" Mum asked gently.  
  
Dad glanced at his ticket. "No. But they're going to announce the Grand Prize in a minute, be patient."  
  
Mum rolled her eyes. Ginny stifled a snigger.  
  
"And now the Grand Prize. Starting with 2... another 2... 7... 1... 6... 7... 3... 9... 0... 5. That's 2271673905, witches and warlocks. Congrats whoever has that number, because you just won 7000 galleons!"  
  
"Well?" Mum said. Dad was staring down at his ticket, an expression of shock on his face. "What's your number?"  
  
"2271673905," Dad mumbled. "That's the winning number."  
  
"See, I told you, the lottery is a tax on fools," Mum said.  
  
"No, Molly, my number is 2271673905," Dad said, looking up. "I won."  
  
"What?" the whole table shouted.  
  
"We won!" Dad yelled, glee growing on his face.  
  
Mum jumped up and grabbed Dad in huge hug, laughing like a little girl who'd received a unicorn. Ginny turned to Ron and the two yelled with shocked happiness. Ginny threw one arm around Ron and the other around Harry, pulling them both into a hug. Fred and George tried to high five each other, but Fred missed and hit Percy in the nose while George gave his twin a smack in the face to match Percy's. Despite the fact that Fred had just face-palmed him, Percy stared in shock at their father.  
  
That week was full of celebrations. There was enough money to buy everyone new school robes, Muggle clothes for the teens to hang around in, and Ron a new wand, and they had plenty left over. Dad and Mum decided they wanted to visit Bill in Egypt, where he was working as a Curse-Breaker, and they stayed in Egypt a week, still leaving them with more than half of Dad's winnings.  
  
Even though Egypt was amazing and it was wonderful to see Bill, Ginny found she couldn't wait to go home. Harry couldn't go with them — he had caught the stomach flu — and although his voice was always in her mind, she really missed him. She knew he missed her too, and his voice woke her up every morning. Sometimes at unholy hours, such as seven thirty in the morning, which really was later for him because of the time difference.  
  
Despite her family's good fortune, not everything was going well. A mad mass murderer, Sirius Black, had escaped from Azkaban not long after they won the lottery. Ginny had overheard her parents talking about it, and her blood chilled whenever she thought of what they had said. She had told Harry instantly, and he had been quiet for most of the evening after that. Sirius Black had escaped from prison to hunt down Harry.  
  
When they returned from Egypt, Ginny unpacked and did her few chores as fast as she could before grabbing her bike — Dad had given it to her for a birthday — and peddled as fast as she could to Mrs. Evans' house. She had barely put down the kickstand when Harry came running out of the house and grabbed her in a hug. Ginny was startled but amused when he picked her up and spun her around.  
  
"I missed you too!" she said, laughing.  
  
Harry put her down, grinning. "Hey, guess what?" he said. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at her like the Cheshire Cat, and his eyes bright with excitement.  
  
Ginny copped a serious pose, stroking her chin and looking at her best friend with one eyebrow raised. Harry laughed at her  
  
"I have no idea," she said, dropping the pose.  
  
"I got a dog! Gram and I found him at the animal shelter the other day, cause it was Dudley's birthday and she wanted to get him an animal. We got Dudley a turtle, but that dog just looked at us so lonely-like, Gram said we had to take him in too, as an early present for my birthday."  
  
Ginny squealed and threw her arms around Harry's neck. "That's wonderful!" she said, grinning. "What's the dog's name? Boy or girl? Where is it?" she asked rapid-fire, letting go.  
  
Harry turned towards the house, and whistled. "Come here, Snuffles!"  
  
"Snuffles?" Ginny repeated, raising an eyebrow as a great big black dog came lumbering out of the front door. He had shaggy fur, lolling ears, and a long tail that wouldn't stop wagging. A leather collar was around his neck, the tags jingling merrily. Ginny was reminded of a picture she had once seen in Harry's photo album — a gift from Hagrid two years ago —, of Harry as a small baby and a black dog like this one, but this dog was thinner, his eyes sadder, and his fur was shot with gray along his muzzle and chest. She put it aside as it merely being a resemblance as the dog stopped in front of them, looking up at Harry expectantly.  
  
"Gram's idea. He kept sneezing when we found him, so she decided to call him Snuffles," Harry said shortly. Ginny bent down and held out her palm for the dog to sniff. Snuffles licked her palm, and Ginny scratched his ears. She noticed that he wasn't just thinner than the dog in Harry's photos, he was downright emaciated. She could see his ribs through his black fur.  
  
"He's beautiful, but he needs feeding," Ginny said. Snuffles barked happily, his tail wagging, and licked her face. She laughed, and hugged the dog around the neck.  
  
After that, Snuffles followed them around everywhere. He was always by Harry, always wagging his tail. He acted like an overgrown puppy, despite his gray hairs. Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Snuffles found themselves sleeping outside more and more often. Snuffles seemed to be just as fond of Ginny as he was of Harry, and would let her curl up with her head on his stomach. Harry would always have an arm draped over his dog, and Ginny would always be holding his hand. For some strange reason, he was aggressive towards Scabbers, so they kept the rat in Ron's room whenever Snuffles followed Harry to the Burrow. After they found Snuffles trying to sneak into Ron's room to get at the poor rat, Mum put a spell on the door to keep him out.  
  
Being only thirteen, neither child knew exactly why they slept with their fingers intertwined. Of course, Ginny felt butterflies in her stomach whenever her skin touched Harry's, and Harry's heart would imitate a race-car whenever she smiled at him, but they didn't really understand why. What Ginny realized though, was that when she slept outside, using Snuffles as a pillow and her hand in Harry's, she didn't have nightmares.  
  
Harry's birthday was approaching rapidly, and Ginny knew exactly what she wanted to get him for his birthday. She convinced her mum to take them to Diagon Alley before his birthday so she could get his present.  
  
Robes were bought, Ron got a new wand and rat tonic for poor Scabbers, Hermione bought a pet that was either a very big cat or quite a small tiger that seemed to dislike Scabbers as much as Snuffles did, and Harry had forgotten that his birthday was coming up. Ginny and Hermione snuck away while the boys were looking at the brand new Firebolt in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Mum knew where they were going, so they did not stop to explain to anyone. Ginny ducked inside the little shop, with Hermione at her heels. The owner looked up as the bell tinkled, and gave them a wide smile.  
  
"Hullo, girls!" she said through a thick Irish accent, coming out from behind the counter. "How may I help ye?"  
  
Ginny moved to a counter displaying glass sculptures. Most of the little glass creatures sat on their own, sleeping or pawing the ground, but a group of glass dogs was playing tag in the middle of the counter. She bent, examining them, as a glass retriever stopped chasing a bull-dog to sniff her curiously.  
  
"Like those, do ya?" the owner said with a grin. "I'm quite fond of 'em meself."  
  
"How much are the dogs?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Three galleons, seven sickles," she said. "But, if you buy one now, you get another half off."  
  
Ginny picked up the retriever. It barked up at her silently, wagging its tail enthusiastically.  
  
"I like this one," she said. Her eyes scanned the counter, and landed on another dog, sitting away from the others. Unlike most of the sculptures, this dog was made of black colored glass. It had shaggy glass fur, floppy ears, and looked identical to Snuffles.  
  
"This one too," Ginny said, picking it up. The dog seemed startled at first, but then started wagging its tail hopefully.  
  
"Aye, that one's a beauty," said the owner, smiling down on the glass dog fondly. "But, no one's ever wanted to buy 'im before now. Said he looked too lonesome, people said. Just out o' curiosity, why do you like him?"  
  
Ginny shrugged. "He looks like my best friend's dog, but since we'll be going to back Hogwarts soon, I don't think Snuffles will get to come with us."  
  
"Well, I think a few well chosen words with the Headmaster might get your friend's dog in," the lady said. "When I was at Hogwarts, me brother had this mastiff that followed 'im everywhere. Dumbledore didn't have the heart to make the poor pup wait for Jimmy to come home."  
  
Ginny smiled at the shop owner, who smiled warmly back. "Anyway," she said. "Five galleons, ten sickles for both of 'em."  
  
Ginny paid the woman, and watched as the shop owner charmed a box so the two dogs would not get broken on the way home. The miniature glass Snuffles was overjoyed to have been bought. Hermione then bought a colored glass barn owl, and the two of them went off.  
  
Harry questioned her and Hermione's absence, but shut up when Ginny told him it was 'girl stuff.' Honestly, the boy was thicker than a troll sometimes and just as easy to trick.  
  
Harry's grandmother was all in favor of holding a huge party for his thirteenth birthday, but Harry convinced her to hold a small one. Dudley was conspicuously absent from the festivities, but Mrs. Dursley hung around. Harry loved the glass dogs, so much so that he planted a kiss on her cheek. It was a chaste kiss, Ginny knew, but she couldn't help the swooping sensation that stole her stomach when his lips touched her cheek. Harry didn't seem to notice her reaction, and she kept it that way. Dumbledore even came to visit, and Ginny asked him if she could have a private word with him after term started and if Harry could bring Snuffles with him. Dumbledore was surprised at her request for a meeting, but agreed and as for Snuffles, the Headmaster said that as long as Hagrid would agree to keep him, Snuffles could come. Harry was even more ecstatic after that. She kept her appointment to herself for the time; no need to darken his mood.  
  
The reason she had decided to talk with the Headmaster were the nightmares she had when she slept inside. She knew exactly where these visions were: They were replays of Tom Riddle's finest and darkest moments, accompanied by emotions that weren't hers and nor did she want them. She was hoping he could deaden the memories or remove them completely.  
  
Before any of them knew it, it was September and time to leave for Hogwarts. Mrs. Evans, Harry, and Snuffles - the real one, not the glass one - joined them on the car ride to King's Cross. Mrs. Dursley had caught a cold recently, which meant that Harry's grandmother brought him.  
  
Dad pulled Harry aside before they got on the train, and Ginny, curious, listened in to what Dad was saying. He was warning Harry to not go looking for Black, which sounded extremely odd to Ginny, and confused Harry endlessly.  
  
Harry had not yet told Ron and Hermione about Sirius Black wanting to kill him, so after they all filed onto the train - Snuffles on a leash that Ginny was currently holding - Harry admitted that he had something to tell them.  
  
"Go away, Ginny," Ron said, once again displaying his affinity for being tactless.  
  
"Oh, that's nice," she said indignantly. "For your information, Ronald, I'm his friend too."  
  
"Ginny, don't go away," Harry said, shooting Ron an annoyed look. "Come on." He led them down the train, searching for an empty compartment. People stuck their heads out in the hallway, looking at both Harry and Snuffles. Whoever had owned Snuffles first had must have trained him well, because he didn't get overexcited by all the people around him. He stayed close to Harry's side, and quiet.  
  
Most of the compartments were full, and the only one they could find that was even remotely empty was one at the back of the train, occupied by only a man curled up under a traveling cloak and fast asleep. He looked quite young —maybe thirty—, but his sandy brown hair was shot with lines of gray and a few strands of white, his plain but handsome face was lined with worry wrinkles and scars and there were dark circles under his eyes. Snuffles ears perked up when he saw the man. They paused at the doorway, wondering whether to use the compartment or not. Since the train was usually only used by students, the only adult they had ever seen on the actual train was the witch who pushed the food cart. Ginny rolled her eyes at her friends and brother, and pushed her way in. Snuffles jumped up onto the bench immediately, and began sniffing the man.  
  
"Snuffles, no," Harry said. "Let him be."  
  
The dog let out low whimper, and curled up on the bench by the man, resting his head on the man's knee. Ginny and Harry exchanged looks; Harry pulled Snuffles off the man before he could wake up. They hadn't ever seen Snuffles behave like this before.  
  
"Who do you reckon he is?" Ron asked.  
  
"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione replied instantly.  
  
"How do you know that?" Ron said, goggling at her.  
  
"It's on his case," Hermione said, pointing up to the luggage rack above his head, where a battered brief case sat, held together mostly by a load of knotted string. 'Prof. R. J. Lupin' was printed across one end, the name was peeling away but the 'Prof.' looked new.  
  
Ginny took the seat next to Snuffles, and draped an arm across his back. Harry sat next to her, and Ron and Hermione took the other bench, with Crookshanks, her new cat, held in a wicker basket on the bench beside her. Ron made sure Scabbers was out of both Snuffles and Crookshanks' reach by putting his cage on the luggage rack before dropping into his seat.  
  
There was a short discussion on what they thought he would be teaching — Defense Against The Dark Arts, obviously — how well a job he would do — Ron remarked that one good hex could probably knock him over — and why he was on the train.  
  
"Never mind him, listen," Harry said rather hurriedly, and he explained about Sirius Black being after him. Snuffles looked up at this, and while Harry was talking, Snuffles was growling. Ginny stroked his ears, trying to calm him.  
  
_What do you think is up with Snuffles? Ginny thought.  
  
_Probably the train,_ Harry thought back. _Don't worry._  
  
It was strange to have Harry tell her to not worry, since it was usually him that did the worrying.  
  
_ I heard that.  
  
I am aware of this fact.  
  
You read too many books.  
  
You don't read enough!  
  
"Quit it!" Ron said, his voice exasperated. "Honestly, all this telepathy is driving me insane!"  
  
Snuffles' ears rose up. Ginny could swear he was raising an eyebrow, but dogs don't have eyebrows.  
  
"You're just jealous," Ginny told him. "If you had it, you'd never stop."  
  
"That's beside the point," Ron said, though his ears were going red.  
  
"That may be true, but Harry and I will continue our telepathy, whether you like it or not!" Ginny snapped.  
  
Ron crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione shot him a look of deepest annoyance, and turned to Harry.  
  
"So Sirius Black really escaped Azkaban to - to try and kill you?" she asked timidly.  
  
Snuffles let out a particularly agitated bark. Professor Lupin let out a snort and shifted in his sleep. Harry reached around Ginny and bopped Snuffles gently on the nose. "Quiet," Harry said. "What's got into you?"  
  
Snuffles whimpered softly and lay his head on Ginny's knee. Harry sighed at his dog, and ruffled his fur.  
  
"Yeah," he said to Hermione, "at least that's what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley reckon."  
  
"You've got to be really careful, then, Harry," she said, eyes wide with worry. "Don't go looking for trouble!"  
  
"I don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, annoyed, "trouble usually finds me!"  
  
"How thick would he have to be to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" Ron asked, scowling still.  
  
_Ron's right, for once,_ Ginny thought. _Why was Dad worried you'd go looking for Black?_  
  
A frown etched onto Harry's face. _I have no idea._  
  
Ginny met his eyes with her eyebrows knitted together as a slight worry entered her mind. _You wouldn't go looking for him, would you?  
  
No! Of course not; Black's a madman. I'd be just as mad as him to even think about looking for him._  
  
"What are you thinking about now?" Hermione asked, looking as annoyed as Ron, but also a bit amused.  
  
"Forget it," Ginny said. Snuffles, sensing she was upset, licked her hand. Ginny pulled her legs up on the bench and tucked them beneath her, leaning on Snuffles. Sometimes Snuffles treated her like he was her dog rather than Harry's. Not that she minded. She loved Snuffles, and it was nice to think of him as her dog too.  
  
"He was my dog first, you know," Harry said.  
  
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Ron and Hermione looked between the two of them, with familiar looks of bewilderment on their faces. Harry stuck his thumbs in his ears, giving himself cartoon antlers, went cross-eyed at her, and stuck his tongue out too.  
  
Snuffles let out a bark that sounded just like a laugh. Ginny laughed too; Harry grinned, obviously pleased with himself. Ron choked up snorting, and Hermione shook her head in amusement.  
  
The rest of the train ride proceeded much like the beginning, with Malfoy visiting in the middle to exchange a few choice insults and running back with his tail between his legs — literally: Ginny had found a hex in Tom's memories that gave the victim a long furry tail —, save for the last twenty minutes.  
  
The brakes squealed, and the train lurched to a stop, almost throwing Snuffles off the bench.  
  
"Finally!" Ron said, making to stand up. "I'm starving!"  
  
"We can't be there yet," Hermione said, frowning.  
  
"So why are we stopping?"His question was never answered. The lights flicked out. Neville came stumbling into their compartment, nearly sat on Crookshanks, and did end up sitting on Snuffles. Ginny stood up, maneuvered past Neville - who had elected to sit on the ground rather than the bench where there were too many animals - to the window.  
  
"I think someone's coming aboard," she said softly.  
  
"Who?" four anxious voices asked.  
  
"Dunno," she said. Suddenly the train lurched again, and Ginny stumbled backward. She tripped over Neville, and, as the train lurched again, she fell over backwards, straight into Harry's lap.  
  
"Hey, I'm here!" he said, almost indignantly, but Ginny heard his voice, which had just recently started to change, had taken on a higher tone. Even in the dark, Ginny saw that his cheeks were a bright pink. Hers probably matched.  
  
But embarrassment fled as the compartment door slid open.  
  
Ginny's breath caught in her throat. A tall, hooded, **thing** stood in the doorway, drawing in long, rattling breaths, like it was trying to suck more than air into its lungs. One rotted-looking scabbed hand rested on the handle of the door, looking like something disgusting that had decayed submerged in water. An instant chill spread through her, and, going by the fact that his arms had suddenly locked around her waist, it had also gone through Harry. The thing turned is hooded head towards her and Harry, and drew in another rattling breath.  
  
Flashes of a memory she had been suppressing for the entire summer hit her. Tom's laughing face, the feel of his hauntingly cold fingers on her neck — ready to squeeze the life from her —, his cruel words. But mixed in with the Chamber, she heard a woman screaming, begging someone for mercy. She felt Tom's breath on her ear, saw a flash of green light, and blacked out…  
  
"Ginny..."  
  
Someone was calling her name.  
  
"Harry! Ginny!"  
  
Something warm and soft tickled her face. She wrinkled her nose. A rough, wet something ran over her cheek.  
  
Her eyes shot open. Snuffles was bent over her, his wide eyes anxious. Could a dog be anxious? She registered Ron, Hermione, and Neville hanging over her with identical expressions of worry, saw Professor Lupin standing behind them, and felt an arm around her. The thing, whatever it was, was gone. She turned her head, to see a mess of black hair tucked in the crook of her neck.  
  
"Harry?" she said groggily. He let out a sound akin to a whimper and tightened his grip on her. "Harry, are you all right?"  
  
"Are **you** all right?" Ron questioned. Ginny ignored him, and prodded Harry in the shoulder.  
  
He raised his head. His glasses were off. His eyes were out of focus, but still startlingly green. They were oddly bright though, and a second later Ginny realized they were bright with tears.  
  
"Harry," she said softly, and, without really thinking about it, pressed her lips to his forehead. It was cold beneath her mouth. "Calm down. It's all right; it's gone."  
  
Harry glanced around, then his eyes widened when he took in his arms wrapped tightly around her. He quickly let go and sat up. He sat up too quickly and moaned; Ginny knew he was dizzy. She sat up, but more slowly, and squeezed his hand reassuringly.  
  
"What was that - that thing?" Harry asked. Professor Lupin answered him. It was a Dementor, and it had been looking for Sirius Black. Snuffles whimpered at this. He was shaking horribly. Ginny wrapped an arm around the dog, who licked and nuzzled her hand. Professor Lupin gave them all chocolate and Snuffles a strange look before going to see the driver.  
  
Harry moved around Ginny to wrap his arms around Snuffles, who was still trembling uncontrollably. He asked Ron and Hermione what happened exactly, and, after receiving his answer, asked if anyone else had passed out.  
  
"No," said Ron, who was still very white. "Snuffles was shaking like mad though."  
  
_Way to point out the obvious,_ Ginny thought. She was still very spooked, and so was Harry, but he was doing a better job of hiding it. Seeing Ron watching her anxiously, Ginny pulled her legs up on the bench and buried her face in Snuffles coat. Her hand found Harry's and she gripped it tightly.  
  
_Did you hear screaming?_ Harry thought.  
  
_Yes,_ she thought back. _Who do you think it was?  
  
I dunno. I saw Tom as well..._  
  
Ginny sucked in her breath. _Yeah. I saw him too.  
  
What do think it meant?  
  
I don't know._  
  
After the train pulled into the station and they pulled all of their things onto the platform, Ginny holding Snuffles leash as well as her trunk while Harry cartied Hedwig's cage and his trunk, and they all climbed into a carriage together. Snuffles sat on the ground by Ginny's feet, and Harry sat close to her and his dog. They had left their luggage on the platform as per normal, as someone would bring it up to the castle later. As they passed through the gates, they saw two more hooded Dementors. Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat until they had passed out of sight. Ginny gripped his hand like a life-line while the Dementors' chill still affected her.  
  
Up at the school, they met Hagrid outside the Entrance Hall.  
  
"Dumbledore told me yeh brought yer dog, Harry," Hagrid rumbled pleasantly. "He told me I was to let him stay in my cabin. Tha' all righ' with you, Harry?"  
  
Harry gave his 'yes' and Hagrid walked off with Snuffles towards his cabin. They went on to the Great Hall, until McGonagall stopped them, saying she wanted a word with Harry. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron went on without them, taking their seats in the Great Hall. On Harry's side of her mind, she could hear Madam Pomfrey fussing over him, but in the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat was beginning its song. It sounded just like the one it had sung before her sorting, Gryffindors are brave, Slytherins are cunning, blah blah; Harry came back after the Sorting was through, and Dumbledore gave a few announcements. The Dementors were there to guard the school until Sirius Black was captured. Professor Lupin was to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, which meant Hermione guessed right. Hagrid was the new professor for Care of Magical Creatures. Filch had added new stuff to the banned list. There was the usual reminder to not go in the Forbidden Forest, since it was, as its name implied, forbidden. Ginny thought Dumbledore had looked right at her twin and best friend when he said this. Dinner was excellent, as usual. When the puddings had vanished, they stayed behind while everyone else went off to bed to talk to Hagrid. After talking to him a moment, McGonagall sent them off.  
  
School started with its usual gusto. Hermione and Ginny headed off to Muggle Studies, while Ron and Harry went off to Divination. The Divination teacher predicted Harry would die; Ginny told him that she predicted deaths every five minutes, and her Muggle Studies teacher — Charity Burbage — asked her about her father's job, working with Muggles every day. Malfoy didn't listen in their first Care Of Magical Creatures class, and because of that got attacked by a Hippogriff. Not only that, but Ginny found that half of her lessons she already knew, thanks to Tom's memories. All in all, a good first day back.  
  
The first Wednesday of term, Ginny received a note from Professor Dumbledore about the meeting she had requested. He had set aside an appointment for that evening at eight. After reading it through, she handed it to Harry, who glanced over it.  
  
_You're going to tell him?  
  
Yes,_ Ginny thought. _You made a good argument.  
  
What's that at the bottom? He likes sugar quills?  
  
It's probably the password to get in.  
  
Oh. Okay. I'm coming with you.  
  
Fine with me._  
  
Harry smiled reassuringly, and went back to his breakfast. Ginny was nervous the rest of the day, and come eight o'clock, her knees were trembling and resented having to walk up to Dumbledore's office, with Harry by her side. She stopped in front of the gargoyle, and gave the password. The statue stepped aside, and the wall split open to reveal a spiral staircase.  
  
Up at the top, Ginny gave a hesitant knock.  
  
"Enter," Dumbledore said from within.  
  
She turned the doorknob, and they stepped inside.  
  
"Miss Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling warmly. "I was not aware that Mr. Potter was invited."  
  
"I hope you don't mind," Ginny said. "It concerns the both of us, what I've got to tell you."  
  
"Not in the slightest," Dumbledore said. "Please, have a seat."  
  
They did, and Ginny clasped her hands in her lap. She always did that when she was anxious.  
  
"So what did you wish to tell me?" Professor Dumbledore asked her kindly.  
  
Ginny had never had much patience for subtlety, nor for dancing around the subject. So, she blurted it out. "I've got Tom Riddle's memories in my head."  
  
Professor Dumbledore's gentle expression switched immediately to shock. He stared at her a moment; she dropped her gaze to her lap.  
  
"You have Tom Riddle's memories?" Dumbledore repeated.  
  
Ginny nodded.  
  
"Please elaborate," Dumbledore asked slowly.  
  
"Well, after what happened in the Chamber, I noticed that I had these memories that weren't mine, but at first they didn't really mean anything. They were just random facts and thoughts about places and people. But then one night in July, the memories got horribly vivid; they practically attacked my mind. I got a terrible headache, and I could barely move. It wasn't just memories, I felt the emotions that came with them. They were like visions."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I didn't know what to do, but then Harry showed up and the visions sort of faded," she plowed on. "He convinced me to tell you. Lately they've just been sitting there, and I've done my best to stay out of them, but sometimes they come up as nightmares."  
  
"You said that they were simply facts at the beginning," Dumbledore mused. "Can you still access those facts without triggering any memories?"  
  
"A few," she said. "I, uh, I've been using some of those to help me in classes."  
  
"Have you? And how does that work?"  
  
"Well, I'm pretty sure I've got all his memories from birth to sixteen, when he stopped writing in the diary," she explained, "so I know about every class he took."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore said again.  
  
Ginny bit her lip. Dumbledore was looking at her strangely, almost in an appraising way.  
  
"Do you know how he stored his memories in his diary?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.  
  
Ginny shook her head. "I tried not to go through them much, so I didn't figure that out."  
  
"I see," Dumbledore said once more. "Very well; thank you Miss Weasley. I will do some research on this and I ask you to keep this to yourself. As soon as I get some answers, I will inform you of them. In the meantime, keep doing what you are doing and avoid dwelling on Tom Riddle's memories."  
  
Ginny and Harry exchanged glances. Harry shrugged, and Ginny frowned. "All right," Ginny said. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
She and Harry left the office, and walked slowly up to the tower.  
  
_What do you think?_ Harry thought.  
  
_I think he'll take his time,_ Ginny said. _Like he is with our connection.  
  
It's a soul-bond, remember?_  
  
Ginny nodded. He had told her about his reading on their connection during the summer. But that only halfway confirms one suspicion. We still don't know exactly what it is and how it happened.  
  
True.  
  
Ginny leaned her head onto his shoulder as they were walking. She was feeling exhausted. Harry wrapped an arm around her; she let her eyes drift closed and allowed Harry to guide her up to the tower.  
Ginny leaned her head onto his shoulder as they were walking. She was feeling exhausted. Harry wrapped an arm around her; she let her eyes drift closed and allowed Harry to guide her up to the tower.  
  
September passed by quickly in a flurry of essays and new spells. Snuffles stayed at Hagrid's cabin, and they visited him whenever they could. Halloween brought the first Hogsmeade trip, and Ginny reluctantly left Harry at the castle to go, but brought him back a load of sweets. Hogsmeade was interesting enough, but she felt a strange sense of deja vu. She supposed she had Tom to thank for that. November was gone before she turned around. One very rainy Quidditch match, the Dementors came onto the grounds, and ended up making Harry fall off his broom. Even though she was far from the Dementors' reach, she heard screaming and Tom's laugh in her mind. At the same time Harry fell from his broom, Ginny collapsed in her seat. Ginny had never been so worried, but he recovered quickly though saddened. Not just by the fact that his broom had been destroyed after the wind took it to meet the Whomping Willow. They had figured out whose screaming they had been hearing: His mother's.  
  
Christmas came with another startling event. Ginny left with the others for Hogsmeade, feeling slightly guilty, but all the same, she needed to do Christmas shopping. She had instructed Harry not to peek while she was shopping, and wasn't really listening to his side of her mind. She was standing in Honeydukes, looking at a a display of Chocolate Frogs, rolling her eyes at what Ron and Hermione thought Harry might like, when a pair of hands clapped over her eyes, causing her to jump in surprise.  
  
"Guess who?" said a voice in her ear. Ginny knew that voice, but it couldn't be...  
  
"Harry?" she guessed.  
  
The hands retreated, and she turned around to see Harry's grinning face.  
  
"Harry!" she gasped, gobsmacked. "What - how -"  
  
"Look at this," he said, showing her a yellowed piece of parchment. It was a map. Fred and George had given it to him. He had sneaked out of school using a secret passage that led right into Honeydukes.  
  
"Those little prats!" she spat when he finished. "They never told me **anything** about a map!"  
  
They put his — albeit not allowed — presence to good use. She showed him around Hogsmeade, hiding the gifts she had bought of course, and they stopped for lunch in the Three Broomsticks. While drinking their butterbeer, the two of them were hit over the head with a conversation Ginny wished fervently that they had not overheard. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Hagrid arrived, causing Harry to jump under the table, with her father's boss, the Minister of Magic. Ginny tried to ignore them, but for some reason they chose a table right behind her and her hidden friend. She couldn't keep out their conversation, and was shocked to hear that Sirius Black wasn't just a madman who wanted to kill Harry. He was a traitor; he had given Voldemort the secret of where Harry's parents were living, allowing the dark wizard to find and kill them. Ginny's blood chilled as she heard McGonagall reveal that Sirius Black was Harry's godfather.  
  
Ginny almost risked awkward questions to go with him back down the secret passage from Honeydukes to Hogwarts, but Harry convinced her not to. She was afraid of what he might do.  
  
She finished her shopping as quickly as she could, and nearly sprinted back to Hogwarts. She found Harry in his dorm, looking at a photograph of his parents' wedding day. She didn't say anything. She sat down on the bed beside him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, and listened to his angry thoughts.  
  
She stayed there until he fell asleep. She put away the photo album, pulled his blankets over him with a flick of her wand, and, as an after thought, kissed his forehead. She was really worried about him. She pulled the curtains around his bed closed, and left the room. She passed Ron on her way out, who gave her a confused look.  
  
The next morning, Ginny waited in the common room with Ron and Hermione for Harry to wake up. Ron was nodding off in his chair and Hermione doing homework. She hadn't told them about Black, since it was really Harry's decision.  
  
When he did come down, he looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, and a scowl on his face to match Snape's.  
  
He didn't want to tell them about Black. They could tell something was wrong, but Ginny refused to say. She took him down to Hagrid's to see Snuffles, where they found Hagrid bent over a huge tankard of ale. He had not been sacked, but Malfoy's father was taking the case of Buckbeak versus Malfoy's lack of common sense before the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. When Hagrid rid himself of most of his drunkenness, he yelled at them for sneaking out, even though it was the middle of the day. Ginny convinced Hagrid to let them take Snuffles back with them, since most people had gone home for the holiday, before he escorted them back to the castle. She knew Harry would need the comfort, even if it meant that they had to put Scabbers in his cage and charm the curtains around Ron's bed so Snuffles would not be able to get in to attack the rat.  
  
Christmas morning dawned brightly, as Ginny woke to Harry yelling in her mind, which had become their tradition. He had perked up since the Hogsmeade visit. She snapped at him, even though she wasn't that annoyed, and turned to her presents, noticing Hermione opening her gifts. Mum had sent her a sweater, Hagrid candies, Hermione a pack of teen romance books - which made Ginny blush brightly and Harry tease her - and other assorted gifts from friends and family. Harry had sent her a bracelet, which meant it was his turn to blush. She nearly ran from her dormitory, not answering Hermione's queries as to where she was going, and up to his.  
  
Before he could speak a word she had thrown her arms around his neck and was hugging the life out of him. Ron laughed at his red face when she planted a kiss on his cheek.  
  
"It's just a bracelet," Harry stammered, still very red.  
  
"I love it!" Ginny said, beaming. Ron tugged the bracelet out of her hand. "Hey!"  
  
"'Harry James Potter'," he read the engraving. He looked up, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "What are you giving my sister a bracelet with your name on it for?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Just 'cause."  
  
Ron looked at Harry with such an accusatory look it was comical. Ginny plucked her bracelet out of Ron's hand and stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
"Help me put it on, please," Ginny said, almost shyly, to Harry. He did. She grinned down at the bracelet, and at Harry.  
  
Christmas brought more than just a bracelet from Harry. In the midst of his presents was a brand new Firebolt. Ron and Harry gushed over it, but Hermione wasn't very pleased. She grabbed Ginny's arm and tugged her away from where the boys were examining it. She whispered her theory that Sirius Black might have sent the broom, and Ginny, seeing the validity of her worry, grabbed Harry's arm and tugged him off the broomstick. After Christmas dinner, McGonagall took the broomstick away to make sure it hadn't been jinxed. Ron was furious, Harry was upset, Hermione ran off before they could yell at her, and Ginny tried to get Harry to see the point. It took a while, and a threatened hex, but he finally understood.  
  
New Years meant that Snuffles had to return to Hagrid's cabin, and brought the rest of the students back to Hogwarts, Lupin's lessons to Harry about warding off Dementors, and mid-year exams. Lupin was teaching him the Patronus Charm. Ginny had a memory of Tom learning about it in his sixth year, but Tom had never been able to master it, so Harry relayed everything he learned to her. Soon both of them were producing silver vapor, but neither one of them could make a true Patronus. A rift was driven between Ron and Hermione when Scabbers vanished; Ron accused Crookshanks of eating him, but Hermione stood by her cat. January brought more snow than was necessary, and another illegal trip to Hogsmeade for Harry. This time, Ginny insisted he bring his cloak.  
  
February was more interesting, as the Valentine's Day Hogsmeade trip brought a curious event. Ginny was suddenly being asked left right and center by boys to go with them to Hogsmeade. The first boy to ask was a fourth year Ravenclaw she didn't know, and she turned him down as soon as she got over her surprise. At the time, Harry was at Quidditch Practice and wasn't paying attention, so she didn't bother to tell him. All the same, she couldn't help but feel a bit giddy that someone thought she was worth asking out.  
  
That giddy feeling quickly turned to annoyance as more and more boys asked. A fifth year Hufflepuff she hadn't exchanged even two words with before stopped her in the corridor with a corny poem. Dean Thomas asked her to accompany him one morning when she was rushing to get to breakfast before class. He seemed rather put out that she said no.  
  
For some reason, though, no one ever approached her when Harry or any of her brothers were around. She decided to not tell any of her brothers, as they were likely to go pounding and pranking every boy who even looked at her, and not to tell Harry because he was likely to help her brothers. After all, she found herself thinking almost bitterly, he was practically another brother.  
  
But it seemed that a particular fourth year Gryffindor had not received the memo about not asking her in front of one of her brothers.  
  
"Hey, Weasley!" Ginny turned in her seat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall to see who was calling her. Harry, sitting across the table, kept eating his potatoes.  
  
A well-built fourth year boy was walking towards her, smiling in a way he probably thought was charming and Ginny thought looked a bit sinister. He stopped in front of her, and dropped onto the bench beside her.  
  
"Heard you haven't got a date for Hogsmeade yet," he said, still smiling creepily. "The name's Cormac McLaggen. How about being my date, eh?"  
  
Ginny was about to answer when a load of half-chewed potatoes splattered the left side McLaggen's face, effectively wiping the smile away.  
  
"What the?" McLaggen cried, a look of disgust taking his face, slightly marred by the potatoes. Ginny roared with laughter, and turned to look at Harry, whose mouth was hanging open still from when he spat his mouthful of potatoes across the table. Ginny grabbed a napkin and handed it to McLaggen, who hastily scrubbed his face clean of the offending starch.  
  
"Sorry," said Harry, however his voice portrayed no apology.  
  
_You're not sorry.  
  
Your point?_  
  
Ginny let out a half-concealed snort, and turned back to McLaggen. "I am flattered by your request, Cormac —"  
  
"So you'll go with me?" he said. "Good." He dropped the napkin onto the table, and mocked a bow to her. "I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at nine Saturday morning."  
  
"Wait —" Ginny said, eyes wide, but Cormac was already walking away. She sank in her seat, and turned to face Harry with a scowl, who was scowling just as hard.  
  
"You are not going with him," Harry said, before she could even begin complaining.  
  
Ginny swelled in her seat with indignation. "I beg your pardon?" she said icily.  
  
"I'll tell him," Harry said, standing. "You are not going out with him."  
  
"I rather think that's my decision," she said, now angry with him as well as McLaggen.  
  
"You don't want to go with him!" Harry said, but he dropped back into his seat.  
  
"That may be true —"  
  
"It is!"  
  
"He asked me, not you!"  
  
"But you were going to say no!"  
  
"So? You don't have to jump up and insist I say no!"  
  
Harry crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the retreating back of Cormac McLaggen. Ginny considered for a moment going with Cormac, just to spite Harry. Harry turned to her with a look of anger and hurt, telling her he had heard her thought, and she sighed.  
  
"Fine," she said, "let's go tell him."  
  
Harry was out of his seat and half way down the Hall before she had even set down her fork. She shook her head and followed her friend. The found McLaggen in the Entrance Hall, talking to a group of boys with triumph on his face.  
  
"Hey, McLaggen!" Ginny called. McLaggen turned around, and smirked at her.  
  
"Yeah, Weasley?" he drawled.  
  
"I think you misunderstood me," she said, smiling gently at him. "When I said I was flattered, I didn't mean that I wanted to go with you."  
  
His smug expression changed as quickly as if someone had splattered his face with potatoes.  
  
"What?" he spluttered. "But — but -"  
  
"So, that's a no," Ginny said. "Sorry."  
  
"But — but — I -"  
  
"I'm sure you are a lovely person," Ginny said, "I'm just not interested, that's all."  
  
McLaggen turned red as her hair. He glared at both her and Harry, who stood just behind her with his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Fine," McLaggen spat. "But you're making a mistake."  
  
McLaggen stormed off. The group of boys were all sniggering behind their hands. Harry grabbed Ginny's arm, and pulled her away from them, towards the stairs.  
  
"Hey!" she said, a little surprised. "What's gotten into you?"  
  
"Come on!" he said, pulling her up the stairs. Ginny sighed and let him drag her into an empty classroom. He turned to her, still scowling.  
  
"How many people asked you to go with them?"  
  
"Beg pardon?" Ginny asked, trying to feign innocence.  
  
"You heard me!"  
  
"What's it matter to you?"  
  
"How many?"  
  
Ginny sighed. "A few. It doesn't matter, all right? I said no to all of them."  
  
Harry scowled harder. "How many is a few?"  
  
"Why are you so grumpy about this?" Ginny shot back.  
  
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. Ginny felt a sudden wave of aggression from him, and not only that but a sense of possessiveness as well. Her fingers found the bracelet on her wrist, and she fingered his name engraved into the metal.  
  
"I see," she said softly, sort of pink. "You're jealous."  
  
"No!" Harry scoffed, turning bright pink. "No I'm not!"  
  
"Don't lie!" Ginny snapped, though she was beginning to feel amused by the situation. "I'm in your head, you goose!"  
  
Harry scowled. He seated himself on one of the desks, looking down at his feet. "Fine. I am."  
  
Ginny slipped onto the desk beside him. "A few is about ten. I turned them all down, Harry. I didn't even consider saying 'yes' for a moment."  
  
"I know," he mumbled. " I — I just — It's complicated —"  
  
"It doesn't have to be," she whispered. She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. He looked up at her, a frown still etched into his face. His eyes met hers, and her heart skipped a beat.  
  
"How can it not be complicated?" Harry asked.  
  
"I don't really know," she said, "I just know that you don't have to say anything."  
  
Harry nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the opposite wall. He closed his eyes, and Ginny listened to the thoughts that were rocketing through his mind. He was confused. He was possessive. He was shy. He was a thirteen year old boy with a crush.  
  
Ginny lay her head on his shoulder.  
  
_I understand,_ she thought.  
  
_I don't,_ Harry thought.  
  
_Yes you do. You just don't want to admit it._  
  
Harry sighed. _Fine. I... I like you._  
  
She smiled. _I like you too.  
  
You do?  
  
You are an idiot. You are in my bloody head and you couldn't tell?  
  
No! Girls' minds are confusing!  
  
Your mind is confusing you.  
  
Huh?  
  
What?  
  
See what I mean?_  
  
Ginny smacked his arm, but she was smiling. Harry mocked a look of deep pain, then grinned at her. He lay back on the desk, and pulled her down with him. Ginny let her head rest on his shoulder, and his arm pinned her to his side. He grinned at her from ear to ear.  
  
_So, now what?_ Harry thought.  
  
_I dunno. Do you want to kiss me?  
  
You don't know how badly I want to.  
  
Why don't you?_  
  
Harry looked down at her, his eyes wide and bright. She could hear his heart thumping in his chest and wouldn't have been surprised if he could hear hers. Her tongue shot out and licked her lips. His eyes went from her eyes to her mouth, and his lips parted a little.  
  
_I don't think we should yet,_ he thought.  
  
Why not? She thought, a bit disappointed.  
  
_I want it to be special. I don't think a classroom is special enough._  
  
Ginny cocked her head. "All right. That makes sense."  
  
Harry smiled at her, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "That should tide you over until I find a special enough place."  
  
"You know it won't."  
  
"Can't blame me for trying, though can you?"  
  
Ginny laughed, and dropped her head back onto his shoulder. She let herself just enjoy the feel of him next to her, his breath stirring her hair and sending slight shivers down her back. The light in the room slowly faded, while they fell into a shallow sleep, fingers intertwined.  
  
Sometime later, Ginny was shaken awake to see her brother, Percy, looking down on her disapprovingly. He dragged them out by the ear and escorted them to Gryffindor tower, going on about inappropriate behavior and what her mother would say. Ginny got fed up with his preaching by the time they had reached the Fat Lady's portrait, and said if her behavior was inappropriate, then his rolling around the dungeons with Penelope Clearwater was downright disgraceful.  
  
He left them with a very red face. She and Harry shared a laugh as they approached the stairs. Harry squeezed her hand with a smile, and sort of shyly kissed her cheek. He ran up his stairs just as red as Percy had been. Ginny just about floated up the stairs to her dormitory, beaming and bright pink. Hermione practically ambushed her with a rampage of questions, where had she been, what had she been doing, why was she so happy, but Ginny shrugged these questions off and settled into her bed with a contented sigh. She pulled her curtains closed in Hermione's face, and shut her eyes.  
  
_Ron was right annoying.  
  
He always is,_ Ginny thought. _Hermione wouldn't stop asking what we had been doing.  
  
That's to be expected. Ginny?  
  
Yes?  
  
I know I'm not really supposed to go to Hogsmeade, but would you go with me anyway?_  
  
She grinned into the darkness. Of course I will.  
  
Up in the boys' dormitories, all of Harry's roommates wanted to know why he wouldn't stop smiling. 


	10. The Prisoner of Azkaban Rewritten, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

Chapter Ten: The Prisoner of Azkaban Rewritten, Part Two  
  
Spring and Sirius  
  
Ginny

  
  
The Valentine's visit to Hogsmeade was, though her date was invisible, wonderful. Harry went un-invisible long enough to buy her a rose and a box of chocolates. They went up to the Shrieking Shack, in hopes of some privacy - and in Ginny's hopes for a kiss - but were sadly met with Malfoy and his cronies. Harry, under the cloak, splattered them all with mud, and sent them running back down the hill shrieking like little girls. Ginny cleaned the mud off his hands, and they walked back to Honeydukes. Harry kissed her hand before disappearing down the passage, and Ginny went back up to the castle smiling.  
  
Ginny gave the Fat Lady the password and stepped into the common room, sniffing her rose, and was accosted by Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked stiffly.  
  
"I'm not sure," Ginny lied easily. "He said he needed to get some homework done, so probably in the library."  
  
"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked, gesturing to the flower in her hands.  
  
"Hogsmeade," she said.  
  
"Who gave it to you?"  
  
"I believe that is none of your business," Ginny said, sticking her nose into the air.  
  
"I know all about your boat-load of admirers," Ron said, "so which one gave you that?"  
  
"I don't have a boat-load of admirers," said Ginny, as the portrait hole opened behind her.  
  
"Yes you do!"  
  
Ginny opened her mouth to retort when a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. She turned around, and smiled at Harry.  
  
"Where were you?" Hermione asked instantly, as Ron's jaw dropped from his face to hit the ground.  
  
"Library," Harry said shortly, pressing a kiss to Ginny's cheek. She smiled at him warmly.  
  
"Get your hands off my sister!" Ron spluttered, having finally recovered his jaw from his feet.  
  
"Get your brain back in your skull," Ginny snapped.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Ronald," Hermione sighed, "if Ginny didn't want Harry to do that, do you think she would have let him?"  
  
"I, uh, well..."  
  
"Get a clue, Ronald," Hermione said. "The important thing is that Harry was not in the library!"  
  
_Uh-oh_ , Harry thought.  
  
_I smell trouble,_ she thought back.  
  
_I smell something really good…  
  
Stop flirting! Focus on Hermione! She's going to figure it out!  
  
I don't wanna focus on Hermione!_  
  
"Stop thinking!" said Hermione in an utterly flustered voice.  
  
"Hermione, shush up about it," Ginny said. "And he was in the library, he was just wearing his invisibility cloak." She quickly came up with an excuse and sent it to Harry.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I might have annoyed Madam Pince," Harry said. "I spilled ink on one of her books, so she kicked me out. I thought it would be better to not bother her further and wear my cloak."  
  
Hermione looked between Harry and Ginny, let out a frustrated sigh, and brushed past them, no doubt heading to the library. Ron glanced between them, and stalked off towards the couches. Harry looked down at Ginny and grinned.  
  
_You should have been in Slytherin.  
  
I thought I was supposed to be in Ravenclaw?  
  
That too, but you are unceasingly cunning._  
  
Ginny chuckled, and pulled him over to the couches. She pulled out the box of chocolates he had bought her and shared with him. Ron kept shooting them annoyed looks, and Hermione mumbled under her breath about Charms and annoying friends. Both Harry and Ginny were tired from their trip to Hogsmeade, so they sat on the couch, just thinking.  
  
February was quickly gone and March was prancing past. Harry still hadn't deemed a situation special enough for a kiss, but Ginny didn't mind as much. April brought rain and beautiful days. Hermione questioned Ginny about the possibility that Harry was sneaking into Hogsmeade without telling anyone. Ginny said that it wasn't likely, since — obviously — he was sneaking into Hogsmeade and telling her about it, but she didn't mention that to Hermione. McGonagall gave Harry back the Firebolt and they won their next game.  
  
May came, and her birthday was a Tuesday. Harry promised to give her her present that Saturday, as someone had obviously decided to give her and Ron a treat and make that Saturday a Hogsmeade weekend. That Saturday morning, Ginny got up early, while Harry was still snoring, and got herself ready for a special day. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, and she was so nervous her hands shook. She hoped that today would be the special day Harry had been waiting for.  
  
She enlisted Hermione's help, though she refused to say why, to curl her hair and do her make-up. She wore a flowing pale blue chiffon skirt, a creamy white peasant blouse, jangly earrings her mum had given her for her birthday, and the bracelet Harry gave her for Christmas. She looked down at his name, and smiled like she always did. He was still asleep. Ginny glanced at the clock, and decided to have a bit of fun with him. She closed her eyes, and focused on Harry.  
  
_WAKE UP!_  
  
In his dorm, Harry let out a sudden shout of surprise and fell off his bed.  
  
_How's it feel to be on the receiving end of the shout?  
  
You're mean.  
  
And yet, you somehow can't get enough of me.  
  
Shut up.  
  
You shut up.  
  
Yes ma'am.  
  
Get ready, it's half past ten.  
  
When are we leaving?  
  
Eleven.  
  
Right. WHAT? I ONLY HAVE HALF AN HOUR? WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP EARLIER?  
  
If you needed more time, you should have set an alarm.  
  
You — you — you —  
  
Yes, yes. Half an hour._  
  
While Harry rocketed around his dormitory, throwing on clothes at random, Ginny took her time in painting her fingernails and toes a dark shade of blue and pulled on sandals. She pulled her hair back with a clip so the curls cascaded down her back, checked her make-up one more time — she rarely wore it —, tugged on a denim jacket and said goodbye to Hermione.  
  
"Have a good time!" Hermione called. "Who are you meeting?"  
  
"Nice try," Ginny said as she stepped out the door. "You going with Ron?"  
  
"Sort of," she said. "Want to tag along so it's not awkward?"  
  
"Nope!"  
  
"Bye," Hermione said miserably. Ginny gave her friend a sympathetic smile and went down to the common room.  
  
_Remember the plan. I'm going straight to Hogsmeade, you go to the One Eyed Witch and meet me in Honeydukes.  
  
I remember. See you soon._  
  
Ginny handed Filch her permission slip and started down the path to Hogsmeade. She held her breath as she passed the Dementors, but they were soon behind her and she was standing in Honeydukes.  
  
She was looking at a display of sugar quills while she waited for Harry, when Ron and Hermione stopped by to say hello. Ron gave her a once over and asked who she was meeting. She just smiled and sent them on their way. As the door closed behind them, Harry pulled the cloak off from behind the sugar quill display and stuffed it into his bag.  
  
"Oh, hello there," she said, smiling at him. He wasn't looking at her, but watching Ron and Hermione disappear down the street.  
  
"Good thing they walked away when they did," he said, turning to look at her. "I wouldn't want our... our..." he trailed off, his eyes wide as dinner plates as he stared at her.  
  
"Cat got your tongue?" Ginny said, now smiling smugly at his reaction.  
  
"Uh..." he said, rather intelligently.  
  
Ginny linked her arm through his. "Come on, I want my present and you owe me a birthday dinner."  
  
Harry recovered his wits by shaking his head jerkily. "You're wearing a skirt!" Or rather he recovered his power of speech.  
  
"I am; glad you noticed."  
  
"And — and make-up!"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"You — you look really nice," he finished, a bit lamely, but Ginny beamed.  
  
"Thank you; you look nice too."  
  
Harry turned a lovely shade of pink, and turned to the street. He did look good: He'd worn a pair of khaki slacks, a white button up with the top button undone, and combed his hair —though that did little good. He glanced down it, making sure no one who could report him to one of the teachers was looking, and led her to the Three Broomsticks. Ginny made sure Ron and Hermione weren't in there before they found a table and ordered food and drinks. Harry was increasingly nervous as they finished their lunch. He fidgeted around, gulping down his drink, and kept staring at her. After half an hour of his behavior, Ginny was beginning to regret the skirt.  
  
Harry, you're staring again, she thought as she sipped her butterbeer.  
  
Harry shook his head with a jerk. "Sorry. It's just — you're really pretty."  
  
She blushed. "Thank you, Harry."  
  
"I should probably give you your present now," he said, almost to himself. Ginny smiled and nodded. "Right." He pulled a small box out of his bag, and handed it to her.  
  
"You had better not have spent a lot on me, Potter," she said as she took it. Harry scoffed and waved a hand.  
  
"Course I didn't," he lied. Ginny sighed, resigned to the fact that he would never get it through his skull that she was in his head and therefore knew when he was lying, and turned to her gift.  
  
It was a small box, and fit in the palm of her hand. It was very thin, and light. She pulled the paper off, to reveal the velvet outside of a jewelry box. She opened it, and clapped a hand to her mouth.  
  
"Harry!" she said, in a low and shocked voice. "This — this is —"  
  
"Not incredibly expensive," he said quickly. "But I thought you would like it."  
  
In the box was a gold chain with a simple heart shaped pendant, but there were gems set into the edge of the heart that Ginny — even though she was a tomboy and usually rejected anything girly — knew to be diamonds.  
  
"It's not real gold, is it?"  
  
"Um… yes?"  
  
"Real gold?"  
  
"Well, the chain is sterling silver plated in gold, but the pendant is real gold."  
  
Ginny's eyes were probably as big as Harry's had been when he saw her skirt. "Seriously?"  
  
"Open it."  
  
"It's a locket?"  
  
"Yeah. Open it!"  
  
Ginny saw the hinges and the clasp, and opened it with shaking fingers. There was already a picture inside; she and Harry sat on the dock by her family's pond, dipping their toes into the water and just looking at each other. She smiled; Mum had said that they looked so perfect right there, that she just had to capture the moment.  
  
"Thank you, Harry," she said. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger on his cheek a moment longer than necessary. He grinned at her. She pulled the locket out of the box, and raised her eyebrows at him. He took it from her, she turned her back, pulling her hair from the back of her neck, and he slipped the locket around her neck. His fingers brushed the back of her neck, and she shivered. She let her hair fall, and smiled at him again.  
  
"And I've got one more thing for you," Harry said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"This."  
  
He leaned forward, and pressed his mouth to hers. Ginny practically melted. He pulled back, smiling, and Ginny grinned.  
  
"This is the best birthday ever!" she said. "And yes, I know it isn't actually my birthday," she added, as Harry opened his mouth. He shrugged, and took her hand.  
  
"Was that a good first kiss?" he asked shyly.  
  
She nodded, beaming. "You know what would make it better?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"A second one."  
  
Harry laughed, and complied happily. After a few more minutes and a few more kisses, it was just about time to leave. She and Harry left the Three Broomsticks for the street beyond, and walked hand in hand back to Honeydukes.  
  
She left him there to walk back to the castle. She didn't bother heading for Gryffindor Tower. She met Harry by the One Eyed Witch, and they found an empty classroom. They alternated between kissing and talking and thinking. When Harry's watch read quarter to seven, and their stomachs rumbled, they left the classroom for dinner, where Ron and Hermione met them with suspicious looks. Ron was eyeing their joined hands, and Hermione brought up the old argument of whether or not Harry had actually stayed behind.  
  
_Your turn to think of a way to distract her,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_Why me?  
  
I did it last! And you're the one who's sneaking out!  
  
I don't hear you complaining._  
  
Ginny blushed. Harry smirked at her. Ron groaned and hung his head in his hands.  
  
_Fine. How do we distract her?  
  
I dunno. You're the one who has all the brilliant ideas.  
  
Flattery will get you nowhere.  
  
I may have to disagree with that comment._  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow. He smiled hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows. She chuckled, shaking her head.  
  
"So where were you?" Hermione asked again.  
  
Harry dropped his fork, turned to Ginny, and put both of his hands on her cheeks. Before Ginny could ask what he was doing, he crushed her mouth with his.  
  
When he pulled back, not only was Hermione distracted, but half the table had ceased their conversations to gawk at them. Ginny was a very bright shade of pink. But she went back to her shepherd's pie as though nothing had happened.  
  
Hermione did not try to interrogate Harry again that evening. Ron was in too much shock to threaten to pound Harry.  
  
From then on, she and Harry did not bother to keep silent about their relationship. One evening, while she and Harry were sitting on one of the couches, McLaggen walked up to them and gruffly said that he would have been a better choice for a boyfriend. Ginny sent him to the hospital wing with a face full of blisters, courtesy of a hex Tom had learned in his fifth year. Her friends were happy for her, even if Pavarti Patil huffed about it initially. Hagrid let out a booming laugh of approval when he realized what had happened between them, and when Harry kissed her in front of Snuffles, the dog barked in what seemed to be amused joy.  
  
Not only that, but during his next anti-Dementor lesson with Lupin, Harry created a perfectly formed Patronus; a strong and regal stag. When Ginny asked him what memory he had used, he turned pink and said the memory of kissing her. Though she was rather pink too, she tried the spell with that memory, and a silver tiger burst from her wand. To celebrate, she and Harry snuck off to an unused classroom, alternating between thinking and kissing. Sometimes both at the same time. It was very enjoyable.  
  
All in all, life couldn't be more perfect.  
  
And then Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak was to be beheaded. There was still the appeal, but he had little chance of winning it. On top of that, Professor Trelawney made an ominous pronouncement to Harry at the end of his Divination exam.  
  
Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione grabbed the Marauder's Map and Harry's cloak straight after dinner and sneaked down to Hagrid's cabin. Hagrid told Ron that he had found Scabbers hiding in the vegetable garden and gave him back the rat, but there was nothing they could do about Buckbeak. Hagrid shooed them out as the committee members approached for the appeal.  
  
Under the cloak, they walked slowly around Hagrid's hut, warily watching the adults. Ron's fists were clenched in anger. Hermione kept sniffling. Just as they moved out of sight of the hut, Snuffles bounded towards them.  
  
"Snuffles!" Harry whispered. "Go back! What are you doing?"  
  
Snuffles ignored Harry's command. The dog bared his teeth, and growled at the group.  
  
"Snuffles!" Harry scolded. "What's the matter? Be quiet!"  
  
Harry reached out from under the cloak and grabbed Snuffles collar. He dragged the dog under the cloak with them.  
  
"Scabbers! Stop that!" Ron was saying, as he shifted the squirming rat in his hands. "Yeouch! He bit me!"  
  
Ron dropped the rat, and Scabbers streaked out of sight. Snuffles lurched forward, catching Harry by surprise. The dog tore after the rat, barking and snarling.  
  
"Scabbers!" Ron said, tearing after Harry, Snuffles, and the rat.  
  
"Snuffles!" Harry yelled. "Come back!"  
  
Harry ducked out from under the cloak, and ran off after his dog.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione called. "No!"  
  
Harry, you idiot, get back here! Ginny thought desperately. She glanced at Hermione, who sighed, and they ran after the two boys and their pets, the cloak flying after them like a sail.  
  
Ron dove into the shadow of a tree, yelling "Gotcha!" Harry lunged at Snuffles, trying to grab his collar, but the dog ducked out of Harry's reach and ran for Ron. Ron let out a yelp of surprise as Snuffles barked in his ear. Harry tripped over a tree root as he tried to grab Snuffles, and his glasses flew off his face. Ginny dropped the cloak and darted towards the dog, but she was too late. Snuffles' teeth had gripped Ron's sleeve, and was dragging him towards the tree. Harry was yelling at him to stop, Ron was smacking the dog's flank with the hand that wasn't holding Scabbers, Hermione was trying to find Harry's glasses, and the tree was angry.  
  
A branch swung out of nowhere and caught Ginny in the stomach. She flew backwards, the wind forced out of her. She hit the ground, and gasped for air. Harry stumbled towards her, squinting to see without his glasses. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. Ginny saw another branch swinging towards them, and pulled Harry out of the way. Ginny looked around, to see that Snuffles and Ron were gone. Hermione threw Harry's glasses at her, and jumped out of the way of a branch. And, with a gasp of surprise, vanished.  
  
"Hermione!" Ginny shouted. Harry shoved his glasses back on, and pulled Ginny out of the way of another branch. As she stumbled forward, she saw why Hermione had vanished. There was a gap in the roots, leading down to a tunnel.  
  
"There!" she gasped, pointing to it. She pulled Harry forward, and jumped down the hole.  
  
They slid down a tunnel, to hit hard dirt floor. Hermione was standing bent double in the tunnel in front of them, anxiously looking around.  
  
"Where are we?" she said. "Where does this go?"  
  
"I have an idea," Harry said glumly, pushing himself up, and accidentally hitting his head on the low ceiling. Rubbing the top of his head, he added, "But you're not going to like it."  
  
"Why do all of your ideas end badly?" Ginny grumbled, taking his hand and standing.  
  
"Oi! Not all of them!"  
  
"Shush!" Hermione said, flapping her hands wildly at them. "I hear something."  
  
Harry pulled out his map, and lit his wand. Ginny and Hermione did too. "Hang on, hang on... Yes! Ron's down here! And — and... oh no..."  
  
"What?" Ginny said, looking at the map. Her jaw dropped. "No!"  
  
"What?" Hermione said, looking flustered. She couldn't read the map upside down.  
  
"Sirius Black..." Harry said. "He's got Ron..."  
  
Harry shoved the map into his pocket. "Come on. We have to save Ron."  
  
He led them down the tunnel, each one with their wand drawn. After several long, tense minutes, they reached an exit. Harry pushed it open, and climbed out. He turned, and helped Ginny out, then Hermione.  
  
"Where are we?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"I think the Shrieking Shack," Harry whispered back. "Follow me."  
  
Everything was covered in dust, but for a stripe on the floor where something had been dragged up the stairs. Upstairs, Ginny could hear Ron moaning. She darted up the stairs, keeping her feet as light as she could, and spotted one door open slightly. She pressed a finger to her lips, and tiptoed towards it. She peeked in, and saw Ron sitting on the floor by a four poster bed that probably would have been elegant if it had been clean.  
  
Ginny darted inside, dropping to her knees by her brother. Hermione and Harry followed her.  
  
"What happened, Ron?" Ginny asked. "Where's Snuffles? Harry's map said Sirius Black —"  
  
"He's Snuffles!" Ron gasped. "Sirius Black is Snuffles!"  
  
"What?" Harry gasped, shocked.  
  
"Snuffles is Sirius Black! He's an Animagus!" Ron raised a shaking finger, and pointed to the other side of the room.  
  
The door shut with a crack. They jumped around, to see a ragged man standing by the now closed door. Matted black hair hung to his elbows, dark eyes stared out at them from sunken sockets, yellow, waxy skin clung to his bones. He had the weak, stretched look of a starved person who had just begun to gain weight. Ginny jumped up and stepped between him and Harry.  
  
"If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me first!" Ginny said.  
  
"Ginny, no —" Harry started, standing up behind her.  
  
"Only one need die tonight," the man rasped. He leaned his head to the left, and, with a grimace, cracked his neck. "Merlin, it feels good to be a man again."  
  
"Did you hear me?" Ginny snapped. "I will not let you hurt him!"  
  
"The filthy rat needs to die," Black spat. "You don't understand —"  
  
"We understand a lot better than you think!" Harry shouted. "You killed my parents! You're the reason they're dead!"  
  
"I won't deny it," Black said, his voice suddenly full of sorrow. "It was my fault. But I doubt you know the whole story —"  
  
"The whole story?" Ginny said, shaking with anger. "You sold Harry's parents to Voldemort! Now you want to kill Harry!"  
  
"What?" Black said, frowning. "Who said anything about killing Harry?"  
  
Ginny faltered. Black looked confused as heck, and Ginny felt just as bewildered.  
  
"Don't — don't you want to kill Harry?" Hermione asked in a small voice. "Because of — of You-Know-Who?"  
  
Black opened his mouth to say something, but then the door burst open, and Professor Lupin strode in, his wand out. He stopped, looking between Black and Ginny standing in front of Harry and Ron still clutching Scabbers.  
  
"Black," he said, turning his wand on the ragged man by the door. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Remus," Black said stiffly. "I came to commit the murder I was sent to Azkaban for."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Will someone explain what the ruddy hell is going on?" Ron shouted. Lupin glanced back at Ron, and stepped towards him.  
  
"What happened to your leg?" Lupin asked.  
  
"I think I broke it," Ron said. Lupin bent and touched Ron's ankle. Ron hissed out a sound of pain.  
  
"Broken," Lupin agreed. He waved his wand, and splints and bandages wrapped around him. "We'll have Madam Pomfrey see to it back up at the castle." Lupin turned back on Black.  
  
"You understand I have to turn you in," said Lupin sadly. Black nodded.  
  
"If that boy takes his rat up with us, I'll come quietly," Black said. "If I can't kill him, at the very least I should be able to prove my innocence."  
  
"What?" Lupin said, frowning. "But — but it isn't — it can't be — Did you switch without telling me? How could he be alive?"  
  
"We did," Black said. "Peter was Secret Keeper, not me. After Lily and James — after they died, the dirty rat faked his death."  
  
"But his finger —"  
  
"He cut it off," said Black gruffly.  
  
Lupin stared at Black in confusion.  
  
"Will someone answer Ron's question?" Ginny asked.  
  
"You aren't after Harry?" Lupin asked. Black shook his head.  
  
"But — But Mr. Weasley said you talked in your sleep — 'He's at Hogwarts,' he said you said," Harry stammered.  
  
"You're not the only one at Hogwarts, Harry," Black said. "The rat's here too."  
  
"What rat? Who are you talking about?"  
  
"Peter Pettigrew," Black spat.  
  
"Ron, let me see that rat," Lupin said, turning to Ron. Ron clutched Scabbers closer to him.  
  
"What are you going to do to him?"  
  
"I want to see if Sirius is right. If that rat really is just a rat, it won't hurt him."  
  
Ron looked down at the rat in his hands. Scabbers was squeaking madly, flailing around and trying to escape his grip. Reluctantly, Ron handed Lupin his rat.  
  
Lupin prodded the rat with his wand. Scabbers glowed blue. The rat squirmed harder, and Lupin quickly cast a Stunning Spell. The rat fell still in his hand. Ron let out a shout of indignation, but Hermione kept him from running to snatch his rat away from their professor.  
  
"It is him," Lupin muttered, seeming to ignore everyone else. He stared at the rat a moment, then with a wave of his wand conjured a cage. He stuffed the rat unceremoniously inside, and shut the door with a snap.  
  
"Back up to the castle," Lupin said. "I'm not saying I believe you, Sirius; I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt."  
  
Ginny and Harry exchanged glances. So far, that evening was like something out of a book.  
  
Lupin conjured a pair of shackles and chained Black's hands behind his back. Harry and Ginny helped Ron stand. Hermione was given the cage with the still cowering Scabbers. Lupin kept his wand on Black as they moved out of the tunnel. Harry scooped up the cloak as they passed it and stuffed it into his robes. They marched up to the castle, Lupin finally taking the time to berate them for sneaking out past curfew. Lupin led the way to Dumbledore's office, his wandless hand firmly gripping one of Black's arms. Lupin gave the password, and brought them up.  
  
Dumbledore looked up in surprise when Professor Lupin stepped inside with Black, and even further bewildered when Ginny and Harry followed with Ron, and Hermione brought up the end with Scabbers' cage.  
  
"What — Remus —" Dumbledore spluttered.  
  
"I found him in the Shrieking Shack, along with these five," Lupin said, gesturing to them. "He claimed Mr. Weasley's rat was Peter Pettigrew. I performed a detection spell and determined that the rat is definitely an Animagus, but I did not want to force him to show who he really is in the shack."  
  
Dumbledore, for some reason, glanced out the window, where the sun could be seen sinking down over the mountain. "Remus, it is close to nightfall. Did you —"  
  
Lupin's face paled. "I — I forgot — I saw them enter the tunnel — and it slipped my mind —"  
  
Dumbledore shot from his chair, and darted to the fireplace. Ginny and Harry exchanged confused glances. Dumbledore threw a handful of powder into the fire, and called "Severus! I need you!"  
  
The flames roared bright green, and Snape stepped out. He gave Harry his usual sneer, then stopped in shock at the sight of the chained Black.  
  
"Remus needs his potion," Dumbledore said. "Fetch it, quickly."  
  
Snape spared Black one more confused look, before stepping back through the fire. A moment later, he returned with a smoking goblet. He handed it to Lupin, who gulped it down quickly with a look of disgust. He turned back to Dumbledore, still pale.  
  
"I am very sorry, Headmaster, I cannot believe I did not think of it before I went after them — I just knew something was wrong —"  
  
"I understand, Remus," Dumbledore said. "You have taken it now, and there has been no harm done. You were worried about the students, and you have been taking it all week. I understand."  
  
"Headmaster," Snape said, "where did he come from?" Snape gestured to Black, his black eyes narrowed in loathing.  
  
"Professor Lupin was about to explain," Dumbledore, returning to his seat behind his desk. "I would very much like to know as well. Severus, you may go."  
  
Snape looked for a moment as though he would rather stay, but a look from Dumbledore seemed to end it. He turned and stepped back through the Floo.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, please have a seat. It would be best if you stayed off your leg until Madam Pomfrey looks at it," Dumbledore said. Ginny helped Ron into a chair.  
  
"Remus, please explain, and quickly."  
  
Lupin began his explanation. He started with how he had been watching Hagrid's cabin, worried about Buckbeak and worried that they would try to go and see him. He had seen Snuffles chase Scabbers, and Harry and Ron chase the dog and the rat. He had watched the tree attack them, and them go down the tunnel, and had then decided that he couldn't watch anymore and went after them. He explained how he had found them in the Shack, and what Black had said and the consistencies with Black's story and what he, Lupin, already knew. When he finished, Dumbledore turned to Harry.  
  
"And what is your side, Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry looked down at his feet as he explained their version of the evening's events, though tiptoed around the subject of the Map, since Dumbledore would probably want to confiscate it. When Harry finished, Dumbledore turned to Black.  
  
"As you are aware, Sirius, I am Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. At the time when you were sentenced to Azkaban, I was over-ruled by Barty Crouch in the area of your trial."  
  
"I didn't get a trial!" Black spat.  
  
"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "I was in favor of hearing your side of the story, but Mr. Crouch was not. Given that he, nor any other Ministry official, is not here, however, he will not stop me from giving you a, albeit unorthodox, trial now. Please state your story."  
  
Black blinked at Dumbledore, stunned for a moment, before launching into his story. "You know how James and Lily used the Fidelius charm to try and protect themselves, right? Well, they wanted to make me their Secret Keeper, but I convinced them to switch to Peter at the last minute. Everyone knew I was James's best friend, so people would assume that I was the Secret Keeper, but no one would suspect Peter. We thought we could trust him, but he was the mole. He betrayed James, and he framed me! The night they died, I went to find him, and he yelled for the whole world to hear that I betrayed them, and then he faked his death. He cut off his finger and blasted the street apart before I could stop him."  
  
"How did he disappear, though?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"We're unregistered Animagi," Black said. "James, Peter, and I did it because of Remus."  
  
Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all exchanged a glance. What did Remus have to do with this?  
  
"What is your form?"  
  
Black looked at his shackles a moment. "Can I take these off so I can show you?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded to Lupin, who tapped the shackles, and they fell off. Black closed his eyes, and, with a pop, vanished. In his place sat the shaggy black dog Harry had adopted the previous summer. Harry let out a groan and hung his head in his hands.  
  
“I thought — I almost thought that I recognized him on the train,” Lupin said, half to himself. “At the time, I thought it was impossible.”  
  
The dog nuzzled Harry's hand, but Harry pushed him away. Snuffles looked at him sadly, then, with another pop, turned back into Black.  
  
"I've been alone with Harry plenty of times over the year," Black said. "If I wanted to kill him, I could have done it already."  
  
"And I am to assume Peter's form was a rat?" Dumbledore asked, one eyebrow raised.  
  
Black nodded.  
  
"Please open that cage, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione turned the cage on its side so Scabbers couldn't get out and unlatched the door. Dumbledore crossed to her, and lifted the rat out of the cage. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the closed door, which glowed white for a moment, before turning his wand on Scabbers. He whispered a spell, and Scabbers squeaked in terror as he glowed brightly. Dumbledore set the rat on the floor, and a second later it was no longer a rat. A small man crouched on the ground. He had very little hair, and retained the looks of the rat. He had the look of a person that, in contrast to Black, had lost a lot of weight in a short time.  
  
"Peter Pettigrew," Dumbledore said, his wand still on him. "I would like you to confirm something for me. Were you James and Lily Potter's Secret Keeper rather than Sirius Black?"  
  
Peter Pettigrew sniveled, showing his buck teeth and squinting through his watery eyes. "I was," he said, in a voice that sounded just like Scabbers squeaking.  
  
"And did you sell them to Lord Voldemort?"  
  
Peter let out a moan. "I d— didn't mean to! He would have killed me if I didn't say!"  
  
"You coward," Black spat at Peter. "You should have died rather than betray James!"  
  
"And, if my calculations are correct, Peter, you were passing information to Voldemort for over a year before James and Lily made you Secret Keeper," Dumbledore said calmly. "What have you got to say for yourself?"  
  
Peter's eyes darted around the room, taking in Ginny and her friends standing by the desk, the door, the windows that were too high off the ground to escape through, and Remus and Sirius standing between him and the door. "I— I— didn't want to! The Dark Lord — he has tools — evils found in only the worst nightmares! Please, understand! He would have tortured it out of me if I had not told him!"  
  
"I hear only excuses," Dumbledore said. "Show me your left forearm, Peter."  
  
Peter started. "My — my what?"  
  
Dumbledore grabbed Peter's left arm, rather roughly, and pushed up his sleeve. Ginny leaned forward to see what was on his arm. A faint image of a skull, and a snake wrapped around it, rested upon Peter's skin. This image triggered one of Tom's memories, one from his sixth year.  
  
"That's a Death Eater mark," she said, before she could stop herself.  
  
Dumbledore turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Miss Weasley, it is. How did you know?"  
  
Ginny turned pink. "My, er, dad told me," she lied, rather flatly.  
  
The others in the room seemed to accept her amateur lie. Dumbledore frowned slightly at her, but after a moment his eyebrows rose nodded; he turned back to Peter. "This proves you are a Death Eater, Peter. I will have Professor Lupin and these students stand as witnesses to this trial; you have confessed to a weighty crime. I charge you with treason, murder of twelve Muggles, and aiding Lord Voldemort in at least two murders, and find you guilty. I will recommend to the Wizengamot that you be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban, pending a formal hearing."  
  
Peter's small eyes widened to the size of saucers. "No! Please!"  
  
"My verdict does not change," Dumbledore said. "Sirius, I find you innocent of the crimes you were wrongfully convicted of and sent to Azkaban for."  
  
Black's eyes grew to be larger than Peter's. "Really? I thought — I was sure you would take more convincing!"  
  
"If the situation had been different, I would have been," Dumbledore said, "but upon seeing you enter the room, I activated a truth ward on my office. There was no way you could have attempted to deceive me without my knowledge."  
  
_Truth ward?_ Harry thought. _Is that possible?  
  
I think so,_ Ginny thought. _Bill's a Curse-Breaker and he knows all about wards. He's told me a lot about them.  
  
Do you think he'll know we left the Map out?  
  
No, you didn't say anything about it, so the ward shouldn't recognize deception. If you had stumbled and mentioned something related to the map, and then covered it up, the ward would have noticed it.  
  
Good. What about what you said about the mark?  
  
He'll realize that I know because of Tom's memories, and let it go._  
  
"Professor Lupin, would you please place shackles on Peter?"  
  
"Certainly, Headmaster," Lupin said. He waved his wand and Peter's wrists were encased in a set of heavy black shackles. Peter let out a moan and sank onto the floor. Dumbledore waved his own wand and the shackled man slumped forward, stunned.

“That should hold him until I can summon Aurors,” Dumbledore sighed. Then he turned to Sirius.   
  
"Sirius, I would like to extend a official apology for the miscarriage of justice that ended in your imprisonment. I would like to know, though, how did you escape?" Dumbledore said, sitting back down behind his desk.  
  
Black shrugged. "I transformed into my Animagus form and slipped through the bars when the Dementors opened my cell to give me food one day. The only reason I didn't go insane was because I knew I was innocent."  
  
"I see. Thank you, Sirius. You know I will have to say that you and Pettigrew are unregistered Animagi, and will have to insist that you register yourselves."  
  
"I know," Black said.  
  
"Now, if I could have you all sign this paper," Dumbledore said, as he waved his wand and a slip of paper dropped onto his desk, "and then, Miss Granger, would you please escort Mr. Weasley to the Hospital Wing? Please be aware that the paper is charmed to hold you to your agreement."  
  
Hermione nodded, and helped Ron stand. They both signed the paper, and left the office. Ginny read the paper quickly before signing it. It was a simple agreement, everything that was said was true, there were no exaggerations, and she was willing to be witness to Dumbledore's verdict. She signed it quickly and stepped aside so Harry and Professor Lupin could sign.  
  
"Harry, if you would wait a moment," Dumbledore said, "there are a few things that should be explained to you. Miss Weasley, you might as well stay, since you will hear the whole thing anyway."  
  
"Wait," Professor Lupin, said, frowning, "how will she hear?"  
  
"Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter have a unique bond," Dumbledore said. "I suppose you deserve the full details. In short, their minds are connected and they can communicate telepathically."  
  
"They mentioned telepathy before," Black said. "It always confused me."  
  
"When have you mentioned it before?" Dumbledore asked, frowning at the two of them.  
  
"Only when no one else could hear us," Harry said quickly. Dumbledore nodded understandingly.  
  
"Now, Harry, you should know the exact details of Sirius and Remus's relationship with your parents."  
  
_Should we say we already know?_ Ginny thought, looking at Harry.  
  
_Nah. It would just get me in trouble.  
  
Me too. Fine._  
  
"First, Sirius is your godfather, Harry."  
  
Harry did his best to look surprised. Ginny knew Dumbledore could see through it, but it seemed to satisfy Black and Lupin.  
  
"Second, he is also your legal guardian. The reason you have lived with your aunt is because he was in Azkaban, as Lily made your aunt your godmother and therefore second in line to care for you. Now, Remus, if you would tell him the story?"  
  
Remus let out a sigh. And then he explained everything. Sirius, Remus, James, and Peter had all been in the same year at Hogwarts. They were pranksters, and inseparable. They had made the Marauder's Map, and had gotten their nicknames from their forms. Sirius was Padfoot, as he turned into a dog, James was Prongs, as he turned into a stag, and Peter was, obviously, Wormtail as he was a rat. Remus was Moony, and a werewolf. They had become Animagi to keep Remus company during the full moon. That was what all the fuss was about when Remus mentioned that he had forgotten to take his potion that night. Sirius explained how they had suspected Remus was the mole, and that was why they chose Peter to be Secret Keeper. While they were speaking, Ginny remembered what Hagrid had said at Christmas, how Sirius had offered to take Harry the moment he learned James and Lily were dead. She compared this with the behavior she had seen that night and his behavior in his explanation, and came to the conclusion that Sirius Black really cared for Harry.  
  
When the two men finished, Sirius glanced over at Dumbledore. "Professor, since I'm free now, Harry could come and live with me if he wanted to, right?"  
  
Ginny's heart skipped a beat. Harry looked up sharply.  
  
_Could I?_ Harry thought. _I wouldn't be with you.  
  
You'd be with your father's best friend, _Ginny thought.  
  
_My father's, not mine._  
  
Dumbledore took his time answering. "Harry is currently living at his grandmother's house in Ottery St. Catchpole, where his aunt and cousin also reside."  
  
"I know that, that's where I found him."  
  
"Harry's aunt is in the process of finding a new home for herself and her son, and while I doubt she is planning on bringing Harry with her, she is taking her time about it. However, I do not see a reason to insist that she do, as long as he remains with his grandmother. Mrs. Evans continues to treat him better than his aunt, despite great changes in Petunia Dursley's character. But, I am afraid that Harry will need to continue living with his grandmother, rather than moving in with you Sirius."  
  
Sirius opened his mouth, as though to argue, but Dumbledore raised a hand. "I have reasons for this, Sirius, and if you will listen, you might agree. First off, you don't have a place to live. Yes, I know about your family home, but it has been sitting empty for ten years or so, and I doubt your house-elf has kept it in good shape, nor will he be glad to see you back. Second, when Lily died to save Harry, she implemented a very old magic, an old magic that requires Harry to live with his blood relatives. He is protected with blood wards, among other things, and they would expire if he did not live with his grandmother or aunt. In the event that Petunia decides to move out of her mother's house and not bring Harry with her, I will transfer the wards from her to his grandmother. All in all, Harry must remain in his grandmother's home until he is of age. The only reason he lived with his aunt and uncle so long was because Petunia had legal hold over him and did not wish to relinquish it."  
  
Sirius looked crestfallen. Remus patted his arm in a consoling way.  
  
At least I don't have to choose between you and him, Harry thought.  
  
Ginny didn't reply. She had rested one elbow on her knee, and had cupped her chin in her palm, thinking.  
  
"Mr. Black," she said finally, turning to Sirius.  
  
Sirius jumped and looked at her like she'd grown an extra head. Remus nudged him with an elbow.  
  
"Don't call me that," Sirius said, his expression showing both disgust at the name and horror to think that someone would call him that. "You'll make me think I'm in trouble. Call me Sirius."  
  
"Right, Sirius, what if instead of Harry coming to live with you, what if you came and lived with him? Or near him?"  
  
Sirius thought about it a moment. "I suppose that could work," he said. "I wouldn't want to impose on Mrs. Evans, though I'm sure she would let me stay without batting an eye, so I'd have to get a flat near there. My house in London will definitely be uninhabitable for a good long time. I stopped by it last summer and it's right wild. I do need a place to stay." Sirius glanced at Remus, who shook his head.  
  
"Sorry, but I haven't got a place for you. I–I have to start looking for a place to live during the summer."  
  
"Why haven't you got a place?" Sirius asked, a bit demanding.  
  
"I was evicted," Remus said with a wry smile. "My–my landlord decided he didn't want the liability of renting to a werewolf. Professor Dumbledore was kind enough to offer me quarters here, which is another reason I was so eager for the job."  
  
"If you do not find a place, Remus, you are welcome to continue using your quarters here," Dumbledore said. "The same goes for you, Sirius."  
  
"But, there are plenty of flats up for rent in the village near my home!" Ginny said quickly. "And, since it's a Muggle village mostly, no one will know about your lycanthropy, Professor."  
  
Professor Lupin smiled at her. "Thank you for the information, Ginny. I would like to be near Harry as well; I haven't done James and Lily much service by staying away from you, Harry."  
  
Harry smiled at their professor, albeit shyly.  
  
_Not used to this much attention, are you?  
  
You'd think I would have learned after your mum and Gram._  
  
Ginny let out a small laugh. Sirius and Remus frowned at them. "Nothing," she said, "just something he thought."  
  
The two adults exchanged looks and raised eyebrows. Ginny looked at Harry and smiled. Obviously, his newfound 'uncles' would need to get used to their connection.  
  
"I think this is all settled now," Dumbledore said, glancing out the window again; Ginny followed his gaze and saw that the sun had only just disappeared behind the mountains, leaving a red glow against the sky. The moon was nowhere in sight. "Professor Lupin, if you would escort Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter to Gryffindor tower-"  
  
"Wait!" said Harry, as Remus made to stand. "What happened at the appeal? What happened to Buckbeak?"  
  
For some reason, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Oh, well; as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I was asked to oversee the appeal, and since I happen to hold rank over the committee member that presided over it, I made sure that Buckbeak would be pardoned."  
  
Harry and Ginny's jaws dropped, then Harry whooped in glee and Ginny jumped up and hugged Dumbledore. The old wizard seemed a bit surprised, but smiled at her, rather like a grandfather, and hugged her back.  
  
"Now, off to bed," Dumbledore said when she pulled back. "Sirius, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to the Ministry, we will file the record of the trial and take Peter to the Aurors."  
  
_Aurors?_ Harry thought as they left the office.  
  
_Dark wizard hunters,_ Ginny thought back. _They handle the big stuff like mass murders and serial offenders.  
  
Got it._  
  
Remus took them back up to the tower. At the Fat Lady's portrait, he gave the password and held it open for them.  
  
"Sleep well, you two," Remus said, and, with a twinkle in his eye, added, "in different beds."  
  
Both of them turned bright red. "Professor!" Harry spluttered.  
  
Remus laughed. "Harry, you needn't call me 'Professor' in private anymore. I would much rather you called me 'Remus.'"  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny and grinned. "Could I call you Uncle Moony?" he asked, grinning.  
  
Remus turned faintly pink. "Touche, Harry. And, I suppose you could if you wanted to. Good night, Little Prongs."  
  
He shut the portrait gently. Harry grinned at Ginny.  
  
_Nice evening,_ he thought, chuckling. She laughed, shaking her head at him.  
  
_Wanna disobey Uncle Moony?_ She thought teasingly. Harry turned, if it was possible, redder. She laughed again, and kissed his cheek.  
  
_Oi! You can do better than that!  
  
Better?_ Ginny thought, raising an eyebrow at him.  
  
_Yeah, like on the lips..._ he thought, the thought trailing off into a hastily buried image of the two of them locked together in a close embrace.  
  
Ginny smiled. She gently pressed her mouth to his, letting it linger a second longer than normal.  
  
"Good night, Harry," she whispered against his lips. She turned away quickly and darted up her stairs, leaving Harry standing in the common room with a goofy grin cracking his face.  
  
The next day, the school was buzzing with the news that Sirius Black had been caught. As they prepared for leaving the following morning, students gossiped about how he had been caught, who did it, why Black let himself be captured, and other such things. It seemed Dumbledore had not yet told them Sirius was innocent. After a quick discussion with Harry, the foursome agreed to not bother telling people he was innocent, since they would find out on their own soon enough, and, to be honest, who would believe a couple of third years?  
  
However, they did not have to wait long for an explanation. Dumbledore announced at the Leaving Feast that Sirius had been found, and due to new evidence, had been proven innocent. Over the eruption of the shocked students, he said they would be able to find the whole report in the Daily Prophet the next morning. He announced that Gryffindor, thanks to the Quidditch team's spectacular performance, had won the house cup, for the third year in a row. Harry grinned across the table at Ginny, but didn't think anything because the cheers and shouts that had sprung up at their table made it hard to hear each other think.  
  
The ride back to Hogwarts the next day was interesting and eventful. Malfoy showed up at some point with Crabbe and Goyle, and, thanks to not only Tom's extensive knowledge of hexes but Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the twins' as well, ended up in the corridor with blisters, tentacles, rubbery knees, and bogeys flapping around their faces. All three were unconscious.  
  
They met her family on the platform and Harry's grandmother. Mrs. Evans greeted them with the news that she had a surprise for them, and that Aunt Petunia had decided to not leave the farm but had gotten a job in the village. Ginny hugged Harry, but did not kiss him since her parents were watching, and promised to see him the next day.  
  
All in all it had been an interesting year. Little did they know that the next would prove to be even more interesting.


	11. Summer 1994 Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know next to nothing about farming, and most farmers probably don't plant corn midsummer, but there is a method to my madness. Neither do I know that much about riding, but I love horses, so I hope that any proper riders in my reading audience will forgive my mistakes. Whether information in this chapter about farming is correct or not, it happens anyway.

****

**Eleven: Summer 1994 Part One  
  
Harry**

  
  
The summer Harry turned fourteen turned to be very eventful. Firstly, he managed to make Dudley faint with only four words (“This is Sirius Black”). Next, he just about got himself suffocated with kisses from Ginny when he told her about his grandmother's surprise.  
  
The first part of it wasn't completely wonderful. She was going to begin growing crops again, which meant he had a few more chores. She told him that before Aunt Petunia had come to her, she had decided to stop growing most of her crops because she couldn't do it by herself and didn't want to hire a couple of farm hands, but after Aunt Petunia brought her two young boys, she reconsidered. She had let the land rest the past couple years, and was ready to get cracking again. She informed him that the jobs would be split between her, Dudley, and himself. Dudley got the foul part: pigs, cows, and dealing with the bean plants she had started. Thea had an apple orchard she was going to bring back into use and a strawberry field, but due to her arthritis she'd need help from time to time. Harry got corn as his lot, and horses.  
  
“But we don't have horses,” he said as they ate their traditional lunch after she picked him up from the station, feeling confused. “Or a cow or pigs.”  
  
“We didn't before,” Gram acknowledged. “I went and bought a cow and a couple of hogs last week, and I've already got Dudley started on them. Mind you, he keeps complaining, but I hope the work will knock some sense of responsibility into him. Heck, just sense in general would be nice. I hate to criticize my own daughter, but she's spoiled the boy to the core.”  
  
Harry tried to imagine a world where Dudley wasn't fat, lazy, and a bully. It was hard to think of, but when he managed it, a grin broke his face.  
  
“And as for the horses,” Gram added, “I've taken the liberty of reserving a slot at a horse show in the village tomorrow, and we'll get a couple there. I want you to pick yours out yourself, and make sure you get one that’s strong enough to pull a plow. And do you think your friend will want a horse too? I always had horses when I was growing up, and we had them on the farm until your grandfather died, and I've always said they bring out the best in people.”  
  
_Hey, Gin, do you want a horse?_  
  
Her reply wasn't exactly a thought, per say, but more of a jumbled mix of ecstatic joy, disbelief, and a very huge “YES!”  
  
_Thought you might,_ thought Harry, smirking.  
  
_But I don't know how to ride,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_Hang on, I'll tell Gram._  
  
“Ginny would love a horse!” Harry said, grinning. “She loves them, but she doesn't know how to ride.”  
  
Gram waved a hand. “Oh, don't worry about that. I taught your mum and Petunia to ride, and both of them could have gone into professional riding if they wanted to. Right, we'll bring along Ginny tomorrow, along with Dudley and Petunia.”  
  
“Dudley wants a horse?” Harry said, frowning.  
  
“Not really, but Petunia and I agree that it would be best for him to learn. Knowing to ride a horse is a useful skill, and one that can change a body.”  
  
After they finished their lunch and headed back to the farm, Harry found Dudley out behind the house by a newly erected pigsty, shoveling muck.  
  
“Hey, Dudley,” he called. “Having fun?”  
  
Dudley dropped his shovel and made a rude gesture at him. “Just wait until Gram puts you to work! She'll work you into the ground!”  
  
“Gram has promised me I'm not a slave and I have a choice in what I do,” Harry said. “Besides, horses are cool, and I've only got one plant to take care of.”  
  
Dudley pointed to the large field south east of them. “It's not just one plant, Potter! It's a whole corn field!”  
  
“So? It can't be that hard.”  
  
And he was proven quite wrong when he finally began his chore.  
  
After they went to the horse show, where Harry picked out a large black stallion dubbed Captain, Ginny a chestnut filly called Saturn, and Aunt Petunia a gray mare the woman who sold her affectionately referred to as Darling because Dudley refused to choose for himself, they went home and had their first riding lesson. Ginny stuck around to keep practicing with Aunt Petunia, who proved to be very good, while Gram set Dudley to caring for the bean plants while she showed Harry how to begin plowing the cornfield.  
  
She had an old-fashioned iron plow, not the kind driven by a tractor, which was why he had to choose a strong horse. Captain seemed perfectly willing to pull the plow, and Harry thought it couldn't be too hard if his elderly grandmother could do it. Gram showed him how to hold it and the reigns, how to keep Captain in check while he plowed, and everything else he needed to know. The actual corn field didn't take up all the space Dudley seemed to think it would, really less than a third of the large field, but it was still quite a lot of land. It turned out that plowing was not as easy as it looked.  
  
By the time Gram was satisfied he could manage on his own and went to go tend to the strawberry field before going to make dinner, he had tugged off his tee shirt and had plowed about a quarter of the land. He was sweating profusely, and keep gulping down the water Gram had left him. Captain was sweating in the hot sun too, and Harry doubted his dark coat was helping. Several times, he stopped him and mopped him down with his tee shirt, as it was the only cloth he had around to do so. Gram told him to plow until six thirty rolled around. She said she doubted he would be done in the hour or so he had, and didn't want to find out that he had overworked himself and his new horse. He glanced at his watch every now and then, finding that time was inching by.  
  
However, plowing seemed to have a good side to it. A few weeks into it, and he was beginning to notice a changes in his physique. He had always been skinny, but after finishing plowing the corn field and starting the actual planting, he noticed his arms were much more toned, and his chest had begun to fill out. He made comments to Ginny every now and then, but she assured him that it was normal. Riding Captain helped too; he may have been a docile animal, but he was still a very powerful horse, and it required a good deal of strength to reign him in after he got going.  
  
As his fourteenth birthday approached, he stopped paying much attention to these changes. One afternoon, Harry was finishing up his chores before heading over to Sirius's flat with Ginny and Ron (he had found the flat just recently and they were going to celebrate a bit), when both Ron and Ginny came walking up to him.  
  
He was out in the strawberry field, picking ripe strawberries (Gram had a business thing she had to go to and had asked him to look after the field that afternoon) when they came. Since it was so hot out and no one was around, he had removed his shirt ages ago and had left it over by the stables.  
  
“Hey! Harry!”  
  
Harry looked up, squinting against the glare the sun left on his glasses. He saw two red blobs moving towards him, until he brought his hand up and shielded his eyes. The two blobs turned into Ginny and Ron. He waved to them, grabbed the bucket of strawberries, and stood.  
  
They had reached the edge of the field, and Ginny stopped suddenly. Ron kept walking for a few steps, then turned to see why his sister had stopped.  
  
She was still a few feet from him, but he could see the stunned look on her face. He remembered with a jolt that his shirt was still in the stables, and felt his face go red. However, he was still able to tease his girlfriend.  
  
_Like what you see?_ Harry thought, managing a grin.  
  
Ginny stepped forward, her eyes a darker shade of brown than normal, and grinned back at him.  
  
_Immensely,_ she thought. She raised a hand, and laid her palm on his bare chest.  
  
“Oi!” Ron yelled, but by his tone Harry heard that he was more amused than annoyed. “No feeling up in front of me!”  
  
“Oh, does that mean we can do it behind your back?” Ginny asked innocently. Ron turned as red as his hair.  
  
_Hey, I haven't got objections if you don't,_ Harry thought, still grinning.  
  
_Oh, you know I don't_. Ginny smirked at him. Then, aloud, she added, “Come on, Harry, Sirius is expecting us.”  
  
After a hasty shower and a replacing of clothing, they started towards the village. Ron rolled his eyes and pretended to retch into one of Gram's flower beds when Harry took Ginny's hand. Ginny smacked Ron on the arm.  
  
At Sirius's new flat, they found not only Harry's beaming godfather, but Remus, and a young witch with vibrant blue hair, as well.  
  
“We have news for you,” Remus said as they stepped inside.  
  
“What's up?” Harry asked, dropping into a chair.  
  
“You know how every Defense teacher has only ever lasted a year?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ginny said, pulling up a chair by Harry. “People say the job's jinxed.”  
  
“Well,” Remus said, drawing in a long breath. “Jinx's over. I'm staying as the Defense Teacher.”  
  
Harry clapped Remus on the shoulder, grinning. Ginny jumped up and hugged Remus around the neck, who laughed and hugged her back. Ron cheered through the mouthful of food he had managed to accumulate already.  
  
“Well done, Moony,” Sirius said. “Now, party time! By the way, kids, this is my second cousin, Nymph—”  
  
“Oh, no you don't!” Sirius's cousin snapped, tugging out her wand. “You're not calling me that!”  
  
“Nymphadora,” Sirius finished with a smirk. “But she hates that name so call her Tonks.”  
  
“And this is what will happen if you do call me that,” Tonks said. A blink later, Sirius's face was bright, neon green, he had tentacles sprouting from his nose, and his eyebrows had grown to three times their length and bushiness. Sirius yelped, and Remus hastily remedied the jinx. Harry, Ginny, and Ron burst out laughing, and Remus chuckled as he removed it.  
  
“Tonks is an Auror,” Remus said. “So when she says don't do something, it's generally good for your sanity and your health that you take her advice.”  
  
“Damn right,” Tonks grumbled.  
  
“You know I'll get you back for that, cuz,” Sirius said warningly.  
  
“I know,” Tonks said, tucking her wand into the waistband of her jeans. Harry noticed Remus's eyes following the wand along its path, and the slight flush that came up the back of his neck. Or rather, Ginny noticed it and reported it to him. “But I didn't go through years of Auror training for nothing.”  
  
“Tonks has decided to share the flat with us,” Remus said. "She's his 'parole officer.' And at the moment, Sirius's bank accounts are frozen until Pettigrew is convicted and I don't have very much even though I've got a steady job so she'll be paying most of the rent until we have enough.”  
  
“And when they do, they'll be paying me back,” Tonks said.  
  
“Of course,” Sirius said with a scoff. “What kind of men do you take us for?”  
  
Tonks did not reply, but — as he noted rather than Ginny — gave Remus a look that Harry had sometimes seen on Ginny's when she was looking at him.  
  
They spent a few hours at Sirius's flat, laughing and talking, discussing the new term and occasionally Harry's parents. Somehow the topic of Harry as a baby came up, and Harry was as red as any Weasley head as Remus and Sirius told embarrassing tale after tale of Harry's baby years. By the time they headed home, Ginny had serious teasing material on Harry and he was worried that his face would be red for the rest of his life.  
  
The next week was the formal hearing to convict Pettigrew. Everyone who had been in the Shack the night they found Sirius was asked to attend, and Hermione — who was traveling with her parents — came back from France for the hearing.  
  
Gram drove Harry to the Burrow to get Ginny and Ron, then to Sirius and Remus's flat to pick them and Tonks up. The drive to the Ministry was long, but Gram wanted to try out the new van Petunia had bought as a thank-you gift. Of course, there was also the matter of Sirius not supposed to use any kind of magic until after the hearing. It had been decided that since Sirius couldn't travel by Floo, none of them would. Except Hermione, but that was only because she was in France.  
  
Sirius and Tonks squabbled like kids over who would get to ride up front, but in the end, Ron got the front seat, Harry and Ginny in the short bench in the middle, and the three adults got squashed in the back seat, with Tonks in between the two men since she was the shortest of the three. Remus looked somehow disgruntled and pleased for a moment, but hastily stifled it. Tonks did much less to hide her look of glee at the thought of being smushed next to Remus, and Sirius grumbled about it the entire time. Ginny and Harry exchanged amused looks, Ginny letting out a giggle that Ron questioned her about.  
  
The hearing was to begin at ten that morning but unfortunately they had to be there by nine. And since London was about four hours away they had to leave very early that morning, at half past 4 a.m. Ron was quickly snoring in time with the radio, Ginny was curled up on the bench tucked under Harry's arm, Sirius's cheek rested on the window with his mouth hanging open, and Tonks was leaning on Remus. Remus and Harry were still awake; Harry because he didn't want to sleep and Remus because — Harry suspected — Tonks was asleep on his shoulder. Gram was humming along with the radio, rain pattered on the roof of the van and splattered the windows, and the windshield wipers swished over the windshield rhythmically. Harry's head drooped onto Ginny's. Gram hummed the soothing hymn that was playing. Ginny's weight warmed his body. Gram gave him a kind, grandmotherly smile in the rear-view mirror. His eyes fluttered shut.  
  
The left side of his body was uncomfortably lit up. Harry cracked open one eye, and shut it quickly. The sun hung just above the horizon at the corner of the window, staring him down menacingly. The rain had stopped. He sat up; his back felt stiff and his side hurt from leaning over. That was odd; Ginny had been holding him up when he fell asleep. He glanced down and found out why: Ginny had shifted, and now lay on the bench with her head in his lap. Harry ran one hand down her silky hair, and looked around the car. Ron was still asleep but both Sirius and Tonks had woken up. Tonks had pulled out a book and was reading, Sirius look only half awake and was looking out the window. Remus had a thick textbook on his lap and his hand rested on a bound notebook, holding a pen, but his eyes were on Tonks, who seemed aware of attention and amused by it.  
  
Harry looked towards the front of the car; Gram had changed the station and now Muggle rock music was coming from the speakers, but quietly.  
  
“You all right, love?” Gram asked him suddenly.  
  
“Fine,” Harry said. “Why?”  
  
“You look like you've seen a ghost,” Gram said. “It might be your girl in your lap, but you're white as a sheet.”  
  
“I'm fine,” Harry said again with a grateful smile. He saw Remus looking up in the rear-view mirror, and moved his gaze down to Ginny.  
  
The light from the dawn drew veins of gold and copper in her red hair, lit up the freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, and gleamed on her long eyelashes. The corners of her mouth were turned down and her eyebrows knotted together. Harry ran another hand through her hair, letting the soft strands run through his fingers. Ginny shifted, moving from her side to her back, and her face relaxed. The sunlight hit her cream and blue flower patterned shirt, putting emphasis on her gentle, young curves. Harry rested his head against the seat, letting his eyes shut again.  
  
“We'll be stopping for breakfast soon,” Gram said. “Next exit.”  
  
Harry nodded, eyes still closed. The hum of the engine was enough to lure him back to sleep, but the music was counter-acting that. He cracked open one eye and turned it to the digital clock above the radio. Quarter to seven. Gram flicked the turn signal and changed lanes.  
  
“Where should we eat?” Gram called.  
  
“Anywhere with coffee,” Sirius called back. Gram let out a laugh, and glanced over at Ron. She reached over, and poked him in the shoulder. Ron grunted and turned aside.  
  
“Wakey wakey mister,” Gram said. “Where do you want to eat breakfast at?”  
  
At the mention of breakfast, Ron sat up groggily. “Bacon and eggs,” he mumbled, and flopped back over. The car at large all chuckled.  
  
Harry bent over and brought his mouth close to Ginny's ear — she had shifted again —. “Wake up, Gin. Breakfast is in a minute.”  
  
Ginny groaned and flapped a hand vaguely. Harry leaned closer and pressed his mouth to her cheek. She smiled, and opened one eye.  
  
“I like it much better when you wake me up than when my brothers do,” she said. He grinned and sat up. Ginny stayed with her head in his lap; her lips parted in a yawn. “So what's this about breakfast?”  
  
“Where should we go?”  
  
“We've got a drive in place, but their coffee's bound to be rubbish,” Gram said as she pulled off the highway. “There's a couple of diners, and a Waffle House.”  
  
“Not Waffle House,” Remus, Tonks, and Sirius said loudly.  
  
“Not Waffle House,” Gram said, smiling with mirth. “Which diner, then?”  
  
“The closest one,” Ginny said.  
  
“Uncle Sam's it is,” Gram said, moving into the turn lane.  
  
After a quick breakfast, Gram filled up the car and they got back on the highway. Ginny took out the book she'd brought and set to reading. Ron, Harry, Gram, and Sirius played a game called Twenty Questions, where one person thought of an animal, vegetable, or mineral and the others tried to guess it with only twenty questions. Remus kept going through his text book and Tonks listened to the game while watching Remus out of the corner of her eye. After they got bored of Twenty Questions, Sirius 'borrowed' Tonks' book, and read it aloud to the car, fighting to keep Tonks from snatching it the entire time. It turned out to be one of those cheesy romance novels women read, called The Angel and the Rogue. After Tonks wrestled it back from him, she hit Sirius over the head with it almost hard enough to knock him unconscious. After that, he didn't touch her stuff.  
  
They pulled up to the Ministry entrance at quarter to nine. Gram dropped them all off while she went to find a parking space, and Tonks led them inside to wait for her. About twenty minutes later, she walked in and looked around at the high ceiling atrium in wonder. They met Hermione and her father at the Floo gates, and left for the trial.  
  
They took the elevator to the ninth floor, then down a set of stairs to the courtrooms. Tonks escorted Sirius away while the rest of them took their seats in the stands, and then returned to stand at the back of the courtroom. Men and women in purple robes slowly filled two thirds of the stands. A stand almost like a pulpit at the forefront of the courtroom held Minster Fudge and two others as the clock ticked closer and closer to ten. On the left side of the pulpit, Professor Dumbledore sat with his hands folded. Ginny slipped her hand into Harry's. He gave her a grateful smile. He couldn't help but be worried: What if the members of the Wizengamot didn't agree with Dumbledore and put Sirius back in Azkaban?  
  
_It'll turn out all right,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_I hope so._  
  
A gavel banged, interrupting their thoughts. Harry turned his gaze to the judge or whatever the wizarding equivalent of a judge was called.  
  
“I hereby bring this court meeting into order,” called Minister Fudge. “This is the formal hearing of Sirius Black vs. the Justice System —”  
  
“Your Honor that is incorrect,” said a burly woman next to him. “This is the criminal trial of Peter Pettigrew.”  
  
“Oh, yes, thank you Madam Bones,” Fudge said very ungratefully. “Criminal trial of Pettigrew, yes. Presiding Official Minister for Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Court Official for the Prosecution Madam Amelia Bones,” he gestured to the woman who had corrected him. “Official for the Defense Sir Lenard King,” he pointed to a weedy man beside him. “Bring in the defendant.”  
  
A set of double doors opened into the hall, and a pair of guards in Ministry uniforms led Peter into the hall. His wrists were bound by heavy metal shackles as were his ankles. The guards led him to the single chair in the middle of the floor and pushed him into it. Chains sprung from the arms of the chair and bound him to it.  
  
“Please state your name and date of birth,” Fudge called.  
  
“Peter Raymond Pettigrew,” Peter said, “June 5th 1958.”  
  
_58? But wasn't he in the same year as my parents?_ Harry thought.  
  
_Maybe he was held back,_ Ginny replied.  
  
“You have been charged with treason, multiple murders, and aiding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in at least two murders,” Fudge said. “What do you plead?”  
  
“I was threatened!” Peter whined. “He would have killed me!”  
  
“What do you plead?” Fudge repeated, waving a hand at a guard. The guard pulled out a vial of something, moved forward and said something to Peter. The rodent-like man grimaced, but a moment later took the vial and sipped from it. Peter sagged in his chair.  
  
“Guilty,” Peter mumbled.  
  
“You confessed to Professor Albus Dumbledore to be guilty of betraying James and Lily Potter's location to You-Know-Who,” Fudge said. “At the time of that confession, were you persuaded, threatened, or forced in any way?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I hand the interrogation to Madam Bones,” Fudge said, leaning back in his chair. Madam Bones rose from her chair and placed a monocle in her eye.  
  
“Peter Pettigrew, what caused you to change allegiances to You-Know-Who?” she said in a gruff voice.  
  
“I was recruited to spy on James Potter in my seventh year and try to recruit him for the Dark Lord's cause,” Peter said. “When James married Lily, my master told me to keep tabs on the both of them.”  
  
“Who recruited you?”  
  
“I was originally brought into the Dark Lord's ranks and commanded by a man called Rowle.”  
  
“Originally? What changed?”  
  
“Rowle did not have a strong enough hold over the school,” Peter said, “so I was told to work with Severus Snape and to report to Lucius Malfoy, who was in the process of becoming a governor for the school.”  
  
“In addition to betraying the Potters and killing twelve Muggles to fake your death, what crimes did you commit under You-Know-Who's orders?”  
  
“Not many,” Peter confessed. “I was mainly a spy. But I did help with four raids on the Hogsmeade village.”  
  
“What did you do on those raids?”  
  
“I stole money from the stores and captured people for the Dark Lord's ranks.”  
  
“Did you kill or torture anyone?”  
  
“I killed a shopkeeper,” Peter said. “And tortured his sister.”  
  
“What were their names?”  
  
“Martin and Heidi Fortescue. Martin owned a jewelry store and Heidi worked for him.”  
  
“Thank you, Peter. I am finished questioning you.”  
  
“Does the defense have any questions for the defendant?” Fudge asked.  
  
Sir King stood up. “Peter, if you were to refuse Rowle when he recruited you, what would have happened to you?”  
  
“I'm not sure,” Peter said. “I didn't ask.”  
  
“And if you tried to leave the Dark Lord's ranks?”  
  
“They would have killed me.”  
  
“Were you threatened or forced to commit the crimes you confessed to?”  
  
“At first, I was told that if I tried to refuse any assignments I was given, I would be punished severely. But after a while, I wasn't so opposed to what they were asking me to do so I didn't try to refuse.”  
  
“But you were threatened?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“When you killed Martin Fortescue, did you do that out of your free will, or were you ordered to?”  
  
“I was ordered to take everything of value from Fortescue's shop and to kill anyone who stood in my way.”  
  
“And Martin Fortescue fought you?”  
  
“Well, no, he was willing but his sister was not compliant. So I killed Martin to get her to obey me.”  
  
What's King trying to do? Harry thought.  
  
Probably make sure Peter gets the lowest sentence possible.  
  
“Who ordered you to?”  
  
“The leader of the raid, Dolohov.”  
  
“Did anyone help you rob Martin Fortescue, kill him, or torture his sister?”  
  
“I was aided by another Death Eater, a woman younger than me called Veronica.”  
  
“What was Veronica's surname?”  
  
“I don't know.”  
  
“You said you were recruited in your seventh year. When did you begin doing field work for the Death Eaters?”  
  
“When I graduated from Hogwarts.”  
  
“What was the nature of your spying on James Potter?”  
  
“To see if he would be a threat to the Dark Lord's cause.”  
  
“Not to kill him?”  
  
“Not until after Severus Snape overheard part of a prophecy concerning the Dark Lord and —”  
  
“Your Honor, the nature of that prophecy is irrelevant,” Professor Dumbledore cut off Peter. Ginny frowned, and Harry felt suspicion rise in her.  
  
“Noted,” Minister Fudge said. “Pettigrew, comply with Professor Dumbledore's request.”  
  
Peter looked confused. “Um, okay.”  
  
“Sir King, you may continue.”  
  
“When did you begin looking for an opportunity to kill James Potter?”  
  
“In the spring of 1981.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Objection,” Dumbledore said.  
  
“I will let the question stand,” Fudge said.  
  
“Because of the prophecy I mentioned,” Peter said.  
  
“You did not give James's location to the Dark Lord because of any personal feelings?”  
  
“No. I was sad that James, Lily, and Harry had to die, but my Lord commanded me to betray them.”  
  
_Wait — all three of us had to die?  
  
We'll ask Dumbledore after the trial._  
  
“What would have happened if you refused?”  
  
“The Dark Lord would have tortured it out of me.”  
  
“So you were forced?”  
  
“Not exactly,” Peter said.  
  
“Then why did you do it?” Madam Bones asked. Sir King gave her an annoyed look.  
  
“The question stands,” Fudge said before King could protest.  
  
“I did it because I wanted to obey the Dark Lord; I believed he was right and he promised me great rewards.”  
  
Sir King sat down and hung his head. “I'm finished,” he said shortly.  
  
“I would like to call Sirius Black to the witness stand,” Madam Bones said.  
  
“Bring in Sirius Black,” Fudge said. Ginny noticed a note of anger in his voice.  
  
A guard went through the double doors, and returned with Sirius. Harry crossed his fingers. Another guard retracted the chains holding Peter in place and took him to the back of the room. Sirius sat down in the chair, and threw Harry a wink.  
  
“Please state your name and date of birth,” Madam Bones said.  
  
“Sirius Cademus Black, November third, 1959.”  
  
“You were convicted without a trial for the crimes committed by Peter Pettigrew, is this correct?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Please tell the court how Peter Pettigrew became the Secret Keeper for James and Lily Potter instead of you.”  
  
“When we were told that Voldemort —” there was a collective intact of breath from the Wizengamot members, Sirius ignored them, “— personally wanted James and Lily dead, Dumbledore advised them to use the Fidelius Charm and offered to be their Secret Keeper, but James wanted to make me Secret Keeper. But I thought that I would be obvious to everyone, so I begged him to choose Peter. We knew someone was leaking secrets to Voldemort, but we thought at the time that it was Remus. James agreed with me and they made Peter Secret Keeper. A week later, they were dead. I went to find Peter, and he claimed that I had betrayed James. Then he blasted the street, cut off his finger, and changed into his Animagus form and escaped.”  
  
“Professor Dumbledore made us aware of the fact that you, Pettigrew, and James Potter were all unregistered Animagi,” Madam Bones said. “When did you become Animagi?”  
  
“Our fifth year at Hogwarts,” Sirius answered.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Beside Harry, Remus stiffened. Gram, who was on his other side, patted his shoulder.  
  
“Madam, if you wouldn't mind, the reason is irrelevant,” Sirius said.  
  
Madam Bones frowned. “Why did you become Animagi, Mr. Black?”  
  
“It concerns the personal affairs of someone very close to me and I would rather not say it for the entire court to hear.”  
  
“He is correct,” Professor Dumbledore said. Madam Bones sighed.  
  
“Very well. Then please tell the court how you escaped from Azkaban.”  
  
“When the Dementors opened my cell to give me food one day, I transformed and slipped past them.”  
  
“Your Animagus form is a dog, correct?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And what is Mr. Pettigrew's?”  
  
“A rat.”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Black. I have no further questions.”  
  
“Does the defense have any questions for the witness?” Fudge asked. Sir King nodded, and stood.  
  
“What made you suspect Remus Lupin of being the spy rather than Mr. Pettigrew?” he asked.  
  
“Because we knew there was a spy, but the only one close to James and Lily who was acting remotely oddly was Remus,” Sirius said. “Peter was just being his normal fidgety ratty self.”  
  
“In what way was Mr. Lupin acting oddly?”  
  
“He kept asking when meetings were when he already knew, what was going on, who was on patrol where, stuff like that.”  
  
“Meetings?”  
  
“Of the Order of the Phoenix,” Sirius said.  
  
“That would be the organization formed by Albus Dumbledore to resist He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, correct?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And Mr. Pettigrew did not ask many suspicious questions?”  
  
“Well, no.”  
  
“So it is plausible to think that he did not wish to report the group's every move, nor Mr. Potter's?”  
  
“If you want to look at it that way, yes,” Sirius answered. “But Peter is a better actor than you'd think. Yes, he did not ask suspicious questions, but he did ask questions. Just not about the group.”  
  
“Only questions that concerned James Potter?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Sir Lenard bent and made a note on a stack of papers in front of him. “The defense has no further questions.”  



	12. Summer 1994 Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Twelve: Summer 1994 Part Two  
  
Harry**

  
  
“The prosecution would like to call Professor Dumbledore to the stand,” Madam Bones said. A guard moved forward and escorted Sirius back out the double doors as Dumbledore complied with Madam Bones' request and moved towards the chair.  
  
“Please state your name and date of birth for the record, Professor,” Madam Bones said.  
  
“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” the professor said. “Born the 21st of April, in 1844.”  
  
“You were a high-ranking official of the Wizengamot at the time of these crimes,” Madam Bones said. “You called for Sirius Black to have a trial, but were over-ruled by Bartemius Crouch, then Presiding Court Official; I am correct?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Why did you call for Sirius Black's trial?”  
  
“I believed there to be more to the case than was apparent.”  
  
“And what fueled this belief?”  
  
“Sirius Black is a very loyal person,” Dumbledore said calmly. “He was very against everything Lord Voldemort stood for: Pureblood superiority, Muggle segregation, especially the Dark Arts. I am a very hard person to trick, and I had my eye on Sirius in case he altered his mindset and began to appreciate Voldemort's ideals.”  
  
“So you thought it possible he could turn his loyalty from his previous views on the Dark Lord's cause?” Sir King asked hastily. Madam Bones opened her mouth, but Fudge laid a hand on her arm, and she sat back, apparently grudgingly.  
  
_Look at Dumbledore,_ Ginny thought.  
  
Harry moved his gaze to study Dumbledore's face. The old professor was obviously thinking over the question, but his eyes were narrowed and his brow furrowed.  
  
“I thought it a remote possibility,” Dumbledore said. “I wished to be prepared for anything.”  
  
“You took your time answering,” Sir King said.  
  
“Yes. However, that does not change my answer.”  
  
“What then —”  
  
“Objection,” Madam Bones said. “It is the prosecution's turn to interview the witness.”  
  
“Sustained,” Fudge said.  
  
Sir King looked irritated, but he leaned back in his chair and turned to look at Madam Bones.  
  
“The prosecution may continue.”  
  
“Why were you watching Sirius Black rather than Peter Pettigrew?” Madam Bones asked.  
  
“Peter was not the most courageous of people,” Dumbledore said. “Nor the smartest.” Harry glanced at Ginny, and followed her gaze to Peter, standing with his guards and looking ahead blankly.  
  
_What's the matter with him?_ Harry thought.  
  
_They probably gave him Veratiserum; it puts you in a sort of trance and you can't lie,_ Ginny answered.  
  
Harry nodded and tuned his ears back to Dumbledore. “But despite that, he admired James Potter to the point of hero worship. I think perhaps he was smitten with the idea of everything James was: Popular, handsome, clever, and good on the Quidditch field. I was worried at first that that admiration could turn to jealousy, but as time went on and Peter continued to fawn over James and his accomplishments, that worry lessened. I grew complacent in thinking that Peter was satisfied with admiring his friend, and failed to notice when he changed allegiances.”  
  
“So you never noticed him gaining a Death Eater's point of view?” Madam Bones asked. “You never saw him sneering at Muggles or Muggle-Borns, or any sadistic actions, or any of that?”  
  
“If he did take pleasure in the pain of others, he did not show it in front of me.”  
  
“But anything else related to a Death Eater's actions?”  
  
“After he graduated Hogwarts, he did begin working at a shop in Knockturn Alley,” Dumbledore said. “When asked about it, he would say it was his only option, or that he was watching Death Eaters buying dark objects.”  
  
“Was that all?”  
  
“No. In addition to that, he began to suggest more and more offensive plans at Order meetings. Things that would end in greater casualties on our side.”  
  
“So you think he was attempting to thin out the numbers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's opposition?”  
  
“It is possible,” said Dumbledore.  
  
“That is not the question I asked,” Madam Bones boomed. “What did you think of his suggestions?”  
  
“I thought that it was odd of him,” Dumbledore said. “But it did not appear to me as traitorous at the time. In fact, when he would suggest the plans, it was not immediately obvious that our side would suffer losses at the end of those plans. They were of a level of subtlety not possessed by him.”  
  
“You think he was getting the plans from a Death Eater?”  
  
“I thought nothing of it,” he replied. “At that time, I thought he was simply trying to help but not thinking through what he was suggesting.”  
  
“Would you please tell the Court what Peter Pettigrew said to you the night he was captured?” Madam Bones asked.  
  
“Word for word?” Dumbledore asked.  
  
“That is not necessary, but if you can remember it word for word that would certainly be helpful.”  
  
“When I asked if he had been James and Lily's Secret Keeper rather than Sirius, he admitted that that he had been. He then confessed that he had been passing information to Voldemort for a while, while making up excuses as to why he had been.”  
  
“What was your impression of him?”  
  
“That I was observing a desperate man trying to wheedle his way out of punishment.”  
  
“That was your honest opinion?”  
  
“It still is.”  
  
“Thank you, Professor. The prosecution is finished.”  
  
_How long is this going to go on?_ Harry thought.  
  
_A while. What do you think of Sir King?  
  
King? That he's fighting a lost cause.  
  
Did you notice that he called Voldemort 'the Dark Lord' instead of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?  
  
Yeah, so?  
  
How many people have you heard call Voldemort that?  
  
Peter, Snape,_ Harry thought, scanning his memory. _Not many.  
  
And how many of those were Death Eaters?  
  
All of them except Snape, but he's just evil.  
  
I think he was a Death Eater at some point, but that's not it. Why would Sir King say Dark Lord?  
  
Um..._  
  
“Does the Defense have any questions for the witness?” Fudge asked almost lazily.  
  
“No, sir,” King said, looking through his papers.  
  
_And remember he said 'cause.' He called what Voldemort was doing a cause. Peter said that earlier, but I've never heard someone else call it a cause.  
  
So?  
  
What if Sir King is a Death Eater? Or was sympathetic to Voldemort?_  
  
“Then you may return to your seat, Professor. Madam Bones, do you have another witness to call?”  
  
“Yes, I would like to call Harry Potter to the stand.”  
  
Harry sat up straight quickly. _They want to talk to me? Why?  
  
That's why we're here; get going! Don't get them annoyed._  
  
Harry stood up and made his way down the steps to the main floor. He walked on unsteady feet to the chair and sat down slowly. He looked up to Fudge and the two beside him; they looked a lot more intimidating from here.  
  
“Please state your full name and date of birth,” Madam Bones said.  
  
“Harry James Potter,” he said. “July 31st, 1980.”  
  
“You were there when Professor Dumbledore took Pettigrew's confession?”  
  
“Yes,” he answered.  
  
“What was your impression of Peter Pettigrew when you first met him?”  
  
“Er,” Harry said. “That he was kind of pathetic and whiny.”  
  
There were a few chuckles throughout the court. A corner of Madam Bones' lip twitched, but she kept it in place. “And your reaction when you learned that Peter had betrayed your parents rather than Mr. Black?”  
  
“I was shocked, sort of,” he said. He really hadn't expected to be called to the stand and was therefore completely unprepared. “And then a little disgusted by the way he kept groveling and whining to Dumbledore.”  
  
“What punishment do you think he deserves?”  
  
“Why are you asking me?” Harry said.  
  
Madam Bones' eyebrows rose. Harry felt a little more self-conscious in the single chair.  
  
“Because it was your parents he betrayed, Mr. Potter. Please answer the question.”  
  
“Er, forty or so years in Azkaban?”  
  
“It was recommended to the court that we sentence him to life,” Madam Bones said. “You disagree?”  
  
“Er, yes.”  
  
“You do not seem sure.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“And why do you think this?”  
  
“Well, I think that life in that place is too much for anyone.” He hadn't ever been to Azkaban, but Mr. Weasley had, and Ginny had told him what Mr. Weasley had said when he got home. The place was disturbing to even think of.  
  
“Anyone? Even the man you brought about the deaths of your parents?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Madam Bones adjusted her monocle and looked down at him with an unreadable expression.  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Potter. The prosecution is finished.”  
  
“Does the defense have any questions?”  
  
“No, sir.”  
  
“You may return to your seat, Mr. Potter.”  
  
Harry stood up and walked back up to the stands where his group sat. Ginny took his hand as he sat down, and leaned her head on his shoulder. He gave her a smile.  
  
_Why did you say forty years?_ She thought.  
  
Harry shrugged. _Like I said, life is too much for anyone._  
  
Ginny smiled warmly at him. _What?_ He thought.  
  
_Nothing,_ she thought back. _I just think you're amazing.  
  
I thought I was a thick goose?  
  
That too,_ she thought with a giggle. Harry grinned at her and turned his eyes back to the pulpit.  
  
“Does either the defense or the prosecution have any witnesses to call to the stand?” Fudge said.  
  
“The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”  
  
“As does the defense,” Sir King said. He looked hopeless.  
  
“Very well; we will adjourn while the court makes its decision.”  
  
The group stood and made its way out of the stands into the hallway beyond. There they met Sirius, Tonks, and Dumbledore waiting for them.  
  
“So, anyone hungry?” Ron said.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes, the adults smiled, and Hermione muttered “Ronald,” under her breath irritatedly.  
  
“I could eat,” Sirius said. Harry checked his watch, it was indeed past noon.  
  
“There's a cafeteria on the first floor,” Tonks said. “How about we feed the little ones while we wait for the recess to end?” She ruffled Sirius' hair as she said this; Harry took it to mean she was referring to her cousin when she said 'little ones.'  
  
They agreed and made their way towards the first floor, which was above them funnily enough. During lunch, Hermione took that opportunity to begin chatting with Ginny about France, and soon the two of them were discussing French alchemists and other boring historic stuff. Gram got to talking with Remus and Tonks about dueling and Auror stuff. Ron and Sirius were discussing the upcoming Quidditch World Cup final. Harry listened in.  
  
“... but Lynch isn't quite world class,” Sirius said dolefully. “America almost won their match with Ireland back in March because he was too busy watching the female players instead of the snitch.”  
  
“But they've got the best Chasers in Britain!” Ron said. “Bulgaria doesn't stand a chance!”  
  
“That's true for the most part,” Sirius acknowledged.  
  
“The most part?” Harry jumped in.  
  
“Well, as long as they keep their focus on the game they're superb,” Sirius said. “But Troy gets distracted too easily.”  
  
“Hey, everybody listen up!” Tonks said above the chatter at their table. Conversations halted and they all turned to look at her. “Mr. Weasley said to tell you guys that he’s taking his family and us somewhere tomorrow. I’m not allowed to tell you what it is. I wanted to say this now because otherwise, I’ll forget. Carry on.”  
  
Despite pestering from almost everyone, Tonks refused to say what was happening the next day. So conversations resumed.  
  
After they finished their sandwiches (or salad in Hermione and Tonks' case), they headed back down to the ninth floor. The Wizengamot weren't ready for them yet, so they waited outside and kept talking. Harry sat down by the wall and just listened to the different conversations. Hermione was telling Ginny about a museum she'd visited with her parents — the Love? Lurve? Something like that — and about this famous painting called the Mona Lisa. Ginny seemed interested, but Harry was never the biggest fan of art, so he let his attention fade and rested his head against the wall.  
  
They were called back in about twenty minutes later. Sirius, this time, came to sit with them but Tonks resumed her place at the back of the room. Harry took his seat between Ginny and his grandmother and leaned his elbows on his knees to wait.  
  
The red robed Wizengamot sat at attention; all eyes rested on Minister Fudge. He was in quiet discussion with Sir King and Madam Bones. Finally, he turned his gaze from the two to Pettigrew, sitting chained in the single chair.  
  
“Peter Pettigrew, you were charged with high treason against the Ministry of Magic, the murder of one wizard and twelve Muggles, the torturing of Heidi Fortescue, and aiding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with two murders. You pleaded guilty to all of these counts under the threat of torture. The recommended sentence is forty years to life.” Fudge cleared his throat and moved his gaze to the Wizengamot members. “Will the Wizengamot present their verdict?”  
  
A tall man with a slight pot-belly rose from his seat. He handed a slip of paper to a guard, who brought it to Fudge. Fudge slit it open with a thin silver letter opener.  
  
“Peter Pettigrew, you have been found guilty and sentenced to fifty years in Azkaban, with a chance to parole in thirty years. Sirius Black, the man —” Fudge paused a moment before contemptuously spoke his next word — “wrongly arrested and punished for the death of the twelve Muggles and the death of James and Lily Potter, has been cleared of all charges.”  
  
Peter gave a moan and bent over in sobs. It seemed the truth potion that kept him calm had worn off. Sirius gave a whoop and grabbed Harry and Remus in a hug, catching Ginny too by accident. Harry grinned at his godfather; Sirius let go of them and planted a kiss on Ginny's cheek, then on Gram's. Gram looked amused and Ginny looked startled.  
  
_How come they gave him parole?_ Ginny thought after recovering.  
  
_I don't know,_ Harry thought back.  
  
Minister Fudge banged his gavel and said over Peter's sobs, “The case is closed. Spectators and witnesses, please wait until the Wizengamot has left the courtroom to leave.”  
  
So they waited. Peter was led from the hall flanked by six guards, with Tonks trailing them and then the Wizengamot filed out. As soon as they were gone Harry's group got up and cheerfully followed.  
  
“We shall have dinner at the most expensive restaurant I can find!” Sirius crowed gleefully. “I wish to waste my parents’ ludicrous amounts of money on frivolous pastries and succulent steaks!”  
  
“Now, hold your hippogriffs, Padfoot,” Remus said with a chuckle. “I know you want to celebrate but before you go 'wasting' your money, you ought to check that you are still filthy rich.”  
  
Sirius adopted a thoughtful face. “Yes, that might be a good idea,” he said. Harry, Ron, and Ginny sniggered. “To Diagon Alley!” Sirius cried. “I insist you all accompany me, and after I assure Moony that I am still quite wealthy, I will buy you all something that is very nice and very expensive and then dinner!”  
  
Remus rolled his eyes.  
  
“Sirius, that isn't necessary,” Mrs. Evans said. “It's very kind of you but —”  
  
“No, Mrs. Evans, I insist. In fact, if you spurn my advances I shall pout and throw a tantrum. And then buy you something anyway.”  
  
“Well, nothing really expensive,” Ginny said. “You need that money.”  
  
“The last time I visited the family vault, my dear, there was at least one million galleons piled up by the front door,” Sirius said. “And by now my father's investments will have made it one billion. If I don't spend it on something, it will all rust.”  
  
Ginny blinked. “Oh,” she said, intelligently.  
  
_You shut up, Potter.  
  
What?  
  
I am smarter than you with one hand tied behind my back.  
  
I know!  
  
So shut up._  
  
Harry sighed. “Yes ma'am,” he muttered. She liked it when he obeyed with a simple 'Yes ma'am.' Ginny smiled and took his hand. The others glanced around in confusion, then all seemed to get it at the same time. Ron and Hermione exchanged their 'Telepathy' look, and Ginny grinned.  
  
“So, you planning to celebrate?” Tonks said, walking up.  
  
Sirius threw an arm around her shoulders. “My dear cousin, of course, we are! I'm buying you a gift, what do you want?”  
  
“Anything you’d like to give me, for any amount of money,” Tonks said, “considering how long I spent putting up with yours and Remus’s crap.”  
  
Ginny and Ron made a Floo call to their mother to let her know Sirius was taking them to dinner but left out the bit about the gifts, as Mrs. Weasley was likely to refuse, and that would do no good as Sirius was intent on buying something for them anyway. Tonks spoke with Molly a bit, then whispered something in Gram’s ear, who nodded understandingly. Gram took Hermione to a pay phone outside the Ministry so she could inform her parents, and then they all Floo'ed to Diagon Alley. Gram and Tonks offered to take the teens for ice cream and to peruse shops so they'd have an idea of what they wanted to get but Sirius said Harry needed to come with them. Which meant that Ginny came too.  
  
“Guess you and Hermione get to go on a date,” Ginny teased her brother. She ducked his swinging fists and, laughing, ran towards Gringotts with Harry in tow.  
  
“Why did we have to come?” Harry asked Sirius as they mounted the marble steps.  
  
“As your magically legal guardian, I thought it best we take stock of the Potter vault,” Sirius said. “And I wouldn't want to do that without you. Anyway, it's time you learned.”  
  
“Learned what?”  
  
“When a wizard becomes mature enough, his father usually takes him to the family vaults and teaches him about the family business if there is one, money, investments, things like that,” Remus said. “Most boys learn at sixteen or fifteen, but you show remarkable maturity for your age and such deserve the opportunity to know.”  
  
“How long will it take?” Harry asked.  
  
“We won't go over all of it today,” Sirius said. “Just what we can only do at Gringotts. I don't even know how many investment your parents had and I doubt your aunt would want to do this or even know how. So, it is up to me and Moony.”  
  
They had reached entry hall. Sirius glanced around and found a goblin who was not occupied and approached him. The goblin looked up slowly and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“My name is Sirius Black,” Sirius said with a smile. “You don't need to call the guards, I was cleared this afternoon,” he added as the goblin raised a hand to gesture for a guard. “I will wait while you verify that.”  
  
The goblin had already stood up and hurried down the hall. An unusually large goblin stepped forward and watched the group. Sirius whistled uninterestedly and stuck his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Do you have a key to my vault?” Harry asked softly.  
  
“Yup. James gave me one once they heard Voldemort was looking for them, just in case.”  
  
Harry nodded. Ginny slipped her arm in his and laid her head on his shoulder. He smiled at her, and at her subtle warding off of his depressing thoughts of his parents' deaths.  
  
The goblin returned. “I have verified that you were cleared,” he said. “What may I do for you, Mr. Black?”  
  
“First, I'd like to visit my personal vault,” Sirius said, “then the Black vault. And then we'll go from there.”  
  
“Of course, Mr. Black. I shall send for a goblin to accompany you.” The goblin slipped off his stool and walked away. A minute later, he returned with another goblin holding a lantern.  
  
“I am Boldblood,” said the goblin with the lantern. “I am Deputy Head of the Family Affairs office; I will assist you today.”  
  
“Thank you, Boldblood,” Sirius said. “Lead on.”  
  
They followed him through the doors and into a cart. Boldblood set down his lantern and placed a hand on the cart control, and the cart shot forward.  
  
Harry peered over the edge of the cart, watching stalagmites and stalactites fly past them at neck-breaking speed. Ginny leaned next to him, looking up at the high rock ceiling.  
  
_I've never been this far down,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_Neither have I,_ Harry thought back. _I still don't know what the difference between stalactites and stalagmites is.  
  
Stalactites point down.  
  
Oh._  
  
Ginny shot him a glance, then over her shoulder. _Look at Moony._  
  
Harry turned, and spotted Remus sitting with his eyes shut and fists clenched. He looked a little green. Ginny and he exchanged glances, then Harry slid over and patted Remus gently on the shoulder.  
  
“Carsick?” Harry asked. Remus nodded jerkily.  
  
_I dunno what to do,_ Harry thought.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes and drew her wand. She pointed it at Remus and said “Remedium Nauseae.”  
  
Remus sucked in his breath. “What — what did you do?”  
  
Ginny tucked her wand back into her pocket. “Simple charm, Mum taught it to me ages ago because we kept getting motion sickness and she couldn't cure us all at once. Ron got it the worst.”  
  
Remus blinked and glanced around. Sirius glanced back at them before turning his gaze back on the track.  
  
“Thank you,” Remus said.  
  
“No problem,” Ginny said. “You did look like you were about to splatter the walls.”  
  
Remus smiled dryly. “I felt like I would.”  
  
“We are here,” Boldblood declared and the cart jerked to a stop, halting the conversation. The goblin clambered out of the cart with the lantern onto a stone platform. Harry glanced around, counting several vault doors going down the stone corridor. Boldblood led them to the fourth vault down and set the lantern on the floor.  
  
“You have the key?” he said to Sirius. Sirius nodded and pulled a thin skeleton key from his pocket. Boldblood took and inserted it into a keyhole in the center of the vault door. The door swung open, and Sirius stepped closer. Harry was two heads taller than Boldblood and so could see over him into the vault. It wasn't overflowing with gold, but it was nowhere near to being empty either.  
  
“How much is here, exactly?” Sirius asked.  
  
“Exactly I can't say, but approximately you have in this vault seven hundred Galleons, with a few Sickles and Knuts on the side,” Boldblood told him. Ginny's eyes went wide. Harry ruefully guessed that she had never seen so much money in one place.  
  
“Ah, I see,” Sirius was silent a moment, his lips pursed and his eyes fixed on the pile of gold. “Can we move everything from my personal vault to the Black Vault?” he asked Boldblood finally.  
  
Boldblood raised his eyebrows and glanced at the vault. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “It will take some time; I will call for someone to begin transferring it. Would you like to see the Black vault in the meantime?”  
  
“Yes, please,” Sirius said. “I’m just going to make a small withdrawal from here first.”  
  
“Of course,” Boldblood said, bowing. “Do you have a coin purse on hand?”  
  
“Yes, I do, thank you,” Sirius answered, pulling a little bag from his pocket. He bent and filled the bag to the brim with gold Galleons and the only Sickles and Knuts in the vault. Once he finished, he shoved the bag back into his pocket and gestured for Boldblood to lead on.  
  
They returned to the cart and rocketed off again. Harry thought the ride was quite similar to a roller coaster, because the track curved sharply in many places, sometimes shooting up and down, even flipping upside down twice. Also, Ginny had to use the anti-nausea charm on Remus two more times. He kept getting sick, but Ginny said that too many uses of the charm would end in worse nausea. Remus decided to live with it.  
  
When they arrived at the Black Vault, Remus stepped out of the way to catch his breath. Sirius had a quick word with him, but Remus shook his head, muttering that he was fine. Sirius shook his head and patted Remus’ shoulder, then turned his attention to Boldblood.  
  
Boldblood pressed his palm to the door, and the very door melted out of sight. Harry raised his eyebrows. Sirius was not bothered by it, it seemed, for he stuck his head in and looked around.  
  
“How much is in here?” he asked Boldblood.  
  
“In Galleons, approximately seven hundred fifty million. There are also several thousand Galleons worth of jewels, spell books, relics, and bonds. We can have it all counted and summed up down to the very Knut if you wish, Mister Black.”  
  
“You needn’t count the Galleons, but if you would be kind enough to inventory and appraise everything else in there, I would be very grateful,” Sirius said.  
  
“Of course,” Boldblood bowed again. “Whatever you wish.”  
  
“Thank you, Boldblood.”  
  
Three more goblins approached from behind, all carrying several money bags each.  
  
“Master Black,” said the closest, “We have brought everything from your personal vault. We understand you wished to have it stored in the Black Vault?”  
  
“Yes, please,” Sirius answered. “Thank you, sirs.”  
  
The goblins nodded and lugged the money bags into the Black Vault. Boldblood spoke up. “I assume that by moving all of your money to this vault, you wish to close that one?”  
  
“Yes, that is true,” Sirius said.  
  
Boldblood bowed again. “Very well, I shall close it. Is there anything else you wish to do?”  
  
“Yes, there is.” Sirius glanced at Harry and motioned him forward. “As you should know, I am Harry Potter’s magically legal godfather. I wish to open the Potter Vault and have a look in there.”  
  
“Mr. Potter, would you confirm that he speaks true?” Boldblood said to Harry.  
  
“He’s right,” Harry said. “And, I was just wondering, Sirius said that the Potter family had a lot of investments and stuff, and I wanted to know who was overseeing all my money since my parents died?”  
  
“Gringotts has been,” Boldblood said. “When James Potter passed on, you became the sole heir of the entire Potter family fortune. Previous to his death, your father made Sirius Black the steward of the Potter fortune, so he could oversee the fortune until you were of age. But since he was imprisoned, we took the responsibility of managing both your personal vault, your parent’s personal vaults, and the family’s vault.”  
  
“Since I was arrested, have there been any attempts by anyone other than myself to take over management of the Potter account?” Sirius asked.  
  
“The only thing resembling an attempt to take over stewardship was an inquiry made by Albus Dumbledore not long after James Potter was killed. He wished to know who would oversee the accounts with you in prison; we informed him we would, and that was the end of it,” Boldblood answered.  
  
“Thank you, Boldblood,” Sirius said. “Would you lead us to the Potter Vault now? And, do you think we could walk? My friend is very susceptible to motion sickness.”  
  
Remus only nodded stiffly. Boldblood considered it before agreeing. After closing the Black Vault, he led them down the path, past other vaults, until they reached a thick door with the word “Potter” engraved on the metal surface.  
  
Boldblood placed his palm on it, and the door melted out of the way. Sirius guided Harry to the front of the vault, and his jaw dropped.  
  
The vault was even larger than the Black Vault, with huge piles of gold on one side, and treasures and antiques taking up the space on the other end.  
  
“There are at least several hundred million Galleons in this vault,” Boldblood said, “perhaps even one billion. It has not been counted in quite some time; we will do that soon.” He glanced at Harry, and one corner of his mouth twitched. “You may enter,” Boldblood added evenly. Harry stepped over the threshold, gazing around in awe.  
  
_I knew you were loaded, but I never expected this much!_ Ginny thought.  
  
_Neither did I,_ Harry thought back. He turned and pulled Ginny into the vault; her eyes skipped over the gold to the many bookshelves lining the far wall.  
  
“Hermione is going to love this!” she laughed, stepping over Galleons to get to the books. Harry rolled his eyes. Just his luck to have a girlfriend who went straight for the bookshelves in a room full of treasure, he thought sarcastically. Ginny shot him a look, and he gave her a sheepish smile.  
  
_Sorry, darling,_ he thought. She perked back up and turned back to the books with a wide smile.  
  
“So, Harry m’boy,” Sirius said, stepping up and clapping him on the shoulder. “What do you want to do with all this?”  
  
“Er…”  
  
_Inventory everything, and get it all appraised. Once the inventory and appraising is done, you’ll want to go through it yourself and see if you want to sell anything. Oh, and make sure there isn’t anything unsavory, though I highly doubt there is,_ Ginny reeled off mentally as she pulled a book off the shelf. _And you might want to bring some of these books home. I expect they’ll be very useful._  
  
“I’d like to inventory it all, and appraise everything,” Harry repeated. “And check to make sure there isn’t anything unsavory in here; I don’t think there will be, but I want to be certain. After that, I think we should go through everything ourselves and see if there’s anything we want to sell. And can we take some of those books home?”  
  
“Sure, Little Prongs,” Sirius said. He turned back to Boldblood. “You got that?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Boldblood said, bowing again.  
  
“Thank you, Boldblood,” Harry said.  
  
“Yes, thank you very much,” Sirius echoed.  
  
_You are so good at taking orders,_ Ginny thought with a grin.  
  
Harry snorted. _Only from you.  
  
Exactly._  
  
Harry shook his head and made his way over to her. He slipped his arms around her and gently kissed her cheek. Ginny smiled warmly at him.  
  
“Oi!” Sirius called, “hands where I can see them!”  
  
Ginny stuck her tongue out at Sirius, then proceeded to turn around in Harry’s arms, wrap hers around his neck, and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth.  
  
“Lips too!”  
  
“You’re no fun,” Harry complained loudly.  
  
“Oi! I am loads of fun!” Sirius protested. “But I rather fear Mrs. Weasley more than I fear being accused of being no fun.”  
  
Reluctantly, Harry let go of Ginny, who just as reluctantly stepped back.  
  
“Anyway,” Ginny said as if nothing had happened, “I think we should bring this one with us.”  
  
Harry remembered that she had been holding a book in her hands before they started kissing. He took it from her and looked it over.  
  
“I can’t read it,” he said, frowning at the title.  
  
“Of course you can’t, you don’t know Gaelic,” Ginny said. He raised his eyebrows at her.  
  
“You do?”  
  
“A little bit. Mum taught us the basics before we came to Hogwarts.”  
  
“So what is it?”  
  
Ginny touched a forefinger to the second word in the title. “I’m pretty sure that says ‘Transfiguration.’ And that,” she pointed to the fourth, “means Charms. I think it’s a book of practical spells.”  
  
Harry flicked through it; most of the text was in Gaelic, but there were notes written in the margin in English. He halted at the beginning and read one note.  
  
_“Chapter Twenty-Six would be very useful in handling Remus’s furry problem.”_ Harry raised his eyebrows and turned ran a finger down the table of contents. He could recognize the page numbers, they were normal at least. He found what he guessed to be Chapter 26, with Ginny’s mental help, and flipped through the book to find it. At the forefront of the page, beneath the chapter title, was a drawing of a man with the hindquarters of a bird.  
  
_Animagi?_ He thought.  
  
_I think so,_ Ginny replied. _The title has Animal in it._  
  
_I think it might have been my dad’s,_ Harry thought. Ginny looked up, and they locked eyes.  
  
_What makes you think that?_ She thought.  
  
_Well, a note at the beginning said that this chapter would help with Remus “furry problem.” I think that meant his lycanthropy._  
  
She raised her eyebrows and thought it over. _You could be right. We’ll check it out later, okay?  
  
Deal._  
  
“We’ll take this one home,” he said. “Is there a bag we could put it and the other ones we want to take in?”  
  
“Sure,” Sirius said. He glanced around and grabbed a handbag off a shelf. “Ginny, would you like to borrow Madame Helena Potter’s dragonskin purse?”  
  
“Uh, I guess,” Ginny said, with a glance at Harry. He shrugged, thinking that it was fine with him.  
  
She took the bag, which turned out to already have a few books in it. All, however, were fictional titles and were pushed onto the shelf. Into the bag went the Gaelic Transfiguration and Charms book, a book on magical creatures, an encyclopedia of every Jinx, Curse, Counter Curse, and Hex invented as of 1973, a copy of Potion Making for Dummies (Harry was unsure as to how it had gotten into his family’s vault), and — at Ginny’s insistence — a biography of Merlin. Remus then added to the pile a book of advanced and intermediate Charms, A Study of Lycanthropy, and A History of Sentient Magical Beings. And then — they were testing the limits of the seams — Sirius contributed The Evolution of Wizard Rock, Muggle Transportation, and The Fine Art of Dueling. By the time they had finished, the handbag had been given a Strengthening Charm, an Expansion charm, and had been shrunk to fit in Ginny’s pocket. Boldblood watched them pick out the books, and wrote down the titles, authors and publication dates of each so they would be included in the inventory list.  
  
“Anything else you want, Harry?” Sirius asked.  
  
Harry glanced around the room, looking for anything that might catch his fancy, and his eyes fell a velvet box near where Sirius had found the bag. He stepped over a battered trunk to get to it and picked it up. It was heavier than Harry had expected and longer.  
  
_What’s that?_ Ginny thought as she moved to his side.  
  
_Dunno._ Harry opened the lid, and Ginny’s hands flew to her mouth. Inside, was a dagger made of what Harry suspected to be gold, with dark purple and red stones set into the handguard and pommel. Beside it was a metal scabbard, also made of gold with the same dark gems forming the shape of a rampant griffin.  
  
“Whoa,” Sirius murmured as he looked over Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“Would you look at that,” Remus said with a whistle.  
  
Boldblood stepped forward and looked over it. “May I see it?” he asked. Harry nodded. Boldblood lifted the dagger from the case and held it up against the light. He studied it a moment, then swapped it for the scabbard. Again, he scrutinized it before setting it back in the case. “Pure golden blade, as is the handle and the scabbard. The stones are spinels of a deep purple variety and classic garnets. This garnet on the pommel is, strangely, uncut. I cannot say why. Though the blade is unmistakably of Goblin make, neither the handle nor the scabbard were made by Goblin hands, though they were, I believe, made in a Goblin forge with Goblin magic. There is a magic in them that I cannot identify in it, however. I would say it is probably worth over five hundred thousand galleons.”  
  
“Wow,” Harry whispered.  
  
Boldblood took the case from him, closing it as he did. “We will inventory it, and have it professionally appraised. There are several Goblin made weapons in this vault, and, as you can see,” he added, pointing to a burnished suit of armor standing in a corner, “Goblin made armor. I suggest you come back as often as you can until term at Hogwarts starts, to go over everything yourself.”  
  
“Uh, okay,” Harry said, glancing at Ginny. She shrugged.  
  
_I don’t see a reason not to,_ she thought. _Besides, it sounds like fun.  
  
And it’s just my luck to have a girlfriend who enjoys going through dusty old antiques._  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes.  



	13. Summer 1994 Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Thirteen: Summer 1994, Part Three  
  
Ginny**

  
  
Since it was getting close to three o’clock, Remus suggested the goblins transfer the gold and objects from Harry’s parents’ personal vault to the family vault, and Harry asked for everything in his personal vault to be transferred as well. Boldblood agreed to do as the two of them asked, and returned them to the main hall on the cart.  
  
They left Gringotts with both Harry and Sirius’ pockets filled with gold. Harry tried to give some to Ginny, but she stubbornly refused it. She was willing to accept a gift from Sirius, but straight out money she had to turn down out of honor.  
  
They met Harry’s grandmother, Tonks, Ron, and Hermione in Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor, where Harry bought a large chocolate sundae and shared it with her and Sirius bought more ice cream for everyone else. After finishing their treats, they left the parlor and wandered Diagon Alley. Harry went with Ron, Remus, and Sirius towards Quality Quidditch Supplies while Hermione and Tonks pulled Mrs. Evans and Ginny towards a new shop on the alley, called The Jade Dragoness, very reluctantly in Ginny’s case. The shop was larger on the inside than it was on the outside, and filled with not only wizard fashions but Muggle ones too, ones that appealed to her small — very small — girlish side.  
  
“Okay, since it’s so big and we have very different tastes, let’s split up,” Tonks suggested. Mrs. Evans opened her mouth to say something, but Tonks raised a hand before she could. “And, yes, without leaving the minors all by their lonesome. I’d say that Hermione would benefit from you, Thea, more than me, and Ginny me more than you; so I’ll take Ginny and you take Hermione, deal?”  
  
Mrs. Evans thought a moment, then shrugged. “Sounds fair. When and where should we meet back?”  
  
“Here at,” Tonks glanced at her watch, “near five. That gives us an hour and a half. Oh, and Thea, mind what I told you earlier.”  
  
The two of them exchanged odd glances, and Mrs. Evans nodded. “Hermione, you lead the way, dear.”  
  
Hermione waved to Ginny and started off towards a section of Muggle fancy clothes.  
  
“Ginevra, if you would follow me, I shall instruct you in the art of dressing in a gorgeous way without trying,” Tonks crowed gleefully, throwing an arm around her and pulling her towards a section of mixed Wizard and Muggle clothing.  
  
Tonks grabbed several things before Ginny could even protest, then tugged her towards the back and a set of changing rooms.  
  
“First, I’ll need to figure out what looks good on you,” Tonks said, handing her a stack. “Put that on and then show me.”  
  
“What the heck am I doing this for?” Ginny said, flustered.  
  
Tonks looked around as though checking for eaves-droppers, then leaned in close and lowered her voice. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but something is happening at Hogwarts this year, something grand and dangerous at the same time. In addition to that, this Christmas there is going to be a formal dance for which you need formal dress robes. You need to try those on because, A, the owner of this shop is doing a very large sale that ends very soon and I want to take advantage of it by getting you a new wardrobe — don’t interrupt yet! — and B, you need dress robes and, since your mother knows nothing about the current fashions nor how to take advantage of a bargain, I offered to pick out the dress; your mum gave me some money to pay for it. To figure out what best flatters you, you need to update your style from hand-made and second-hand. Okay?”  
  
“Um… wait, why are you getting me a wardrobe?” Ginny asked, still flustered.  
  
“Late birthday present from me and Sirius,” Tonks said. “The gifts he’s insisting on buying are a cover for thanking you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione for helping him capture Pettigrew. I am helping pay for yours and Ron’s because your mother trusts me and will believe me when I tell her that it was all fairly cheap. Mrs. Evans is getting Hermione’s, and in about fifteen minutes, Sirius is going to announce that he needs a new wardrobe, drag the boys into a shop, and get both Harry and Ron new clothes. Remus is getting new stuff too, but his is already bought and is being delivered today. Any more questions?”  
  
Ginny blinked. “Okay. Uh, no, not really. Uh, is it really cheap?”  
  
Tonks shrugged. “With the sale, it is less expensive than it would normally be, but even with that, your parents probably would not be able to afford it all at one time. That is the truth. Anything else?”  
  
Ginny glanced down at the stuff in her hands. “Err, no, I guess not.”  
  
Tonks clapped her on the shoulder. “Good girl! Now, go try that on.”  
  
Half an hour later, Ginny had tried on several things, and half of it she did not like. So, Tonks dropped the rejected things in a bin and what she did like was folded up and set aside. They went back to the section they came from, and Ginny picked out a few more things. After that, they moved on to dress robes. Ginny was very nearly overwhelmed by all the Muggle formal gowns and Witches’ dress robes taking up half of the store.  
  
“What about this,” Tonks said, picking a Muggle dress off the rack. It was bright pink, had a fluffy skirt that would not reach her knees, and no straps let alone sleeves. Ginny shuddered and vehemently shook her head. Tonks laughed and pushed it back.  
  
“See, it’s not that hard,” she said, giving her a one armed hug. “Now, do you want to show off your legs, boobs, or back?”  
  
Ginny looked up at her friend with a look of utter confusion. Tonks laughed again.  
  
“Do you want a long dress?” she asked. Ginny thought a moment, after double checking that Harry was not paying attention.  
  
“Yeah, ankle length please.”  
  
“Do you want a high neckline, a low neckline, or a modest one?”  
  
“Modest, I guess.”  
  
“And do you want straps or sleeves?”  
  
“Depends. No really thin straps, though.  
  
“Backless?”  
  
“No!”  
  
Tonks grinned. “We’ve narrowed it down now. What color do you want?”  
  
Ginny thought back to what she had picked out earlier. “A cool color,” she decided, proud that she had remembered the correct category.  
  
And so they turned to the racks of dresses. Tonks pulled out a few, Ginny pulled off one or two, and soon they had finished the first rack, then the second and finally the third.  
  
“Modeling time now!” Tonks said, steering her towards the changing rooms again. As they went, Tonks grabbed a pair of shoes. “You’ll want to wear these while you’re trying them on, just for kicks.”  
  
The first dress Ginny tried was higher in the front than the back, so the front hem rested in the middle of her shins. It was a bluish green, and had see-through sleeves that reached her wrist. The neckline dipped a little in the center, but not much. It was, as Tonks described it, a mermaid dress. Ginny failed to see how it made her look mermaidish; she was lacking scales, a trident, and wild weed-like hair. The shoes were a glossy black, had a very high heel, and made her wobble as she walked. Ginny glanced in a mirror and groaned. The dress was tight enough to show off her immature curves, yes, but also the fact that she still had some baby fat left.  
  
Tonks studied her. “First, we’ll need a lower heel. You’re taller than Harry in those. And some shapewear. Stay put, I’ll be right back.”  
  
Ginny frowned. Shapewear?  
  
Tonks returned a minute later with a full slip that looked a bit too small for Ginny. “Put it on under the dress,” Tonks told her.  
  
“It looks a bit small,” Ginny said.  
  
“It’s a body shaper, it’s supposed to. It’ll smooth out everything.”  
  
Ginny turned pink as she returned to the changing room. “I don’t really like this dress,” she called over her shoulder as she went.  
  
She peeled off the mermaid dress, and tugged on the body shaper. Without looking in the mirror, she pulled on the next dress: a deep blue gown with short sleeves that like the other dress was fairly tight but it didn’t flare at the knee like the last one had. She stepped out, and Tonks clapped her hands. Ginny looked in a mirror, and was quite impressed. Now, there were no flaws in her figure that she could see, and her curves were curvier! But the dress was not so hot.  
  
And tried on the next. Over the next half hour, she tried on dress robes, mermaid gowns, something called a Cinderella ball-gown that Tonks had picked on the next trip to the dress racks — she did not even finish the zipper in that one, but discarded it hastily — dresses with ‘empire waist’s that seem less empire-like and more older girl, and a single dark green sheath dress that lacked sleeves.  
  
Standing in the green sleeveless one, Ginny frowned at herself. The green complimented her hair and even her freckles fairly well, but that was the only good thing about it. Tonks agreed.  
  
“Green is good on you, but that one is bad,” Tonks said. “Here, try this one next.”  
  
She handed her a black dress. Ginny took it, and wearily went back into the changing rooms. She hoped that Hermione was having more luck on her side of the store.  
  
She swapped the sheath dress for the black one, and stepped out. Tonks gasped.  
  
“Spin around!” Tonks commanded. Ginny fought an expression of exasperation, and did. “It’s perfect!” Tonks cried.  
  
Ginny turned to the mirror, and her eyebrows rose. It was another mermaid gown, but unlike the other ones, it worked. The lace sleeves were slightly off the shoulders and were tight to her arms down to her wrist, where they flared out to drape over her knuckles. The neckline was a sweetheart neckline, as Tonks described the curve of it that dipped down and exposed just the smallest amount of cleavage. The black fabric shimmered in the lights, and was smooth to the touch. The way it flared at her knees was subtle and elegant.  
  
“That one,” Tonks declared. “If you refuse it, I will do a Sirius and buy it for you anyway.”  
  
“It does look nice,” Ginny agreed.  
  
“Nice?” Tonks said with raised eyebrows. “Girl, that is gorgeous! You’ll turn Harry into a puddle of goo with that beauty.”  
  
Ginny thought it over. None of the other gowns had felt as comfortable as this one, nor as beautifying. She glanced at the tag on her sleeve.  
  
“I can’t,” she said with a sigh. “It’s too much.”  
  
Tonks flung an arm around her shoulders and gaped her reflection. “Too much? There’s no bloody thing as too much in this situation! You buy this, you’ll have it for life. Every black tie occasion, you’ll never need to buy another dress, only want to. Hell, the only occasion I can think of where you couldn’t where this is your own wedding, but that’s only ‘cause you’ll want white. Come on, Ginny! And remember that it’s thirty percent off the original price.”  
  
Ginny glanced back at the tag, then did a quick mental calculation, silently thanking Hermione for her insistence that Ginny should take Arithmency. What she had left once she subtracted the thirty percent seemed a little more approachable.  
  
“Well…”  
  
“Ginny, agree or disagree, I am buying this for you.”  
  
Ginny sighed. “Fine,” she relented. Tonks let out a girlish squeal and hugged her.  
  
“Now you need a smaller heel and professional make-up,” Tonks said. “Come on.”  
  
The clock had ticked past five thirty and was getting close to five fifty by the time Tonks was satisfied. Ginny also had two new pairs of shoes: A dark velvet green peep toe pump — whatever the heck peep toe meant — for the formal occasion Tonks would not name and a pair of glossy black wedges, as well as six different tubes of make-up, two blushes, one bronzer, four eye-shadow palates, two perfumes, and three lipsticks. All of which Tonks swore to demonstrate to her before term started.  
  
“What’s our total?” Ginny asked, looking over the three stacks of casual Muggle clothes, two sets of nice but not formal robes, three other sets of robes for everyday wear, her formal gown, shoes, and make-up. Tonks pointed a finger to each, one eye half shut, and mumbling under her breath.  
  
“Less than I expected,” Tonks said with triumph. “Which means less than our budget. And Sirius expressly told me that I had to be at least ten Galleons over the limit when I finished with you.”  
  
“Let’s say we are, and quit while we’re ahead,” Ginny said.  
  
“Nope, let’s get you another pair of shoes. That should put us ten Galleons over, as promised.”  
  
“Tonks!”  
  
“No, I’m doing it. Stay put, I’ll be right back.”  
  
Ginny sighed and shook her head. Tonks was almost as stubborn as she was. Tonks returned with a pair of fancy sandals.  
  
“We are now nine Galleons over,” Tonks said with a victorious smile. “I have nothing further to get you.”  
  
“This is a lot,” Ginny said with raised eyebrows.  
  
Tonks waved a hand. “Didn’t you see how much Sirius has? He wants to do this for you, Ginny. He feels like he owes you, which really he does because you did help bring Pettigrew in.”  
  
“But this is still a lot of money!”  
  
“You heard him, turn any of it down and he’ll buy it anyway. Please, please, please, don’t let Weasley pride get in the way of this very generous and half off the original price gift!”  
  
Ginny sighed, again, and nodded. “Okay,” she said, “fine.”  
  
Tonks clasped her hands together and mouthed ‘thank you!’ “Come on, let’s go pay. We should meet with Thea and Hermione too.”  
  
Hermione turned out to have even more than Ginny, with at least five pairs of shoes and four sets of robes. Tonks dropped a fat bag of money that Sirius must have slipped her along the way onto the counter, and the clerk handed her two Sickles change.  
  
“And now we meet the boys,” Tonks said, shrinking each of their bags with a tap of her wand. Ginny’s four shrunk backs were pushed into her pocket with the bag of books, and they left the store.  
  
They met the boys outside a shop of odds and ends, where Ginny’s eyebrows rose and smiled appreciatively at the brand new clothes that Harry wore. He grinned at her and threw an arm over her shoulders.  
  
_Like the new threads?_ Harry thought.  
  
Ginny suppressed a snort. _Threads? What on earth does that mean?  
  
Sirius told me to say it. Anyway, like ‘em?_  
  
Ginny let her gaze drift over his well-fitting jeans, Weird Sisters tee shirt, and plaid button up that was un-buttoned with the sleeves pushed up.  
  
_Did Sirius pick it out?  
  
Yeah, but I like it. Sirius said that I’ll need to fix the sleeves and button it when we go for dinner, so I meet dress code. Did you get anything?_  
  
Ginny nodded. _A few robes, some shoes, jeans and shirts.  
  
Nice! Did Tonks or Gram say anything about formal robes?  
  
Actually, yes. Tonks made me get a formal dress and Hermione has new dress robes. Tonks told me that something is going to happen at Hogwarts this year, something she called both grand and dangerous. And that there’s going to be a formal dance at some point.  
  
Dance, huh? Wanna go with me?_  
  
Ginny shoved him lightly with her shoulder. _Of course, goose! Who else would I go with?  
  
I dunno, McLaggen?_  
  
Ginny suppressed a shudder and Harry chuckled.  
  
_Do you even know how to dance?_ Ginny mentally asked him.  
  
_A bit. Gram showed me a few moves. Do you?  
  
Not really. I’ll ask your grandmum to show me the same ‘moves.’  
  
Cool. Are you wearing perfume? You smell more intoxicating than normal._  
  
Ginny smiled and nodded. Harry grinned at her and kissed her cheek.  
  
“Watch it!” Sirius and Ron called out. Both Ginny and Harry stuck out their tongues.  
  
They ate dinner at an Italian place called Luigi’s, where Sirius told them they were not allowed to get any dish that cost less than twenty pounds. He needn’t have bothered; there were only three dishes less than twenty and all were appetizers. Harry and Ginny shared something called Surf and Turf, and after dinner the adults had wine and everyone had expensive and delicious desserts. With their belts loosened, they all Floo’ed back to the Ministry. They said goodbye to Hermione and her parents, then piled into Mrs. Evans car. Tonks offered to drive since Mrs. Evans had drunk three glasses of wine, and they left for Ottery St. Catchpole.  
  
When they arrived home, Mrs. Evans dropped Ginny, Ron, and Harry off at the Burrow. Tonks had instructed her to keep the bags with her casual wear and make-up shrunk, but to show her mother the new dress and shoes. Ginny agreed, because she suspected that if her mother knew exactly how much Sirius had insisted on spending, she’d have to return it all. Ron and Harry showed her parents their new dress robes, then ran up to Ron’s room to do ‘guy stuff’.  
  
“All right, missy,” Ginny’s mum said, with her hands on her hips. “Let’s go see what you got. I want to know what dress Tonks got you, and if there are any modifications that I need to make.”  
  
“There aren’t any,” Ginny assured her. “It’s very modest.”  
  
“Well, let’s go see!” Mum said. They went up to their room, and while her mum was turned around for her to change, Ginny stuck the shrunken bags under her bed.  
  
“Oh, it’s wonderful!” Mum gasped when Ginny had finished changing. Ginny curtsied and spun in a circle. “I love it,” Mum said.  
  
“I’m good?” Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows. “No modifications needed?”  
  
Mum glanced over the dress again, and nodded. “I’d say you’re good. And you know, this will probably last you a long time, since we can just alter it when you finish filling out.”  
  
Ginny let a wide smile spread across her face. “Awesome! Oh, and Tonks got me a few other things too. Do you mind?”  
  
“Well, as long as it’s appropriate I don’t mind,” Mum said. “Did Ron get much else other than his robes?”  
  
She shrugged; “I wasn’t with the guys.”  
  
“Ah, well, Arthur can handle them. Did you enjoy your day out?”  
  
Ginny grinned broadly at her mother. “It was great.”  
  
Mum smiled again. “Good. All right, time for bed. See you in the morning, sweetheart. Remember, you’re leaving early for Dad’s surprise.”  
  
“Where are we going?” Ginny asked. Mum didn’t answer, but hugged her and left the room. Ginny sighed, and pulled out the shrunken bags and prodded them with her wand. They became full size with a pop and Ginny stared at them for a moment. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. Finally, she took everything out of the bags, sorted them into piles and pulled her trunk over. Opening it, she glanced over the second-hand clothes and few new ones they’d bought the previous summer already in there. She had several pairs of jeans, a few tattered shirts and a few less abused ones, and a single pair of sneakers that had once been a crisp white but now was a dull cream. The sneakers she decided to keep, but she pulled out almost all of the shirts and the majority of the jeans, since they were mostly all too snug. When she finished, the only Muggle clothes remaining in the trunk where two pairs of jeans, a single tee shirt, a Quidditch jersey that had been Bill’s she slept in, and an old sweatshirt.  
  
She dropped the old clothes on the floor of her closet to be dealt with later. Most of her old robes joined them. And into the trunk went the brand new jeans, shirts, sweaters, robes, the formal dress, and everything else Tonks had bought her. The make-up went into a case Mum had given her for her twelfth birthday that she had never used, and the shoes were tucked under all the clothes at the bottom of her trunk. She shut the lid and pushed it out of the way. Ginny glanced at the clock — 12:47 — and pulled out her pajamas. She plopped onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling.  
  
_Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?_  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry’s comment. _I was packing.  
  
Why couldn’t you do that in the morning?  
  
Because I wanted to do it now.  
  
Fine. What does your new dress look like?  
  
It’s a surprise.  
  
Come on! I’ll tell you what my robes look like.  
  
Nope. It is a surprise._  
  
Harry huffed. Ginny closed her eyes and peeked through his eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling of Ron’s room. Ron was in his bed, one arm dangling over the side of the bed and snoring.  
  
_Night,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_Yeah, yeah.  
  
Harry,_ she thought warningly.  
  
He huffed again. _Good night, my dearest spoil-sport._  
  
Ginny scowled at the ceiling. _Good night, my pestering boyfriend.  
  
Prettiest stubborn girlfriend.  
  
Kiss-up.  
  
Oops, I meant to make that sound rude._  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes again. _You’re being sulky. I just want to surprise you.  
  
Yeah, I know,_ he grumbled. _Fine, you’re not a spoil-sport.  
  
Thank you. And for the record, you are not a pest.  
  
I feel so special.  
  
Good night.  
  
Night, darling._  
  
Ginny smiled as she fell asleep.  
  
The next morning, Ginny woke up to thundering feet on the stairs and her parents shouting for them to wake up. She jumped out of bed, startled, and tugged on her bathrobe. She tugged open her door and stepped out into the hallway.  
  
“Watch out, squirt!” George hollered as he ran past.  
  
“Careful, little sis,” Fred paused in his stampede downstairs to ruffle her hair. She slapped away his hand as he kept going.  
  
“What’s going on?” she asked Percy; he was walking rather than running.  
  
“Father and Mother have something to tell us,” Percy said. He was already dressed with his hair combed neatly and his glasses perched upon his pompous face. He walked past her in a way she was sure he thought was mature and regal, but Ginny thought it was more bratty and smug than anything else.  
  
Rolling her eyes at her older brother, she darted up the stairs to Ron’s room. She knocked on the door before sticking her head in. Ron was still in bed with his hands holding firmly onto the bedframe; Harry was tugging on his ankles, grunting with the strain.  
  
“What are you doing?” Ginny said.  
  
Harry dropped Ron’s feet. “Your brother won’t get up.”  
  
Ginny walked over and prodded Ron. “Up. Mum and Dad want us.”  
  
“Ffomph,” Ron mumbled.  
  
“No. Up.”  
  
“Sleeeeeep.”  
  
“Get up.”  
  
Ron clamped his pillow over his head. Ginny huffed and set her fists on her hips. Then she glanced at the door, and stepped off to the side.  
  
“Back up,” she said to Harry. He did as he was told.  
  
“Ron, Fred and George are eating your bacon!” Ginny said loudly.  
  
“The gits!” Ron roared, and a second later he had shot out of bed and was rocketing down the stairs to defend his nonexistent bacon.  
  
Harry turned to her with raised eyebrows. “I’m impressed,” Harry said.  
  
“Thank you,” Ginny smiled and kissed his cheek. “Come on, let’s go see what Mum and Dad want.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out the room.  
  
Downstairs, Ron was standing in the kitchen with confusion on his face.  
  
“Where’s the bacon?” he said.  
  
“In the icebox, Ron,” Mum said, one eyebrow raised, setting a plate of toast on the table. “I can make some if you want it.”  
  
“Ginny said…” then Ron scowled and rounded on her. “You evil little liar,” he growled.  
  
“How else was I going to get you up?” Ginny asked with a smirk. Ron raised a scolding finger and wagged it in her face, but dropped into a chair with a scowl when Mum turned her gaze on him. Everyone else was seated, so Ginny and Harry sat down by Ron.  
  
Dad walked into the kitchen sipping a cup of tea; and then walked in Bill and Charlie. Ginny squealed happily and ran forward to throw her arms around each of them in turn. Bill laughed and Charlie ruffled her hair.  
  
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Not that it’s not good to see you.”  
  
“They’re coming with us,” Dad said, dropping into a chair.  
  
“Where are we going?” George asked.  
  
Dad pulled a sheaf of papers from his trouser pockets, and waved them at the group. Every jaw dropped.  
  
“The World Cup?” Ron gasped.  
  
“You’re joking!” Fred and George shouted.  
  
“I am not,” Dad said with a chuckle. “We leave in about half an hour to catch a Portkey there. We might be staying a few days, so go pack some clothes. We’re going to meet Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Hermione there too. Hurry now!”  
  
Ginny darted from the kitchen with her brothers and Harry hot on her heels. Except Percy. Perfect Percy must have already known since he wasn’t running to pack.  
  
Ginny threw open her door, grabbed a rucksack from her closet, then tugged open her trunk again to get her new clothes. She shoved three pairs of jeans, two sweaters, Bill’s old Quidditch jersey and a pair of shorts, two tee shirts, one blouse and three sets of underclothes. She paused, then pulled one sweater out and tossed it onto the bed to wear later. Ginny added one of the books Hermione had given her for Christmas the previous year, a comb, a sketch pad and a case of pencils, and half a dozen socks. Then she tossed the rucksack into the hallway, shut her door, and changed quickly into jeans, a Weird Sisters shirt, and tugged on her sweater.  
  
Throwing her rucksack on her back, Ginny ran down the stairs and skidded to a stop in the living room. She set her bag down by the door and calmly walked into the kitchen.  
  
“Need any help, Mum?” she called.  
  
“Yes, thank you, dear,” her mother said over her shoulder as she stirred a pan of eggs. “Can you go and get the bacon from the icebox?”  
  
“Sure.” Ginny turned from the kitchen and walked to the pantry and laundry room, where the icebox stood. She pulled a pack of bacon from it and went back to the kitchen. “Got it, Mum.”  
  
“Thank you, Ginny, would you mind cooking it?”  
  
_Guess the joke’s on you now,_ Harry thought.  
  
_Shush yourself,_ Ginny thought with a shake of her head. “Sure, Mum.” She pulled a pan out of a cupboard and set on the stove while her mum started rolling out dough for scones. She prodded the burner with her wand and it ignited. Soon the pan was beginning to smoke; Ginny laid several pieces of the bacon into it.  
  
“I smell bacon!” Ron shouted joyously from the dining room. He darted into the kitchen and threw an arm around her shoulder. “You are an awesome sister, you know.”  
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. “Really? I thought I was evil.”  
  
Ron shrugged. “That too, but you’re making me bacon. That makes you awesome.”  
  
Ginny shook her head and flipped the bacon in the pan. Ron gave her another squeeze and went to steal some of the sweetened scone dough from their mother.  
  
Ten minutes later, Ginny, her brothers and boyfriend were seated at the dining table, scarfing down breakfast.  
  
“Come along, gang, we’ve got to leave in about five minutes!” Mr. Weasley shouted, gulping down the rest of his tea. Ginny glanced at Ron, and stifled a snigger at the sight of his bulging cheeks.  
  
“Don’t choke yourself, brother mine,” Ginny warned, standing up with her plate. Ron managed to stick his tongue out at her through his mouthful of food. Rolling her eyes, Ginny went into the kitchen with her plate.  
  
Another ten minutes later, they were waiting outside for Mum to finish screaming at Fred and George about the Ton-Tongue Toffees. Ginny checked her watch and huffed.  
  
_Be patient, darling,_ Harry thought, weaving his fingers with hers.  
  
_We were supposed to be gone by now!_ Ginny groaned mentally.  
  
“What are you thinking?” Ron asked.  
  
“That I’d like to whip George’s hide,” Ginny grumbled. “He’s probably the one who thought to try and sneak the sweets out.”  
  
“Probably,” Ron agreed. Bill and Charlie came out the back door, Bill paused to ruffle Ron’s hair. Ron swatted his hand away.  
  
“Dad said we could head off,” Bill said. “He’ll catch up with Fred and George.”  
  
“What about Percy?” Harry asked.  
  
“He’s Apparating,” Charlie replied. “He’ll leave later.”  
  
“Let’s go then,” Ginny jumped up, adjusted the straps of her rucksack, and started down the lane.  
  
“Gin?”  
  
Ginny stopped. “What?”  
  
Bill pointed west. “We’re going that way.”  
  
Her cheeks tinged themselves pink. “Right.”  
  
Dad and the two trouble-makers caught up with them about twenty minutes after they left. They walked about an hour before Dad stopped them on Stoatshead hill. Ginny glanced around, and found two people walking towards them.  
  
“Are we meeting anyone?” Charlie asked.  
  
“Amos Diggory,” Dad said. “And his son, I think.”  
  
“Hullo!” called the older of the two people. “Pleasant morning, eh?”  
  
“Yes, it is, Amos!” Dad called back. Amos Diggory and his companion climbed the hill to stand before them; Ginny recognized the boy, Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain and Seeker.  
  
“Good lord,” Amos chortled, “are all of these your children, Arthur?”  
  
“Ah, all but one,” Arthur chuckled. “This is my oldest boy, Bill, and Charlie, these two are Fred and George, then Ron and my daughter, Ginny.” He pointed to each of them as he introduced us. Bill and Charlie shook Mr. Diggory’s hand. Fred and George waved politely, but Ginny noticed they didn’t smile. Seems they still weren’t over the fact that Cedric had beaten them at Quidditch the year before.  
  
Mr. Diggory turned his eyes on Harry. “And this young lad? What’s your name, son?”  
  
_Here we go again,_ Harry thought as he stepped forward to hold out his hand. “Harry Potter, sir.”  
  
“Merlin’s Beard!” Mr. Diggory said. His gaze shot instantly to Harry’s scar. Ginny huffed. Mr. Diggory pumped Harry’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. A great honor.”  
  
Harry forced a smile and stepped back.  
  
“Uh, well, shall we gather ‘round the Portkey?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Oh, yes, let’s.” Mr. Diggory moved to the crest of the hill, where the Portkey, a worn out boot, was waiting. He touched a finger to the tongue of the boot. Ginny’s brothers gathered around, each touching a finger to the boot.  
  
_Er, what is that?  
  
The Portkey,_ Ginny thought. _Portkeys are usually things like that so Muggles won’t pick them up by accident.  
  
Oh._  
  
Ginny grabbed a shoelace between her thumb and forefinger. Harry raised an eyebrow. Ginny raised both. Harry shook his head and grabbed the shoelace. Dad checked his watch.  
  
“Three, two, one…”  
  
The Portkey glowed bright blue; something jerked Ginny forward by her navel, the blue light expanded over them, and they dropped onto flat soggy ground.  
  
They checked in and left for their campsite, saying goodbye to the Diggorys as they did. Harry helped Dad build the tents, one for the guys and one for Ginny, Hermione, and Tonks, while Ron and she went to get water for tea.  
  
About an hour later Percy showed up, followed by Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Hermione. Ludo Bagman visited, asking for bets. Fred and George bet all they had that Ireland would win but Krum would get the snitch. Tonks pulled them into the girls’ tent, which was magically expanded on the inside, for the make-up tutorial she had promised when Percy’s boss, Barty Crouch, showed up. After she finished, they goofed around for a while, doing girl stuff, until lunch. Tonks agreed to charm Ginny’s hair to have green highlights. Later, Harry laughed and told her she looked like a leprechaun. A cute one, he admitted, after she drew her wand. And after lunch, it was time to start off to the stadium.  
  
Ginny was in awe as she gawked at the huge stadium. It rose hundreds of feet in the air, and even the lowest seats were far above her head. It was packed with people, decked out in red and green to support their teams. Vendors sold memorabilia, rosettes that shouted the names of the players on their team, little models of the players, programs, scarves, hats, everything. Sirius bought Irish scarves for everyone and personally wrapped Remus’ around his face. Remus rolled his eyes and jinxed Sirius’ dark hair to flash Ireland’s colors. Sirius laughed and left it that way. Tonks mimicked Sirius by turning her hair green with white stripes. Harry bought Omnioculars for her, Ron, Hermione, and himself. Ron bought a model of Bulgaria’s seeker Victor Krum. Hermione bought a program.  
  
Ginny bought a green and white rosette and pinned it to the front of her sweater. Fred and George took a leaf from Remus’ book and painted their faces green and white. Dad looked on with amused bewilderment. They head off to their seats in the Top Box ready for a good match.  
  
Ginny ended up between Tonks and Harry, with Hermione and Ron on Harry’s other side. Hermione was reading trivia from the program, while the boys ignored her and discussed possible outcomes. Ginny had her eye on the opposite end of the Box, where a little house-elf sat with her hands covering her eyes. She stood up, and walked towards the house-elf.  
  
“Are you all right?” she asked the elf.  
  
The elf peeked from between her fingers. “Oh, miss, Winky is fine, miss.”  
  
“You sure? You look a little green.”  
  
“Well, Winky is not liking heights, miss, but Winky is being told to save her master’s seat.”  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
Winky glanced around, her large green eyes flicked to the seat beside her, then fixed on Ginny. “Master Barty is having lots of work to do, miss. Winky thinks he should be here soon.”  
  
“Oh,” Ginny said. “Barty Crouch, you mean?”  
  
“Yes, miss.” Winky glanced out of the box and shuddered. “Winky is really not liking being so high up.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ginny said. “I could sit with you and keep you distracted if you’d like.”  
  
Winky turned her large eyes back on her. “Miss is very kind.”  
  
_What’s up?_ Harry thought as he stepped up behind her.  
  
“Harry, this is —”  
  
“Dobby?” Harry said, cutting her off.  
  
Winky looked startled. “No, sir, I is Winky. Do you knows Dobby, sir? Dobby is being a friend of mine.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve met him,” Harry said. “How is he?”  
  
“Oh, Dobby is not good, sir,” Winky said with a shake of her head. “Freedom is getting to his head, sir. He is going around asking for a pay, sir.”  
  
“He is? What’s bad about that?”  
  
“House elves is not meant to being paid,” Winky said solemnly. “Winky is telling him sir, ‘Get yourself a nice family and stop being so silly,’ but sir, he is not listening.”  
  
“I hope he does get someone to pay him,” Harry said. “He deserves it.”  
  
“Oh, sir, Winky is not hoping that. Winky is hoping he is going to be coming to his senses soon. All the elves Winky is knowing is agreeing with Winky.”  
  
“Well, maybe he will, maybe he won’t,” Ginny said. “Anyway, would you like to come sit with us?”  
  
Winky glanced at the empty seat next to her again. “Winky would like to, miss, but Winky is needing to stay here. Winky must save Master’s seat.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Ginny said. “I hope he gets here soon, then.”  
  
Winky nodded meekly. Ginny patted Winky’s shoulder and turned to go back to her seat. Harry waved and followed her.  
  
The match was just about to start, when more people filed in. Ginny was a bit startled to see the Minister for Magic and the Bulgarian delegates, but it did make sense since these were the best seats in the stadium. She got to shake hands with them all. The Bulgarians recognized Sirius from his wanted posters, but Minister Fudge quickly explained that he had been cleared. They recognized Harry as well, and the Bulgarian Minister for Magic got a photographer to take their picture. Barty Crouch never did show up.  
  
She was less pleased when the last of the people seated in the Top Box entered. Draco Malfoy, his father, and a woman Ginny assumed was Mrs. Malfoy climbed into the box and moved down the aisle. Mrs. Malfoy stopped when she caught sight of Sirius. Sirius turned, and stood up with a scowl. Tonks glanced up, and stood hastily.  
  
“I heard you had been pardoned,” Mrs. Malfoy sneered. “Shouldn’t you be drinking yourself into a stupor in some tavern?”  
  
“I might say the same thing to you, Narcissa,” Sirius spat. Mr. Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at the two, then continued to his seat.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy straightened herself, glancing at Ginny’s family, Remus, and Tonks. Tonks green and white hair tinged red at the tips.  
  
“You’ve sunk even lower, Sirius,” Mrs. Malfoy said with contempt. She turned her scowl on Tonks and wrinkled her nose.  
  
“I suggest you walk away, Cissy,” Tonks said. Ginny frowned. Cissy? What did that mean?  
  
Mrs. Malfoy looked burned by the comment. She glared a bit longer, then tossed her hair and moved to join her husband. Draco lingered to sneer at Sirius and Tonks, then stepped forward to exchange insults with Harry.  
  
“Not worried your friend’s going to do you in, Potter?” Draco snapped.  
  
“He was cleared,” Harry said calmly. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Malfoy.”  
  
“Yeah? Do you know how the bloodtraitors managed tickets? I’m sure not even their hovel could be worth one ticket.”  
  
Ron shot to his feet, his ears bright red. Hermione tugged on Ron’s sleeve; he shook her off.  
  
“Shut your face, Malfoy,” Ron growled.  
  
Malfoy chuckled coldly. “Did you sell your dignity, Weasley? Wait, I forgot, you haven’t got any to spare.”  
  
Ginny jumped up and grabbed Ron’s arm before he could take a swing at Malfoy. “Sit down,” she warned her brother.  
  
“Yeah, listen to your baby sister,” Malfoy sneered. “Don’t strain yourself.”  
  
“Hey, Draco,” Tonks said, stepping up. She clapped Malfoy on the shoulder. “Walk away. Now.”  
  
“Who’re you to tell me what to do?” Draco snapped.  
  
Tonks pulled something from her pocket. She flipped it open, showing him an Auror badge. “Walk away,” she repeated. Draco glared at her and shoved her hand off his shoulder. He scowled at them once more and moved to his seat. Tonks smiled at them and patted Ron’s shoulder before sitting down again. Ginny pushed Ron into his seat and gave him a warning look before returning to her own.  
  
Ludo Bagman bounded into the Top Box, grinning at them all. “Let’s get this party started!” he said, then touched his wand to his neck. “Sonorus.” He stepped to the edge of the box and opened his mouth once more.  
  
“Welcome, one and all,” Bagman said, his voice magically ringing throughout the entire stadium, “to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup! I give you… the Bulgaria National Team mascots!”  
  
Ginny leaned over the edge to stare down at the field, where about a hundred women were streaming out onto the field.  
  
“What are they supposed to be?” Harry asked.  
  
“Veela,” Hermione, said consulting her program.  
  
“Bird-women?” Ginny asked, looking down. Hermione nodded, but her attention was taken by Ron, who was staring at the veela with his mouth hanging open. Ginny glanced around; all her brothers were gazing at the veela, who were now singing something, with similar expressions. Even Draco Malfoy rose to his feet to gawk.  
  
“What’s gotten into them?” Harry asked, waving a hand in front of Ron’s face. Hermione glanced at Harry, then at Ron, then at the veela, then back to Harry.  
  
“What’s gotten into you?” Hermione said, looking at him with surprise in her eyes. “You should be gawking too.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“They’re veela!”  
  
“What are veela?”  
  
“They’re bird-women,” Ginny answered. “They’ve got this magic that enchants all men around them. It makes the men think that the veela are the most beautiful people in the world.”  
  
Harry looked back at the veela, then at her, then back to the veela, before turning back to her with a shrug.  
  
The veela stopped singing. Hermione smacked Ron’s shoulder to catch his attention, as Bagman introduced the Irish mascots. They were real leprechauns. Harry pointed out the similarities between her and her green hair and one of the leprechauns, while Ginny shook her head at him.  
  
After the mascots came the teams. And then, the game begun.  
  
Two hours later, Ireland was ahead by more than one hundred and fifty points, so when Krum caught the snitch, Ireland still won. The players all came up to the Top Box to receive the trophy, and Ginny went a little starry eyed at the sight of all the professional players just feet from her.  
  
They went back to their tents and talked most of the night until Dad insisted they go to bed. Tonks, Hermione, and Ginny left the boys’ tent for their own.  
  
But not long after they fell asleep were they woken up.  
  
“Get up!” Tonks shouted. “Get up, get a jacket, now!”  
  
Ginny rolled out of bed, rubbing her eyes. “What’s the matter?” She glanced around, Tonks pulled jeans over her pajama pants and a cloak over her tank top. There were lights outside the tent, people were shouting and Ginny heard something disturbingly like spells firing.  
  
“Something’s happened, you need to get to safety,” Tonks said throwing Ginny’s sweater at her. Hermione climbed down from the top bunk and tugged on a jumper. Ginny pulled the sweater on over her jersey and shoved her feet into her sneakers. She grabbed her wand as Tonks shepherded them out of the tent. The lights Ginny had seen turned out to be fires; there were tents blazing and torches swinging through the air.  
  
Dad had rallied the boys already, they were waiting for them. Dad wrapped an arm around Ginny and kissed her temple. “We have to go help,” he said. “The adults, I mean. Fred and George, you’re in charge. Take Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Harry into the woods over there. Stay on guard, keep your wands out, don’t let them out of your sight.”  
  
The two nodded, their faces serious for once. Dad was still dressed, as was Percy. Bill and Charlie had on jackets over their pajamas, Remus was wearing a cloak, and Sirius stood with his wand drawn wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a white tee shirt. All of them look grim in the firelight. Dad squeezed Ginny’s shoulder and let her go. “Go!” he said, waving a hand. “Get going!”  
  
Fred grabbed Ginny and Hermione by the hand while George pushed Harry and Ron forward. Fred pulled them towards the trees by the edge of the moor. Harry grabbed her other hand as they ran.  
  
“Light your wands,” Fred ordered. Ginny dropped Fred’s hand to pull her wand from her pocket.  
  
_Oh —  
  
Harry!_ Ginny thought, cutting him off before he could begin swearing. “Lumos. What’s the matter?”  
  
“My wand,” he groaned, turning out the pockets of his jacket. “I’ve lost it!”  
  
Ginny glanced around, shining her light over the ground. Hermione and Ron lit their wands and looked with her and Harry while Fred and George stood guard.  
  
“It’s not here,” Harry said, panic rising in him. Ginny laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him.  
  
“It’s probably back in the tent,” Ron said.  
  
“We’ll have to find it later,” George said. “We need to get going again.”  
  
“Right,” Harry mumbled. Ginny slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently. _It’ll turn up._  
  
He nodded glumly, but let her lead him through the trees. Ginny held her brightly lit wand up to cast its glow over the trees. Hermione fell into step beside her.  
  
“Is your wand brighter than normal?” Hermione asked. Ginny glanced at it, then at Hermione’s wand tip. Her friend’s spell did seem a bit dimmer.  
  
“I don’t know,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Maybe you’re just more tired than I am?”  
  
Hermione nodded, her eyebrows knit together. “Maybe.”  
  
Ginny let go of Harry’s hand briefly to push a strand of hair behind her ear. “Look!” Hermione said, pointing.  
  
“What?” Ginny asked, taking Harry’s hand again.  
  
“It — it got darker for a second,” Hermione said. Ginny shrugged. Hermione stared at Ginny’s wand tip contemplatively, until she tripped over a tree root.  
  
_Ginny?  
  
What?  
  
Your spell is brighter than normal,_ Harry thought. _And it did dim down when you let go of my hand._  
  
Ginny narrowed her eyes, staring at her wand. She let go of Harry’s hand; her wand tip dimmed slightly. She took his hand again, and the spell brightened.  
  
_Interesting,_ Ginny thought. _We’ll have to tell Dumbledore later._  
  
They stopped walking about ten minutes later. Ron dropped onto the ground and leaned up against a tree. Hermione paced between two oaks, while Fred and George stood with wands drawn watching the trees.  
  
Ginny leaned against a tree, looking at her wand tip. Harry wrapped an arm around her, yawning tiredly as he did.  
  
A minute later, a soft rustling sounded behind them. Ginny turned, her wand raised. A clump of bushes trembled slightly. Harry stuck his hand in his pocket before he remembered that he had left his wand behind.  
  
“Who’s there?” Ginny called. The others looked up; George walked over, his wand held at the ready.  
  
“Morsmordre!” a voice shouted from the bushes. Green light shot out of the bushes, and came to rest in the air. Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth, hastily stopping a flow of foreign memories ignited by the word and the image in the sky.  
  
Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and tugged him away, calling to the others “We have to get out of here now!”  
  
“Why, what is that?” George asked.  
  
“We have to run!” Ginny insisted. “That’s the Dark Mark, George! It’s Voldemort’s mark!”  
  
Fred grabbed Ron’s arm and pulled him to his feet; Hermione darted away from the green skull and snake hanging above her head. Harry stared up at the mark in horror.  
  
Several loud cracks came from behind them; Ginny turned to face a line of Ministry officials, all with their wands drawn.  
  
“Get down!” Ginny said just as the Ministry workers shouted “Stupefy!” She dropped to her knees, pulling down Harry; Fred shoved Ron back to the ground; George pulled Hermione down with him as he crouched. The red spells shot past them, soaring through the trees. From the bushes where the spell had shot, Ginny thought she heard a gasp of surprise.  
  
“Stop! Stop, those are my children!”  
  
Ginny looked up at the sound of her father’s voice. Dad pushed through the line of wizards, running to them. He grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled her up.  
  
“Are you all right?” he asked, pressing a palm to her cheek. He glanced at the boys, and Fred and Ron by the tree and George rising with a hand still on Hermione’s shoulder.  
  
“We’re fine,” Ginny said. Dad nodded distractedly; he hugged her quickly, then went to hug George, Fred, and Ron.  
  
“Which of you conjured it?” said a harsh voice. Ginny turned to see Barty Crouch stepping forward. “Which?”  
  
“It wasn’t us!” Fred snapped.  
  
“Why would you think that?” Hermione asked, her voice shaky.  
  
“Someone was hiding in those bushes,” Ginny said before Crouch could answer her. “A man, I think. He conjured it.”  
  
Crouch hissed an obscenity under his breath. “They’ll have gotten away by now.”  
  
“Our stunners went right through there,” Amos Diggory said, moving forward. “Maybe we caught him.”  
  
Diggory parted the bushes, and let out a shout of surprise. “Blimey! I don’t believe it!”  
  
“What? Who is it?”  
  
Diggory pulled from the bush the limp body of Winky.  
  
Crouch was horrified. He checked the bushes himself before Mr. Diggory revived Winky and questioned her. It turned out that she had been holding a wand. Harry's wand. Mr. Diggory checked it and declared that it had been the wand to conjure the Dark Mark. Then Crouch, saying that Winky had dishonored him by picking up the wand, gave her clothes. Winky begged him to let her stay, but he turned his back on her. Diggory returned Harry's wand, and Dad led them back to the tent, where Sirius and Remus were waiting. Dad went back out to help, while Remus and Sirius gathered them in the boys' tent. Ginny fell asleep on the couch, to be awakened a few hours later by Tonks saying they had a Portkey back to Ottery St. Catchpole.  
  
They hurried home; Mum surprised them all by nearly choking George and Fred in hugs, sobbing that she had been panicking that Voldemort had gotten them and her last words to them had been out of anger. Mrs. Evans was there too, she grabbed Harry in a tight hug, silent tears slipping from her eyes. Ginny understood what the woman was feeling.  
  
Hermione stayed that night before Flooing back to her parents’ house. Harry went back to his house, to find out that his aunt had been worried enough to hug him when he got back.  
  
There wasn’t much left of summer, and September was coming very quickly. Before long, Ginny was hugging her parents good-bye on the platform before boarding the Hogwarts express. They found a compartment, and the train pulled from the station.  



	14. Icy Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that some of the dialogue has been taken from Chapter 16 of the Goblet of Fire, pages 253-256 and 269-271.

**Fourteen: The Goblet of Fire, Part One  
Icy Flames  
  
Ginny**

  
  
They met up with Hermione, and Ginny's friend Luna Lovegood. Luna smiled serenely at them over the top of her upside down magazine. Ginny noticed that Hermione was sitting rather closer to Ron than normal, and that Ron's ears were rather pink. She and Harry exchanged glances.  
  
_What do you think?_ Harry thought.  
  
_Ten kisses Ron finally notices she's a girl this year.  
  
Make that twenty._  
  
Ginny grinned at him and held out her hand. Harry pumped it once, while Ron and Hermione watched them in confused amusement. Luna just looked on dreamily; no doubt she found nothing odd in their silent exchange.  
  
“Will we ever understand them?” Ron asked Hermione in a stage whisper. Hermione chuckled and shook her head.  
  
_Can I get those twenty early?_  
  
Ginny laughed at him, and rested her head on his shoulder. Harry draped an arm around her, and pressed a gentle kiss to her hair.  
  
Malfoy stopped by, as per usual, making vague comments about what was happening at Hogwarts. He left rather hurriedly after both Ron and Ginny threatened to hex him. By the time the train pulled into the station, they were all hungry and eager for the feast.  
  
The filed into the Great Hall and took seats at the Gryffindor table, noticing that there were a few extra people at the Head Table. Fred and George found the need to make kissing noises at Harry and Ginny as they sat down side by side. Ginny reacted by sticking her tongue out at them, and Harry reacted by kissing her, which sent them, and Ron, into fake gales of retching.  
  
When the puddings cleared away, the students all turned expectantly to the head table. Dumbledore rose to his feet and opened his arms in welcome to them.  
  
“Good evening, all!” he called, smiling fondly. “I do hope you have enjoyed yourselves and that you are all ready for an exciting year! We have many new events coming our way, but first, teacher announcements.” Dumbledore turned to face the left end of the table, his hand extended to where Remus sat smiling. “For the first time in years, we have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher stay for a second year! Please welcome once more, Professor Remus Lupin!”  
  
The applause in the hall was deafening, especially at the Gryffindor table. Ginny and Harry clapped so hard their palms stung. Remus stood and waved, beaming widely at them. Dumbledore grinned at them all, and once the clapping died down, he extended a hand to the other end of the table. “This year, unfortunately our Potions Master has had to take a  
sabbatical —”  
  
Cheers filled the hall. Harry whooped loudly, Ron jumped up and shouted with glee, students were standing up to give Snape’s absence a standing ovation. Dumbledore raised a hand for quiet, his smile faltering a bit. “Yes, yes, I assumed this would happen. Anyway, Professor Snape shall not return until mid-term, so between now and then the role of Potions Master will be filled by former Auror Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, who is an accomplished Potioneer for the Auror department of the Ministry.”  
  
The students cheered and clapped for Professor Moody, even a few Slytherins. Dumbledore waved for quiet once more. “The role of Head of Slytherin house will be filled by Professor Sinestra; I’m sure our Slytherins will welcome her warmly.”  
  
There was polite applause for Professor Sinestra at the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables, but the Slytherins applauded loudly, some even cheered. Once the students had quieted again, Dumbledore resumed the announcements. “This year there are several things happening. One of things is not the inter-house Quidditch tournament —”  
  
“WHAT?!” Fred and George bellowed. Students booed this loudly, Harry even gave Dumbledore a thumbs-down. Dumbledore tried to stem the flow of boos, but eventually had to gain their attention again by setting off a cannon-blast with his wand. That got them quiet.  
  
“There will be no Quidditch this year because a different tournament will be taking place,” Dumbledore said. “This year, we shall host an event that has not occurred for several hundred years. Not even I have seen it held before. This year we shall be competing with two other schools in the Triwizard Tournament.”  
  
“YOU’RE JOKING!” George bellowed. A few people chuckled, but most were staring up at Dumbledore in shock.  
  
_What’s a Triwizard Tournament?_ Harry thought.  
  
_Shh! Dumbledore will explain in a minute,_ Ginny thought back. To be honest, she wasn’t sure. In the back corner of her mind where she kept Tom’s memories, she could vaguely recall him studying it once, but he never got far into the project.  
  
“No, Mr. Weasley, I am most assuredly not joking,” Dumbledore chuckled with amusement. “We are indeed hosting the Triwizard Tournament. For those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament is a grand magical challenge between three champions. Once student from each school will be selected by an impartial judge to compete in three very difficult, very dangerous tasks to win a cash prize of ten thousand galleons and glory for them and their school. The tournament shall take place as always had, under one rule change. No student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to submit their name to the impartial judge for selection.”  
  
“Aw, come on!” Fred yelled. Several other students were calling out in annoyance as well. Dumbledore raised his wand and set off the cannon blast again; the students calmed down.  
  
“This restriction has been placed for the safety of the students participating,” Dumbledore continued. “The tasks are designed to push the champions to their limits, physically, emotionally, and magically. It has been debated over greatly, and the heads of the other schools and our governments agree that students under that age would not be able to complete the tasks safely. The two schools participating with us are Durmstrang School and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. They will be arriving in October.” Dumbledore glanced at his watch. “But now it is time for bed. Rest up for classes tomorrow; pleasant dreams to all. Off to bed, pip pip.”  
  
Ginny chewed on her lower lip all the way up to the tower. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were exclaiming all about the Tournament and how they were going to get around the rule. Ron was listening in rapt attention, evidently looking for ways to enter himself. Harry was staring ahead in silence, and hadn't even reacted when she slipped her arm through his.  
  
_What are you thinking about?_ She asked him silently.  
  
That tournament. _If it’s so dangerous, why are they doing it?_  
  
Ginny shrugged. _I don’t know. I know that we haven’t had much connection with the other schools in a while. When Tom was at Hogwarts, they had a program for getting to know our neighboring schools called Pen-Pals. Tom was given a student from Durmstrang. I can’t remember his name off the top of my head, but it was something funny like carcass. Anyway, we’re very under-educated when it comes to other societies. This tournament is a good way to learn about other wizards.  
  
While putting students at risk?  
  
You know that before Quidditch, the main game on brooms in Ireland was a race where ten men would strap caldrons to their heads and tried to catch boulders in them? Usually they died; sometimes one of them would live and he would be crowned champion._  
  
Harry shook his head. _I didn’t know that. But they stopped doing that, right?  
  
It was banned in the 18th century.  
  
So this tournament is so dangerous that underage students shouldn’t participate, why are we participating at all? Sure, we could connect and learn, but couldn’t we do that other ways? Heck, we could have a giant Quidditch tournament between the two schools. Why not do that?_  
  
Ginny shook her head. _I don’t know._ They were at the stairs to the dormitories. Ginny kissed Harry’s cheek before saying goodnight and going up to bed.  
  


**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

  
  
Ginny couldn’t see well, her surroundings were hazy and unstable. Her eyes wouldn’t focus; her head spun. She fell backward as silver fireballs danced with drops of dew on sharp green blades. Her legs and arms felt like she was lying on a bed of nails. Flashes of lightning struck the ground at her feet, reversed, and stabbed the ground to her left. The sky fell to its knees and the ground swelled around her, rumbling with anger as the lightning attacked it. Nothing was straight, nothing was the way it should have been. Her eyes darted around; she was unable to move from dizziness.  
  
Lightning ripped the sky again, tearing it like a zipper falling open. People and places flashed in the three dimensional darkness behind the sky. Lightning surged from the ground and struck the sky, and suddenly Ginny was in the sky, lying on her back on top of a silver crescent, looking up at a field of green blotted with trees. The dew drops danced, squirming together to form images. She saw herself lying in bed; she saw an old man bent over a stone basin watching a woman draped in beads and bangles speak; she saw a thick reptilian body sliding over dusty floorboards towards a wing-backed armchair. It shifted, and she saw two men looking at a blackboard with names written on it, a diagram of sorts, and still photographs pinned to it; photos of a large, decrepit house, an unsmiling handsome man Ginny could swear she knew, another old man scowling as he held a small board in front of him, and dozens of others. She saw a room full of people, taking notes as a ghost read to them. Ginny knew the boy in the front. It was Tom Riddle, older than when she last saw him, but there was no mistaking those cold eyes. She was seeing him, but not from his point of view. Why? Before she could discern it, it changed again, to a similar room where a short woman dressed in pink paced between rows of desks, watching students read from a textbook.  
  
Then it was gone. A wall of murky water formed from the dew drops; Ginny didn’t have time to fathom it before it crashed upon her. She was no longer lying down; Ginny floated by a stone statue. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. Panicking, she tried to swim for the surface, but after only a few strokes, she was jerked back to her original place. She glanced down, and saw a rope strung with algae binding her to the statue. Her lungs pressed together as air fled her nostrils; she was running out of oxygen. She grabbed at the rope, her arms and fingers going limp, feebly trying to break it. Black blotches danced before her eyes.  
  
_Ginny!_  
  
The rope fell from her fingers. She floated upwards as her body went numb, revolving around. Ginny’s eyes darted around, and then she spotted a shape moving rapidly towards her. Her brain hurt without oxygen, but she focused on it.  
  
_Harry!_  
  
Ginny’s lips curled in a smile. Harry would save her. He swam unnaturally fast towards her, but she wasn’t paying attention. He came to a stop right in front of her, and pressed his lips to hers. Had she not been drowning, she would have thought that illogical, until Harry forced her lips apart with his tongue and exhaled into her mouth.  
  
Her lungs filled with the used air. The throbbing in her brain lessened. Harry pulled back and severed the rope with a sharp rock. He flicked back to her and exhaled into her mouth again.  
  
_How — how are you breathing?_ Ginny asked him. He didn’t answer her, but grabbed her hand and tugged her upwards. There was something odd about his fingers; she couldn’t lace hers in them. Harry drew her to his chest and pressed his mouth over hers, breathing into her. Ginny, now a little more aware, glanced around. She started as her eyes fell on Harry’s neck; there were slashes on his skin. But it wasn’t bleeding, and as he swam, they moved gently.  
  
They were gills.  
  
Her head broke the surface, startling her. She blinked several times, and when she looked around, she was standing in the Entrance Hall. Water dripped from her hair and her pajamas, pooling on the ground.  
  
_What on Earth?_ Ginny thought as her eyes scanned the hall. Not fifteen feet from her stood a wooden cup on a post. She stepped towards it, her brows knitting together. Suddenly blue flames leapt from the rim of the cup; she jumped backwards, startled. In the flames, a slip of paper floated, the edges blackening slowly. Something was written on it.  
  
_Harry Potter; Strawgoh._  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow. What the heck was Strawgoh?  
  
She glanced around the hall. Her eye caught on an open door. She stepped towards it, and peered around it. She heard a low rhythmic thunking, and saw the edge of a cloak vanishing past the corner.  
  
Ginny stepped through the doorway, and onto empty air. She plummeted, a scream tearing itself from her throat, arms and legs flailing widely.  
  
“Ginny! Wake up!”  
  
“Wha — what?” Ginny sat bolt up-right, looking around her in a panic.  
  
Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati stood over her, looking at her with worry.  
  
“What were you dreaming?” Hermione asked softly.  
  
“I, uh, it was nothing,” Ginny said. “What time is it?”  
  
“Sixish,” Lavender said. “We only noticed you thrashing about because your alarm started beeping but you weren’t switching it off.”  
  
“Oh,” Ginny mumbled. “Sorry.”  
  
Lavender waved a hand. “It’s fine. We had to get up anyway. I get first shower!” She walked away, towards the bathroom. There were four shower stalls, but they had discovered the night before two of them only had cold water and the third didn’t give any water at all. Someone would come fix it soon. Parvati gave Ginny a little wave before going back to her bed. Hermione stayed back, her expression worried.  
  
“Was it the Chamber?” Hermione asked her quietly.  
  
Ginny frowned at her, then shook her head. “No, no, it was… weird. I was in this field, looking up at the sky, then I was in the sky and the dew drops on the grass made these weird pictures and then I was underwater, drowning. But then Harry came and he had gills; he breathed into me so I didn’t drown, and then I was in the Great Hall and there was this cup with fire in it and there was a piece of paper in the fire with Harry’s name on it, and someone was leaving the Hall. When I tried to follow them, everything just vanished and I was falling.”  
  
Hermione sat down on the bed, her face contemplative. “That is weird,” she said. “There wasn’t any kind of order to it?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“What was in the pictures?”  
  
“A bunch of things,” Ginny answered. “I saw myself in bed, an old man, a snake, these two men looking at a blackboard with all this stuff taped to it.”  
  
Hermione frowned. “Stuff?”  
  
“Yeah, Muggle photos, pieces of paper, and there was a list of names written on it.”  
  
“What were the men wearing?”  
  
Ginny frowned, thinking back. “Err, one was wearing this blue or black vest sort of thing with a badge or something on it, the other man had on brown trousers and a white shirt.”  
  
“That sounds like a policeman,” Hermione said.  
  
“A what?”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ginny, we learned about them first week in Muggle Studies. They’re Muggle law enforcement.”  
  
“What would I be dreaming about Muggle law enforcement for?”  
  
Hermione shrugged. “What were in the photographs?”  
  
Ginny paused again, remembering. “An old house, a man holding up this board or plate thing with words on it, don’t remember what it said…”  
  
“I bet they were investigating something,” Hermione said.  
  
Ginny yawned widely. “Yeah, probably.” She tossed back her blankets and stood, stretching. “I’d better get in line for the shower before Parvati.” Hermione stood up as well and went back to her bed. Ginny opened her trunk and pulled her toiletry bag from it along with clothes. She walked to the bathroom door and leaned up against the door-jam to wait.  
  
_You awake?_ She thought.  
  
_Nooo…_ Harry groaned.  
  
_Wake up.  
  
Nooo!_  
  
Ginny hummed a tune, and began singing the lyrics in her head. _Good morning to you, good morning to you —  
  
No! Please not that!  
  
GOOD MORNING TO YOU, GOOD MORNING TO YOU, WE’RE ALL IN OUR PLACES —  
  
NOOO!  
  
WITH SMILES ON OUR FACES!_  
  
Harry groaned aloud; Ginny felt him grab his pillow and clamp it over his ears.  
  
_What good is to cover your ears when the noise is in your head?_ Ginny asked him.  
  
_Sleeeeeep…  
  
Sorry, sweetie, but I’ve got to talk to you._  
  
Harry groaned and rolled over. _Whaaat?  
  
I had a weird dream.  
  
You always have weird dreams.  
  
Weirder than normal._  
  
Harry rubbed his face vigorously. _What happened?_  
  
Ginny recalled the strange events and showed them to him. Then she guessed Harry had jumped up or something because she was suddenly vaguely dizzy.  
  
_I know that man!  
  
What man?  
  
The old man, the one in the photo holding a board. I dreamt about him a few weeks ago._  
  
Ginny scowled up at the ceiling. _Why didn’t you tell me?  
  
I forgot. Anyway, I saw the old man go into this big house — the one in that photograph — and he went upstairs._  
  
Harry’s thoughts faded. Ginny frowned. _What?  
  
He went upstairs… and that snake you saw, it was there. It slithered past him, into a room with a fire going, and there were two men in the room. One of them didn’t look human; I don’t remember exactly what he looked like or why but… and the other man had his back to me most of the time, and when he did face me his face was in shadow so I don’t know who it was. But the snake spoke to the weird man, and he called in the old man, and then he killed him._  
  
Ginny fell silent. She thought back through her dream, comparing the moments with the old man to Harry’s dream.  
  
_What about the rest of it?_  
  
Ginny shrugged. _I can’t make sense of it. That thing with the water was really weird. I actually thought I was drowning._  
  
In his dormitory, Harry frowned at the canopy above his bed. _That was strange. You’ve never had a fear of drowning before. And why would I have gills?  
  
I don’t know._  
  
Lavender left the bathroom with a towel on her head. Ginny slipped inside and shut the door behind her. _All right, out for now. I’ll be done in a minute._  
  
Harry mumbled something, and Ginny closed the mental door between them. Fifteen minutes later, she was brushing her teeth. She had left the door shut since Harry had shouted through it that he was going to take his shower. He’d open the mental flow from his side when he was done.  
  
Ginny left the bathroom and shoved her stuff in her trunk. Then, grabbing her shoes and a hair brush, she dropped back onto her bed. She inhaled and attacked her mane of hair with the brush.  
  
“Oh, stop, stop, you’re going to rip it all out!” Lavender said, running over. “All that lovely red hair, and you’re treating it like a rug!”  
  
“It IS a rug,” Ginny said irritatedly. Lavender tugged the brush out of her hands and started picking at the strands.  
  
“Parvati, can you hand me that bottle of leave-in conditioner?” Lavender called. Parvati nodded, pulled a bottle out of Lavender’s stuff, and brought it to her. Lavender squirted some of it out and massaged it into Ginny’s hair. Five minutes later, Lavender ran the brush through it without a single snag.  
  
“There,” Lavender said, setting down the brush. “Now just dry it with your wand and it will be beautiful!”  
  
Ginny nodded. “Thanks,” she said. She wasn’t sure what else to say; Lavender smiled at her as though she had just given her a million Galleons and walked back to her bed. Ginny put the brush back in her trunk and pushed her feet into her sneakers.  
  
Hermione flopped onto Ginny’s bed with a sigh.  
  
“You got us up an hour early, you know,” Hermione said. Ginny shrugged flopped down next to her. Hermione sniffed, and looked at her.  
  
“Did you put something in your hair?”  
  
“Lavender did,” Ginny answered. Hermione nodded slowly.  
  
“It smells nice.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“Hey,” Parvati called. “Us two are going down to meet up with some boys. You want to join?”  
  
Hermione and Ginny exchanged looks. “Sure,” Ginny said. She sent a mental explanation that she was going down early. Lavender led them out of the dorm and to the common room. Parvati linked arms with Hermione and Lavender threaded her arm through Ginny’s.  
  
“So, how was your summer?” Lavender asked sweetly.  
  
“Good,” Ginny answered. “We saw the Quidditch World Cup.”  
  
“That’s nice,” Parvati replied absently. She waved to someone in the common room. “You meet anyone?”  
  
Ginny frowned. “Er, a few people. Why?”  
  
Lavender giggled. “No, silly, she means boys.”  
  
“Oh!” Ginny blushed gently. “No, none that I remember.”  
  
“So you’re still with Harry Potter?” Lavender asked quietly.  
  
“Yes,” Ginny answered stiffly. She did not like being questioned about her love life. Both Lavender and Parvati’s smile didn’t seem as genuine as they had been a moment before.  
  
“What about you, Hermione?” Parvati asked.  
  
“Oh, no one in particular,” Hermione said, but her cheeks tinged pink. Ginny smirked. Was ‘no one in particular’ what Hermione was referring to Ron as these days?  
  
“Come on, you can tell us!” Lavender pressed. Apparently, she hadn’t fallen for it either.  
  
Hermione blushed harder and shook her head. “No, no one new this summer.” Lavender sighed but seemed to let it drop.  
  
They reached the Great Hall and the two divas left to join another group of girls. Ginny picked a spot that was mostly deserted and dropped onto a bench. Hermione sat beside her and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. Ginny cupped her chin in her palm and stared blankly at a bowl full of bacon.  
  
_I’ll be there in a minute, Ron’s trying to find his other shoe._ Ginny received an image of Ron lying flat on his bed, staring under it with his hair brushing the floor. Ginny smiled.  
  
The rest of the day passed by like normal. She and Hermione left Ron and Harry first period for Muggle Studies while they went to Divination, met up at Transfiguration, stuck together during lunch, and then went to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus’ first lesson of the year was a great success; he presented the class with a spectacular duel between him and Sirius, demonstrating two different counter-curses, Impedimenta Jinx and the Stunning Spell. By the end of class, Ginny could cast a decent Impedimenta and a more than decent Stunner. She had even knocked out Sirius!  
  
Their first Potions lesson of the year was second period on Friday. Ginny was crossing her fingers in anticipation of it. As the day and hour approached, Hermione crammed on her notes from the previous years, Ron and Harry discussed Professor Moody’s career in the Auror Department, and the entire school buzzed. Snape had held the position of potions master for 12 years; they were all eager for a new one.  
  
The fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins had all filed into the classroom by 9:45, all chattering excitedly. Ginny sat on her hands to keep from fidgeting. Hermione was chewing on her lip; Ron was watching her do so with a funny look on his face.  
  
“CONSTANT VIGILENCE!”  
  
The entire class jumped in their seats. Harry had drawn his wand and was looking around in surprise. Professor Moody stood in the doorway, his face in shadow, leaning on his walking stick.  
  
“That caught your attention,” he remarked in a gruff voice. Everyone was silent as he limped to the teacher’s desk, his wooden leg clunking horribly with each step. He turned to face them, and his magical eye shot around the room unnaturally, scanning each face.  
  
“How can you tell if someone’s poisoned your food?” he barked. No one raised a hand, not even Hermione. He raised an eyebrow. “No one?”  
  
Ginny pondered a moment, then reached cautiously into Tom’s memories and searched them. Then she shyly raised her hand.  
  
Both of Moody’s eyes fixed on her. “Yes, Miss?”  
  
“Weasley,” she said. “It depends on the poison, but if it’s a poison brewed by a Wizard, there is a spell to reveal if anyone with magic has tampered with your food.”  
  
Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow. She showed him the thought trail that had brought her to the spell. Moody nodded at her, and his magical eye flicked towards Harry.  
  
“That’s one way to do it,” he said. “Anyone else?”  
  
Ginny thought harder. Obviously, he wasn’t looking for a spell. Moody’s eye whizzed around the room, then stopped suddenly somewhere behind Ginny.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Ginny twisted in her chair, to see Neville looking up at his hand in surprise. He gulped, and lowered it quickly.  
  
“There’s, er, a root that if stewed long enough will show if someone put stuff in your food if your pour a few drops of the water you boiled the root in onto it.”  
  
Moody nodded again. “What’s this root called, Mr.?”  
  
“Longbottom, sir,” Neville replied, glancing down at his feet. “It’s the root of a flower called Garederen. It’s found in tropical climates near fresh water springs.”  
  
“Good,” Moody growled. He turned back to the class at large. “Garederen root is difficult to procure, but fortunately for you I have been to a region where it grows in abundance recently. Like Mr. Longbottom said, when stewed for seven hours it will expose any harmful substance on any food except for a few fruits and alcoholic drinks. Another thing, if you take the stewed root and mash it with ordinary parsnips, peppermint extract, and crushed bezoars to make a paste, it can counteract most poisons in addition to revealing them. That is what we are doing this afternoon. I need everyone to come up here and take your roots and bezoars,” Moody turned away; the class stood up hastily, scraping their benches back, and moved to Moody’s desk.  
  
Ginny waited behind Hermione, and once she received her root, which was held in small glass jar, and bezoar, returned to her seat. A minute or so later, the entire class returned to their seats. Moody dropped into his chair with a sigh, and put his wooden leg up on a stool.  
  
“First thing you need to do,” he said, “is put down that magazine!” Moody’s magic eye fixed on a desk in the back; Ginny turned and saw a group of girls blushing and one hastily putting a glossy magazine into her bag. Moody grunted and his magic eye flicked down to a paper on his desk. “First, you need to boil your parsnips until they get soft. Now!”  
  
Ginny threw open her potion making kit. Parsnips weren’t commonly used in potion making, but it was a required ingredient on her list this year so she had plenty. She pulled out a handful of the white carrot-like vegetables and put them into her caldron. She pulled out a measuring cup and went to back of the class to fill it with water. Soon the water was bubbling gently in her caldron.  
  
“Once it comes to a boil, you need to heat up your Garederen roots,” Moody said. “Use your wand and warm them until they reach about 99 degrees. Quick tip: Your internal body temperature is normally about 95 to 98 degrees, so if you stick your finger in the root and it does not feel warm then it is less than 95 degrees. If you stick your finger in and it is warm, but only mildly so, then it is the correct temperature. If it is hot, then you’ve exceeded 99 degrees.”  
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows; she hadn’t known that. Judging by the look on Hermione’s face, she hadn’t known that factoid either. Ginny tapped the jar of roots with her wand. Steam fogged the glass within a minute; Ginny stuck a pinkie in the glob of brownish green root. It was warm.  
  
Moody continued. “After heating the roots, drain the water from your caldron and add the roots.” Ginny did so. “Take a wooden spoon and stir it until the parsnips and Garederen roots are completely mixed. Then add one tablespoon of the peppermint extract.” They followed his instructions; Ginny measured her peppermint extract carefully and poured it into the caldron. “Increase the heat, cover it, and let it sit for twenty minutes.” Ginny added more fuel to the fire under her caldron and put the lid on top. Moody checked his watch, and turned back to the class.  
  
“While we wait, I want everyone to pick a partner,” he growled. Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged at her. People were getting up and moving around the room. Ron glanced around, spotted Neville moving toward them, and threw an arm around Hermione. Hermione started, then blushed and avoided Ron’s gaze. Harry rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Ginny sniggered, but her smirk turned to a frown when she saw Parvati edging her way through the crowd towards them.  
  
_Look out,_ Ginny thought. Harry looked up, then turned back to her and raised an eyebrow.  
  
_What?  
  
You know she was asking about you this morning?_ Ginny replied. _She wanted to know if we were still together.  
  
She was probably just curious,_ Harry thought. He scooted closer to her on the bench just the same.  
  
“Hey,” Parvati said, smiling warmly at them, “would you be my partner, Harry?”  
  
Harry turned pink and looked down at his fingers. Ginny pursed her lips, trying not to seem amused by her boyfriend.  
  
“Er, no thanks,” he said, grabbing Ginny’s hand. “I’m already Ginny’s.”  
  
Parvati’s smile soured slightly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Moody banged his walking stick.  
  
“Miss Patil,” he boomed, “partner up with Mr. Longbottom.”  
  
Parvati scowled, but obeyed. Moody turned around and tapped the black board with his wand. A grid wrote itself onto it.  
  
“We’re going to do a quick activity,” Moody said. Harry and Ginny exchanged confused glances. "I want all of you to open your books and choose a poison or other mind altering potion and then find its antidote. Write down a description of the poison and its antidote on two pieces of paper and bring them to me.”  
  
Ginny glanced at Harry and shrugged. The students all opened their potions books; Ginny ran her finger down the contents table, then flipped to the chapter on poisons and antidotes.  
  
_How about this one?_ Harry asked mentally. Ginny found the poison he was looking at; which was the very first one. She rolled her eyes.  
  
_You can put a little more effort in, you know._  
  
Harry huffed. _Fine._  
  
Ginny gazed blankly at her book. Most of these were either obvious or overly-simple.  
  
_What’s wrong with simple?  
  
I’d like a little bit of elegance,_ Ginny replied, turning a page.  
  
_What about this one?_ Ginny glanced at his page. A poison made from powdered dragon claw and the mucus of a dart frog. It made the victim spontaneously combust. Ginny raised an eyebrow. _Also some subtly._ Harry shrugged. Ginny turned back to her page. An entry at the bottom of the right page caught her eye.  
  
_Look at this one,_ Ginny pointed it out and Harry turned back to read it. _Vida ido Frio, invented in 1676 by Spanish alchemist Philipito de Valencia. It is easily slipped into any food, but is only for the patient as the poison is very slow acting.  
  
It enters the blood stream and slowly builds up blood clots by freezing blood vessels,_ Harry continued. _Once the victim is dead, the blood clots melt and it appears as natural causes. One dose is not enough to kill, it requires three separate dosages before the blood clots become large enough to cause damage._  
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows. _Sounds good._  
  
Harry shrugged. _As long as we get a good grade, I don’t really care._  
  
Ginny glanced at the ingredient list, then examined the antidote. It seemed that the antidote they were already brewing would also counteract this poison, but only if they added a kicker like cayenne or chili peppers to melt the ice. She copied the descriptions onto paper, and stood. Moody glanced up at the sound of her bench scraping the stone floor. She stepped forward and handed him the paper. Moody’s normal eye moved over the paper, his magical eye whizzed around to fix on her.  
  
“Good choice,” Moody growled; he ripped the paper in half and set each into a bowl on the desk. “You can have a seat.”  
  
Ginny smiled and resumed her seat. Harry checked his watch. _Ten more minutes before the antidote’s done._  
  
Ginny yawned; amidst her crazy dreams, she hadn’t slept well. She dropped her head onto Harry’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Harry put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. She smiled.  
  
Ten minutes later, Moody called for the last of the poison/antidote pairs. “Uncover your caldrons,” he said gruffly. Ginny picked up her head and lifted the lid on her caldron; tan colored steam rushed out, filling her nostrils with the sharp scent of peppermint and a musty smell she guessed came from the roots.  
  
“The solids should have sunk to the bottom and burned, I want you to scrape everything out into another bowl, a medium sized one should work, and blend it together.”  
  
_Blend?_ Ginny thought, glancing at Harry. He shrugged. Moody stood and moved towards the desks. He stuck what was left of his nose into the steam issuing from Ginny’s caldron. Ginny bit her lip. Moody picked up her wooden spoon, and set out a metal bowl. He flicked his wand and the caldron lifted up and started pouring into the bowl.  
  
“Every bit of crust on the bottom needs to come out,” he said gruffly as he began scraping. Around her, the other fourth years copied Professor Moody’s actions. Ginny’s ears were warm. Moody got the last of it out and the caldron set itself down. He tossed aside the spoon and pointed his wand at the goop in the bowl.  
  
“The spell you need to use is the Miscest Charm. Move your wand in a circular motion and use the incantation Misceo until it becomes a thin fluid.”  
  
The goop folded in on itself, rapidly becoming a liquid. Moody lifted his wand and returned to his desk. Ginny picked up her own wand, but the mixture was already thinned out.  
  
The bell rang a minute later; Moody barked out the homework, bring in six inches of parchment on the poison of their choice and another three on the antidote.  
  
So proceeded September. They began a study of the progression of technology from the colonization of America to the 19th century and the Industrial Revolution in Muggle Studies. McGonagall started a unit on animal transfiguration; turning mice into bars of soap and tea pots into kittens and the like; Remus continued teaching them counter-curses; Binns drawled on about Goblin rebellions. Ginny had no more strange dreams, until the Friday the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrived.  
  
They were lined up by year, Ginny stood between Harry and Ron, talking quietly with Hermione over Ron’s crossed arms. It was cold, he’d forgotten his cloak, and he’d missed lunch because he had to do last minute Charms homework. He was irritated.  
  
“When are they going to get here?” Ron growled. “I want dinner.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. Ginny gave her twin an exasperated look. Ron stuck his tongue out at her; she pushed it back into his mouth with a gloved finger. Unlike him, she had expected it to be cold outside.  
  
“Look!” someone down the line shouted. Every eye was drawn upward, to a dark speck coming rapidly towards them.  
  
“What is that?” someone behind her asked.  
  
“It’s a UFO!” squeaked a third year girl.  
  
“No, stupid, aliens aren’t real,” a fifth year said.  
  
“It’s Santa Claus!” shouted Denis Creevey.  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow. Harry chuckled, and thought of a drawing from a children’s book, of a sleigh crossing in front of the moon pulled by reindeer. The speck turned out to be close; a carriage the size of a house thudded to the ground, huge winged horses trotted to a stop in front of them. The door to the carriage bore a coat of arms; two wands crossed and shooting sparks. It opened, and a boy in royal blue robes stepped out and set out a stool.  
  
Then a foot exited the carriage and set itself on top of the stool. Ginny raised an eyebrow; the foot was inside a size hundred black pump. The woman that stepped out wore rich blue robes like the boy, glinting jewels at her neck and fingers, dark hair drawn into a bun at the nape of her neck, and was at least ten feet tall.  
  
“Madam Maxine,” Professor Dumbledore said warmly as he stepped forward. “Welcome to Hogwarts.” He took her huge hand and kissed her jeweled knuckle.  
  
“Dumbly-door,” Madam Maxine purred deeply in a heavy French accent, “eet iz good to see you.” She turned back to the carriage waved a hand to the people now coming out. “My students,” she said. The Beauxbatons’ students shivered in the wind, clutching meager cloaks and shawls around their shoulders.  
  
“I expect it’s quite warm still in France,” Hermione said in a stage whisper around Ron.  
  
“Shouldn’t they have expected it to be cold here, though?” Ginny whispered back.  
  
“Well, Ron didn’t and he lives here,” Hermione replied. Ron scowled at her.  
  
Dumbledore spoke with Madam Maxine a moment longer, then gestured to another teacher. Professor Sinestra stepped forward, then led the French guests inside. Dumbledore adjusted his pointed hat and turned back to face the grounds.  
  
“Now the Durmstrangs,” Harry muttered. Ginny slipped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, but snapped them back open a second later as another cry sounded. Ginny’s eyes scanned the sky, but found nothing. Harry nudged her and pointed to the lake, where a flag-topped pole was rising out of the water. Ginny raised her eyebrows. The pole, Harry told her that it was a mast, moved towards them, rising still. A sail rose up, followed by another, until a full ship rose up out of the water. It came to a stop, and dropped anchor. Then a group of people boarded a row-boat and sailed for the shore. Ginny saw as they stepped onto the shore that these people were dressed in thick coats and fur caps. They fell into two lines, led by a man dressed in white furs that Ginny could tell were quite expensive even from the distance.  
  
The Durmstrang students came to a stop before Dumbledore. Many of them saluted him; Dumbledore smiled welcoming at them all.  
  
“Albus,” said the leading man with a grin. His teeth were yellowed, and though his curly goatee was pure black, the hair curling out from beneath his fur cap was shot with gray. Dumbledore extended a hand, and the two shook.  
  
“Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore said cheerily, “welcome!”  
  
Ginny sucked in her breath.  
  
_What?_ Harry thought, glancing at her with a frown.  
  
_Karkaroff,_ Ginny thought with a slight tremor. _Remember when I told you Hogwarts used to have a pen pal program?  
  
Yeah?  
  
Tom Riddle’s pen pal was called Karkaroff._  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows. _I’ll keep an eye on him._  
  
Ginny nodded vaguely. Her eye had been caught on one of the students at the head of the line. She nudged Ron.  
  
“Is that?” she whispered.  
  
Ron frowned as he focused on the tall, droop-shouldered boy. Then he gasped. “It is!” he said in awe.  
  
“What?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Viktor Krum!” Ginny and Ron said in unison. The other students had noticed this as well; somewhere to Ginny’s right a bunch of girls were giggling and whispering about autographs. Ginny rolled her eyes at them, but she was bouncing on the balls of her feet as well. The very same hands that caught the snitch at the final of the Quidditch World Cup would be at her school for the rest of the year!  
  
Dumbledore led them all inside, Ron muttering about how it was about time; they filled the Great Hall for dinner. There were several foreign dishes on the tables; Hermione guessed they were there to make the guests feel at home. One of the Beauxbatons girl’s felt at home enough to come over and ask for one of the French dishes. Ron was drooling by the time she walked away, and Hermione was huffing into her steak and kidney pie. Ron swore the girl had to be part veela. Harry simply shrugged and went back to his potatoes. Then, as the dishes cleared themselves, Dumbledore rose and called for quiet.  
  
“To our guests, I say welcome once more,” he said, spreading his hands wide. “Now, the moment has arrived. The Triwizard Tournament is about to officially begin. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —”  
  
“The what now?” Ron hissed.  
  
“Shh!” Hermione hissed back.  
  
“— just to clarify the procedure we will be following throughout the tournament. But first, let me introduce to you, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation —” Ginny clapped politely along with the rest of the Hall as Crouch stood up —“and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.” This time the applause was much louder, was Bagman rose from his seat and waved cheerily.  
  
“Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman have worked tirelessly over these last few months on the arrangements of the Tournament,” Dumbledore continued. “They will be joining Professor Karkaroff, Madam Maxine, and myself on the panel that shall be judging the champion’s efforts.” The restlessness in the hall seemed to stifle, as every mind refocused on Dumbledore’s words. The old professor smiled, as though he had noticed them redirecting their attention, and waved towards the door at the end of the teacher’s table. Filch had been standing there, unnoticed. “The casket, if you please, Mr. Filch.”  
  
Filch nodded stiffly and disappeared through the door. A moment later he came back out carrying a weathered, wooden chest. The surface of the old wood was laden with bright jewels, all blinking in the lights. Ginny eyed it uncertainly. She had a funny feeling in her gut, almost like déjà vu.  
  
“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” Dumbledore said as Filch set the chest almost reverently on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and the will test each champion in different ways: Their magical powers, their daring, their powers of deduction, and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”  
  
Ginny held her breath; briefly her mind conjured an image of herself defeating each of the three tasks and winning.  
  
“As you know, three champions will be selected to compete, one from each school. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tasks and the champion with the highest total at the close of the Tournament shall be crowned the winner of the Triwizard Cup. These champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”  
  
The entire hall was silent as Dumbledore took his wand and tapped the chest before him three times. The old hinges protested as the lid swung open. The professor reached into it, and drew out an over-sized, hand-carved wooden cup. Dancing in its depths, almost spilling over the rim, were white blue flames. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat. The feeling of dèjà vu turned into leaden dread in her throat. She had seen that cup before…  
  
Dumbledore closed the chest and set the goblet on its lid. The flames danced innocently, but Ginny suddenly felt like their icy fire was clenching her heart.  
  
“Anyone wishing to submit themselves into the Tournament should write their name and school on parchment and drop it into the flames,” Dumbledore said. Ginny’s eyes grew even wider. “Any aspiring champion has twenty-four hours to do so. Tomorrow evening, Halloween, the goblet shall spit back out the names of those it has deemed most worthy to represent their school. The goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be available to all.  
  
“To ensure that no underage student attempts to enter the Tournament,” Dumbledore said, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been put into place. No one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross that line.”  
  
Ginny glanced at Harry. He frowned and mouthed “What?” She shook her head, mentally telling him to wait. Dumbledore wasn’t done.  
  
“I would like to impress upon those wishing to enter that this tournament is not to be taken lightly. Once you place your name in the goblet, there is no going back. Entering your name creates a binding, magical contract that demands that if you are chosen, you must participate. Before entering, please be sure that you are wholeheartedly willing to endure the challenges the champions must face.” Dumbledore smiled again. “Now, I believe it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”  
  
The benches scraped against the stone floor as students stood and made their way to the doors. Ginny linked her arm through Harry’s as she walked, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder at the Goblet of Fire.  
  
_What’s the matter?_ Harry asked her.  
  
_That cup,_ she thought. _I’ve seen it before! Something bad is going to happen, I know it._  
  
Harry laced his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand. _We’ll be fine,_ he thought. Ginny nodded, but she wasn’t sure she could believe him. The cold dread had spread from her throat to her chest.  
  
“Where do you think the Durmstrangs are sleeping?” Ron asked. “I wouldn’t mind giving Krum my bed. I could kip on a cot.”  
  
“They’re probably staying on their ship,” Hermione said. “Likewise for the Beauxbatons’ students.”  
  
Ginny glanced at the group of Durmstrangs. Karkaroff had come down and was leading them back out, talking with Viktor Krum. The excitement she had felt earlier at the Quidditch player’s arrival had faded now. The four of them reached the door at the same time as Karkaroff and his students; they paused to let them pass.  
  
“Thank you,” Karkaroff said, glancing at them uninterestedly. Then he froze and his gaze snapped back to Harry’s face. His students stopped moving too. Karkaroff turned to face Harry properly, his face showing surprise. The others were staring at Harry too now. Ginny felt Harry’s irritation at them all staring at him, or rather his scar. The corners of her mouth turned down; she’d like to hex Karkaroff’s rude butt through the door. Several of his students were whispering and pointing now.  
  
“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” growled a voice behind them. Ginny turned, to see Professor Moody standing behind them with a scowl on his scarred face. “If you’re all done gawking, you’re blocking the doorway.”  
  
Karkaroff turned to face him; the Durmstrang Headmaster paled. “You!” he rasped.  
  
“Me,” Moody agreed irritatedly. “Do you mind?”  
  
Karkaroff set his jaw, then, glancing back at Harry, gestured to his students to keep moving. Ginny scowled at their retreating backs.  
  
“Come on,” Ron said, pushing past them towards the stairs.  
  
Ginny and Hermione left the boys in the common room; Ginny took a hot shower, trying to drown the dread that still persisted. She could not remember for the life of her why that cup meant foul weather in the future.  
  
That night she tossed and turned; sleep eluded her actively. Blue white fire burned over her eyelids, and once she did finally slip into dreamland, her dreams still battered her. She kept seeing the Goblet of Fire. Its flames turned scarlet and spit out paper, but try as she could, she never could snatch them out of the air before they combusted.  
  
Hermione woke her the next morning around eleven. Ginny’s muscles were sore and she felt anything but rested. They gathered in the common room where Hermione insisted they do homework. Ron and Harry were off doing something else, so Hermione asked her to tell Harry to come join them. The two of them had more homework than they did. Ginny did, and twenty minutes later Harry dropped onto the couch beside her, a grumbling Ron on his heels. Five minutes later, Ginny had curled up with her head in his lap and was sleeping. Harry joined her dreams not long after that.  
  
_Ginny? Ginny, wake up._  
  
Ginny groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.  
  
“It’s time for dinner,” Harry said softly in her ear.  
  
“No,” she mumbled. Harry kissed the tender flesh behind her ear. She smiled as her spine shivered.  
  
“The champions are going to be selected,” he reminded her. Ginny sighed and opened her eyes. The common room was dark; it seemed most people had already left for dinner. Ginny sat up and ran a hand through her hair. Harry stood up and offered her a hand. Smiling, she took it and let him lead her from the common room.  
  
Dinner was tense; everyone was waiting for the naming of the champions. The Goblet of Fire stood before the teacher’s table, burning brightly. Ginny picked at her food and ended up dropping her head onto Harry’s shoulder.  
  
As soon as the desserts vanished, Dumbledore called for quiet again. Ginny straightened, all the students fell silent.  
  
“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” he said. “I speculate that it requires a moment more. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them to please come up the top of the hall, walk along the staff table and go through into the next chamber —” Dumbledore extended a hand to the door to his right —“where they will wait for their first instructions.”  
  
Then Dumbledore passed his wand over the hall, and every candle went out, plunging them into semidarkness. The only source of light came from the Goblet’s flames, flickering gently. The flame illuminated each eager face, stretching to the very back of the hall. Ginny watched the fire, and was reminded of something. Her eyes went wide, her heart beat faster in her chest. The dream she had had at the beginning of the year; the flame-filled cup that had emitted a slip of parchment. Parchment that had Harry’s name written on it.  
  
The flame turned red; Ginny bit her lip. It convulsed, and spat out a smoking paper. Dumbledore caught it and unfolded it.  
  
“The champion for Durmstrang is,” Dumbledore called, “Mr. Viktor Krum!”  
  
Cheers came from the Slytherin table where the Durmstrang students were seated. Viktor Krum stood, his stooped silhouette casting a shadow in the Goblet’s light, and made his way to the top table. Dumbledore shook his hand, and Krum exited through the door. Ginny scanned for Karkaroff’s face, the headmaster was smirking.  
  
The flame reddened again, and out flew another slip of paper. Dumbledore snatched it from the air.  
  
“The champion for Beauxbatons’ Academy is… Miss Fleur Delacour!”  
  
Ginny turned to see the Ravenclaw table, where the Beauxbatons were seated as the hall applauded again.  
  
“It’s her!” Ron cheered. The girl who resembled a veela had stood up and was walking towards the teacher’s table.  
  
“They’re disappointed,” Hermione said, “look.” Indeed, the other Beauxbatons’ were not cheering, in fact, two of the girls had started crying into their hands. Ron was not looking, rather he was watching Fleur walk to Dumbledore. Hermione caught sight of his expression and scowled. Ginny felt the need to elbow him very hard in the ribs.  
  
As Ron stifled obscenities, the Goblet of Fire spewed a third piece of paper. The hall went silent. Ginny bit her lip, praying what she feared would happen would not. Dumbledore caught it; he brushed aside stray sparks and read the name.  
  
“For Hogwarts,” he called, “the champion is Mr. Cedric Diggory!”  
  
Ginny joined in the applause with relief; the entire Hufflepuff table erupted with cheering as Diggory stood and made his way proudly to the top of the hall. It hadn’t been Harry; Ginny clapped hard enough to make her palms sting.  
  
Dumbledore waved for quiet, and eventually quiet came. “We now have our three champions!” Dumbledore called. “I am sure I can count on all of you, including the remaining students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, to cheer on your champion as they face each task. By supporting them, you are contributing in a very real —”  
  
Dumbledore stopped midsentence, turning to face the Goblet again. The hall seemed to hold its breath. The flames had turned red again. Ginny’s heart stopped in her chest.  
  
The fire sparked as a fourth piece of parchment flew into the air. Dumbledore, almost automatically, reached out a trembling hand to catch it. He unfolded the paper, slowly, painstakingly, and read it by the light of the now blue flame. Ginny’s fists clenched in her lap. _Please no, please don’t be —_  
  
“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore called in shock.  



	15. A Fourth Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue taken from the book, chapter 17 to be exact

**Fifteen: The Goblet of Fire, Part Two  
A Fourth Champion  
  
Ginny**

  
  
G inny’s fists clenched, her fingernails digging into her palm. Harry’s face went pale; his mind frozen. Every eye had turned to stare at him.  
  
“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore called again. Harry didn’t move.  
  
_You are fu —  
  
Harry!_ Ginny thought hastily. _Just go. You need to go.  
  
No, no I am not moving. I am hearing things, he is calling someone else._  
  
Ginny glanced at Dumbledore; the professor’s face was unreadable. Ginny pushed Harry up. _He did call you. You have to go._  
  
Harry glanced at her; his eyes were wide but his jaw clenched. Ginny gave him one more push, and he started down the aisle. Whispers reached Ginny’s ear; she cracked her knuckles in annoyance. Couldn’t they just shut up? Did they have to mutter about his every move?  
  
Harry reached Dumbledore; the old man didn’t shake his hand, he just touched Harry’s shoulder and said something in his ear. Harry nodded and left the hall through the door. Ginny closed her eyes and focused on his thoughts. His hands were trembling as he walked. Portraits along the walls fluttered about, whispering to each other and watching Harry apprehensively. One woman darted out of her frame and out of sight. Harry pushed open a door and stepped inside a small room. Fleur Delacour, Cedric Diggory, and Viktor Krum all stood at the other end of the room, facing a fire. He felt dwarfed by their shadows, she could tell. Harry hesitated in the doorway.  
  
_What do I do?_ he thought.  
  
Ginny bit her lip; Dumbledore, Madam Maxine, and Professor Karkaroff were all talking amongst themselves. Both Madam Maxine and Karkaroff looked angry.  
  
She focused on Harry’s thoughts again. The other champions had turned to face him.  
  
“What is it?” asked Fleur Delacour. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”  
  
Ginny felt his awkward confusion as he stood in the doorway. Movement at the top table caught her attention; she re-focused and caught sight of Ludo Bagman pushing his way past the other teachers’ chairs and moving through the door.  
  
Harry’s thoughts were muddled. _What should I say? What the hell did I get picked for? Why me?!  
  
I don’t know,_ Ginny thought back. _Something’s very wrong.  
  
Oh, no duh, Sherlock.  
  
What?  
  
Nothing, never mind. But what do I say?_  
  
Harry’s attention shifted, Ginny strained her mind to see what he saw. Ludo Bagman had entered the room. She saw him as though through a clouded window, the image warping at the edges and color appearing faded at the sides. Bagman came forward and gripped Harry’s arm, pulling him forward.  
  
“Extraordinary!” Bagman cried. “Absolutely extraordinary!”  
  
_I’ll show you something extraordinary,_ Harry thought irritatedly. _My wand up your —  
  
Listen!_ Ginny scolded.  
  
“Gentlemen, lady,” Bagman continued, his voice was slightly distant, and sounded as though she was listening to a radio in another room. “Might I introduce to you, incredible though it may seem, the **fourth** Triwizard Champion?”  
  
The three older champions looked taken aback. Krum straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, his face dark. Cedric Diggory simply knitted together his eyebrows at Harry. Fleur, though, smirked, tossing her long, silvery hair.  
  
“Vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman,” she said, her thick French accent reaching her mind garbled.  
  
“It’s no joke,” Bagman assured them, “Harry’s name has come from the Goblet of Fire!”  
  
Cedric looked even further confused. Krum’s eyes fixed on Harry; Ginny even could feel the intensity of his gaze. Fleur frowned, looking between Harry and Bagman with sudden bewilderment.  
  
“But evidentially zair ‘as been a mistake,” Fleur said, her voice dismissing Harry. “’E cannot compete, ‘e is too young.”  
  
_Young? I’m barely three years younger than you!_ Harry was getting more irritated as his confusion increased.  
  
“Well, it is amazing,” Bagman said, rubbing at his chin and looking down at Harry in a way Ginny did not like. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name did indeed come out of the Goblet… I mean, I don’t’ think there can be any ducking out at this stage. It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged… Harry will just have to do the best he —”  
  
The door behind them opened again. Harry turned and looked over his shoulder, giving Ginny view of Professor Dumbledore striding in; on his heels were Karkaroff and Maxine, as well as Mr. Crouch, Remus, Sirius, Professor McGonagall, and Moody.  
  
_Where did Sirius come from?_ Harry thought.  
  
_He’s staying at the castle,_ Ginny answered. _Remus told me at the beginning of the year that he’s staying on as an assistant for DADA._  
  
“Madam Maxine,” Fleur said, pushing past Bagman and Harry to reach her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”  
  
_Little boy?_ Both Harry and Ginny echoed indignantly.  
  
Madam Maxine was standing with her spine rod straight. “What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she barked.  
  
“I’d rather like to know that as well, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff said, his eyes glittering darkly. “We were never told that the host school was allowed a second champion! I demand that Madam Maxine and I be allowed to submit our students’ names again, so that all will be fair!”  
  
“We were under ze impression zat your Age Line would keep younger students away,” Madam Maxine said.  
  
“We are being treated most unfairly!” Karkaroff said. “If you are allowed an underage champion, we should have been allowed to bring underage candidates!”  
  
“There has obviously been a mistake,” Sirius interjected. “Harry didn’t submit his own name, I’m sure of it!”  
  
“Oh, zen he must ‘ave asked an older student to do eet for ‘im!” Madam Maxine snapped.  
  
“Harry would do no such thing,” Remus said; Ginny saw he was trying to remain calm, but his eyes were flickering with worry.  
  
“Did you put your name in the Goblet, Harry?” Professor Dumbledore asked.  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
“Did you ask an older student to do it for you?” Karkaroff barked.  
  
“No,” Harry said in exasperation. “I didn’t want this!”  
  
“Ah, but of course ‘e is lying!” snapped Madam Maxine. “’E would not admit to ‘is crime!”  
  
“I’m not!” Harry insisted.  
  
“I believe him,” Remus said.  
  
“So do I,” Sirius added. “Harry does not enjoy being in the spotlight.”  
  
“Bah,” Madam Maxine scoffed. “All young children desire glory.”  
  
“I do not trust the word of an ex-convict, regardless,” Karkaroff said.  
  
Sirius opened his mouth angrily, but Remus caught him and held him back, whispering something quickly in his ear.  
  
“Then take mine.” Professor McGonagall stepped forward. “Potter prefers to remain out of the center of attention; any and all fame he gains through his actions is because others made the news known.”  
  
Karkaroff sneered at her. “You are obviously biased.”  
  
“I trust Harry’s word,” Professor Dumbledore said, stopping McGonagall from responding.  
  
“Meester Crouch,” Madam Maxine said, “Meester Bagman, surely you agree wiz Professor Karkaroff and I zat zis is unacceptable!”  
  
Mr. Crouch took his time in answering. He stood on the outskirts of the group, in half-light that gave him a skeletal look. Ginny felt something else was going through his mind in addition to the problem before him. “I do agree that this is irregular,” he said finally.  
  
“Then he should be kept from competing!” Karkaroff said.  
  
“I’m afraid that cannot happen,” Crouch replied, shaking his head. “By having his name entered, Mr. Potter accepted a binding magical contract, willingly or not, and the Goblet of Fire completed it. He must participate in all of the tasks, without any interference from outside, fully and completely, or face dire consequences.”  
  
“What consequences?” Remus asked.  
  
Crouch gave Remus a sideways look. “I’m afraid the punishment of breaking such a contract would demand the government to banish him from magical communities and strip him of all his rights as a wizard.”  
  
Ginny’s attention snapped. Hermione shook her shoulder, and Ginny blinked to readjust to the environment.  
  
“Everyone is heading back to their dorms,” Hermione said. “Do you want to wait for Harry?”  
  
Ginny nodded. “I’m trying to eavesdrop,” she whispered. “Pretend you’re talking to me about something I don’t have to respond too.” Hermione blinked, a bit startled, but Ginny simply closed her eyes and focused on Harry’s thoughts again. She struggled to form a mental picture of what he was seeing. Slowly, it came back.  
  
“After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises,” Karkaroff was saying angrily, “I little expected something of this nature! I have half a mind to leave now!”  
  
“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” growled the voice of Professor Moody. Harry’s gaze found him standing by the door, leaning on his walking stick. Through Harry’s eye, he seemed almost demonic to Ginny. He stepped forward, his wooden leg clunking rhythmically against the stone floor. “You can’t leave your champion now; he’s got to compete, at risk of forfeiting his rights, like Crouch said. Convenient, eh?”  
  
“Convenient?” Karkaroff repeated, his face attempting to show disdain, but his knuckles were white and balled into fists. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your implication, Moody.”  
  
“Don’t you?” Moody said, his voice barely audible. “Someone put Potter’s name into that cup, knowing he’d have to compete if it came out.”  
  
“Someone ‘oo wished to give ‘Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!” said Madam Maxine, her tone agitated.  
  
“I quite agree,” said Karkaroff, gesturing to Madam Maxine, “I shall be lodging complaints with your Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards!”  
  
“If anyone’s got a reason to complain, it’s Harry!” Sirius snapped.  
  
“Yes,” Moody agreed, “but… funny thing… I don’t hear **him** saying a word.”  
  
All eyes turned towards Harry. Ginny could feel another straw drop onto his back.  
  
“Why should ‘e complain?” burst out Fleur Delacour, and the attention shifted. She looked like a child being denied her favorite toy. “’E ‘as ze chance to compete, ‘asn’t ‘e? We ‘ave all been ‘oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money; zis is a chance many would die for!”  
  
“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” mused Moody; his tone seemed observational, but both Ginny and Harry detected a trace of a growl in it.  
  
Those in the room seemed not to know how to respond to this ominous pronouncement. Finally, Bagman laughing nervously. “Moody, old man, what a thing to say!”  
  
“We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he has not discovered at least six plots to murder him by lunchtime,” Karkaroff said mockingly. “Now he is teaching his students to fear assassination as well? An odd quality in a teacher, but Dumbledore, I am sure, had his reasons.” He didn’t sound sure, however.  
  
“Imagining things, am I?” Mood said, the growl now unhidden. “Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put his name into that goblet —”  
  
“Where is ze evidence of zat?” Madam Maxine snapped.  
  
“In the fact that they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would need an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament; I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category.”  
  
“You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody,” Karkaroff said, his tone almost vicious. “And a very ingenious theory it is — though, of course, I heard that you recently got into your head that one of your birthday gifts was a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, smashing it to pieces before realizing it was merely a carriage clock! So, you’ll excuse us if we don’t take your theories very seriously.”  
  
“There are those who will take advantage of a perfectly innocent occasion, Karkaroff,” Moody growled. “It was once my job to think as Dark Wizards do; I’m sure you remember that.”  
  
Karkaroff turned red, but he fingered his left forearm nervously. Dumbledore put a hand on Moody’s shoulder, a warning look on his face. He turned back to face the others, and his face seemed weary.  
  
“How this situation came to pass, we do not know,” he said. “For the time being, however, we must accept that both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete. This, they shall do.”  
  
“Ah, but Dumbly-dorr —” Madam Maxine began.  
  
“If you have another solution, my dear Madam, that will not end in either boy being banished from the magical world, I would be glad to hear it” Dumbledore cut her off. Madam Maxine did not, apparently, for she closed her mouth with her cheeks burning.  
  
_Wish she did,_ Harry thought sullenly.  
  
_We’ll figure it out,_ Ginny told him. _Just be patient._  
  
Not many else looked happy with the situation either; Professor McGonagall’s face was tense, Sirius seemed angry still, and Remus’ face was worried. Bagman, however, was now smiling broadly.  
  
“Well, shall we crack on then?” Bagman asked. Dumbledore nodded, and waved to the two other Headmasters to follow him from the room. Karkaroff shot Moody one last look of loathing, but followed Dumbledore out. Madam Maxine murmured something in French to Fleur and left the room. The other teachers left as well, Remus giving Harry a reassuring smile.  
  
“Barty?” Bagman said, looking over at Crouch. “You want to do the honors?”  
  
“Ah, yes, instructions,” Crouch said, stepping farther into the light. Against the flames, his face looked tired, even ill. There were bags under his eyes and fresh wrinkles in his forehead. He inhaled deeply, and flicked his gaze, in turn, to each of the champions. His eyes lingered on Harry’s face a moment longer than before.  
  
“The first task is made to test your daring,” Crouch said. “So we will not reveal any specific details regarding it. Courage in the face of ignorance is important; very important.”  
  
“It will happen on the twenty-first of November,” Bagman added. “You’ll be judged by the three Heads of the schools, and by Barty and I.”  
  
“You are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from your teachers,” Crouch continued. “You will face the challenge armed only with your wands, your wits, and your nerve. We will give you information on the second task when the first is completed.”  
  
“And since you’re going to be busy with the tournament, you don’t have to take the end of year exams,” Bagman said.  
  
_No exams?_ Harry thought hopefully. _Maybe this has a bright side!_  
  
“Is that it?” Bagman asked Crouch, who nodded.  
  
“You are now dismissed,” Crouch said. “I suggest you get some rest. Good night.”  
  
Crouch beckoned to Bagman, who followed him out. Harry glanced over at the other three.  
  
Someone nudged Ginny, breaking her concentration once more. _Someone’s coming; I’ll be outside waiting for you,_ she thought quickly, and opened her eyes. Remus and Sirius had seated themselves across the table from her and Hermione.  
  
“You were listening?” Sirius asked quietly.  
  
Ginny nodded. “I don’t like it,” she said.  
  
“I don’t think any of us do,” Remus sighed. “But Dumbledore is right; we can’t keep him from participating.”  
  
Ginny blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I should have seen this coming,” she muttered.  
  
“You couldn’t have,” Remus said. “It caught everyone by surprise.”  
  
“But I did see it coming!” she said in frustration. “I should have understood what it meant!”  
  
Sirius frowned. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I had a dream at the beginning of term,” she said. “I saw the Goblet; I saw Harry’s name come out of it.”  
  
Remus and Sirius exchanged glances. “This doesn’t bode well,” Remus said.  
  
“You saw other things too,” Hermione said. “What else?”  
  
Ginny ran a hand through her hair, and caught sight of the door out of the hall opening again, and the group of champions exiting. She waved to Harry, and he slipped past Krum and Cedric to hurry towards them.  
  
“What’s going on?” he asked, dropping onto the bench beside her. Ginny laced her fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze.  
  
“Remember that dream I had?”  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“The really weird one, with all the pictures.”  
  
“Oh, yeah. What about it?”  
  
“She says she saw your name in the Goblet of Fire,” Sirius said.  
  
“I didn’t put it in,” Harry insisted.  
  
“We know,” Remus said quickly, raising a hand. “The question is: Who did?”  
  
“What else did you see, Ginny?”  
  
Ginny bit the inside of her lip, trying to remember her dream. “It started with small clips of things; a large house on a hill, a couple of police officers reviewing a case, Tom in class years ago, and some woman pacing down a classroom. Then I was underwater, drowning, and Harry came in, but he wasn’t answering any of my questions. He had gills, and webbed hands. He took me to the surface, then I was in the Great Hall, and the Goblet was there. The parchment with his name was just beginning to burn, and I heard something.” Ginny shut her eyes, trying to remember. “I can’t remember what it was! I followed it, but all I saw was someone’s cloak going around a corner. I can’t remember what that sound was.”  
  
Sirius and Remus exchanged looks again. “That’s a lot of information,” Remus said.  
  
“The house she saw, and the police officers,” Harry began, “they reminded me of a dream I had during the summer. I saw an old man going into that house, and he went upstairs, where three men were talking. One of them wasn’t… He wasn’t human. I couldn’t see the faces of the other two. This huge snake came in, and the thing spoke to it, then he called the old man in. They said something to him, then they killed him.”  
  
“That old man was in one of the photos the police officers were looking at,” Ginny said.  
  
Remus frowned. “This is very odd,” he said.  
  
“Dumbledore will want to know,” said Sirius.  
  
“Probably,” Ginny said. “I want to know how he’s going to keep Harry alive during the tasks.”  
  
“I don’t think there’s much he can do,” Harry said. “Crouch said that no one can help me.”  
  
“No teachers can help you,” Ginny corrected. “But, they can help me.”  
  
Remus quirked an eyebrow. “Are you interested in taking any extra-credit this year, Miss Weasley?”  
  
“That I am,” she said. “I’ll help you, Harry, every step of the way.”  
  
“I will too,” Hermione piped up. “You couldn’t keep me away.”  
  
“And I am not a teacher,” Sirius said. “Technically.”  
  
Harry smiled gratefully. “Thanks,” he said softly. “That means a lot.”  
  
“We’ll do our best,” Remus said. “Indirectly in my case, unfortunately.”  
  
“First, you need to get to bed,” Sirius said, checking his watch. “You’ve got DADA first thing tomorrow, and I think Remus is suddenly going to be teaching you more advanced defensive spells.”  
  
“Yes, I think that is an excellent idea,” Remus said. “Shield charms tomorrow.”  
  
Harry nodded; “That might be a good idea.”  
  
“Go on,” Sirius said, flapping his hands at them. “Bed; in different locations.”  
  
Harry flushed, Ginny averted her eyes. Hermione smirked. “I’ll make sure they follow directions,” she said. Sirius winked at them.  
  
“See you tomorrow,” Remus said.  
  
Hermione led them from the Great Hall up the marble stairs to the seventh floor. She gave the password to the Fat Lady, and the painting swung forward.  
  


**HGHGHGHGHGHG HGHGHG**

  
  
Harry stepped through the portrait hole and was met by a wall of sound. Every Gryffindor, it seemed, had been waiting for them; for him. Students were cheering, people were shouting congratulations.  
  
“How’d you do it?” Fred and George roared, their faces filled with delight.  
  
Harry faltered. _Crap,_ he thought. Ginny squeezed his hand again.  
  
“Coming through!” she shouted, charging forward determinedly. “Harry’s very tired; let us through!”  
  
The crowd parted, a bit startled. Ginny pulled him forward. “Pardon us, Harry wants to go to bed. You can ask him about it in the morning!”  
  
Fred and George caught up with them. “Come on, Harry, you can tell us!” said George.  
  
“Ask him tomorrow,” Ginny said.  
  
“We never saw you with a beard!” Fred ignored her, which was his first mistake. The crowd pressed closer.  
  
Ginny drew her wand. “Back up!” she called. “Back up or I’m going to start hexing people!”  
  
The wall of bodies stumbled backwards. Fred and George did not.  
  
“Come on!” they said together.  
  
“I warned you,” Ginny said.  
  
“You wouldn’t hurt your favorite brothers,” Fred said dismissively; that was his second mistake.  
  
Ginny leveled her wand. “ _Nos Vespertiliones_ ,” she cried.  
  
Large, brown things erupted from their noses. Ginny pulled Harry forward as the bogeys started attacking their faces.  
  
“Hermione, would you fix them in a minute?” she called over her shoulder as Fred and George started yelling expletives. The rest of the students were all laughing, but none of them got in her way.  
  
Ginny stopped outside the door to the boys’ stairs. She pressed a kiss to his cheek; Harry closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of her flowery shampoo. Tension fled from his shoulders; he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.  
  
_Thank you,_ he thought.  
  
Ginny smiled and brushed hair out of his eyes. “You’re welcome,” she murmured.  
  
“Kiss!” someone shouted. Harry’s cheeks heated. Ginny shot whoever it was a glare, but she kissed his cheek again.  
  
“Goodnight,” she said.  
  
“Night,” he replied. He let go of her and climbed up the stairs. He heard Ginny yell something else at the crowd, probably telling them off for invading his business, and then Fred and George stopped cursing. Hermione must have used the counter-charm.  
  
He pushed open the door to his dorm. The room was empty, but the curtains around Ron’s bed had been drawn closed. Harry hesitated, then gripped the edge of the curtain.  
  
“Ron?” he said. “Are you there?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Harry pulled back the curtain. Ron was lying on his back, staring up at the canopy roof with an irritated look on his face. He glanced at Harry, then returned to glaring at the roof of his canopy.  
  
“What can I do for you, Oh Great Boy Who Lived?” he spat.  
  
Harry was taken aback. “What?”  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said. “I need you to believe me.”  
  
Ron said nothing.  
  
“Please, Ron.”  
  
Ron raised his hand and folded down his fingers, leaving only the middle one standing. Harry fell back, startled.  
  
“Ron?”  
  
“I don’t exist to be your servant,” Ron snapped. “I’d go get one of your many followers to do whatever it is you want if I were you.”  
  
“I don’t want anything,” Harry spluttered. “I — I just need you to believe me.”  
  
“Well, I don’t. You could have at least told me you were entering.”  
  
“I wasn’t!”  
  
“Sure you weren’t,” Ron scoffed. Harry clenched his jaw.  
  
“Fine,” he said, “stay here and sulk.” He pulled the curtain shut with a jerk and turned to his bed. He dropped onto it and glared at his own canopy.  
  
_Harry? What’s the matter now?  
  
Ron thinks I did this myself,_ Harry thought.  
  
Ginny conjured a few different methods of torturing Ron, along with several curse words. _That idiot!_  
  
Harry didn’t reply. He felt more hurt than angry at his friend.  
  
_I’ll make him see sense,_ Ginny continued.  
  
_No, don’t. It’s not worth it.  
  
But he’s being a git!_  
  
Harry sighed. _Yeah, well, he’ll have to get over it on his own. We’ve got more worries._  
  
Harry felt Ginny’s anger subsiding. _First Karkaroff and Maxine, then Fred and George, the rest of the school. Does no one but Hermione, Sirius, Remus and me believe you?  
  
Diggory doesn’t,_ Harry thought. _He didn’t say so, but I could tell._  
  
Ginny didn’t reply immediately. Harry scowled. _Don’t tell me you fancy him.  
  
What? Are you joking?_  
  
Harry huffed. _So I’m not only competing in the tournament against him, but now I’m fighting him for your attention? Are you joking with me?  
  
Harry, don’t be an idiot,_ Ginny thought. _I don’t fancy anyone.  
  
You like Cedric!  
  
Harry, shut up! That doesn’t matter!  
  
You admit it!_ Harry thought. He felt Ginny’s ears beginning to burn and her anger returning.  
  
_Cedric Diggory is good-looking, I admit,_ she said, _but I am not interested in him!_  
  
Harry huffed. _Great._  
  
Ginny mentally kicked him. _You’re getting off-topic.  
  
You’re always the right topic._  
  
He felt her smile, and his stress lessened a bit.  
  
_Thank you, Harry, but you do need to focus on this.  
  
What are we focusing on?  
  
The tournament. We have to find out what the first task is.  
  
I thought I wasn’t supposed to know.  
  
They said that they couldn’t tell you, they didn’t say anything about someone else telling you._  
  
Harry grinned. _You’re awesome.  
  
Yes, well, first we have to find someone who knows. Keep a look out for people involved in the tournament who will talk. None of the teachers can, so that rules out Remus. Sirius might be able to help, but I don’t think they’ll let him in on it._  
  
Harry yawned. _That’s a good idea.  
  
You’re falling asleep.  
  
No, I’m listening.  
  
I am in your head, Harry, I know when you’re lying. Go to sleep already.  
  
You’re still talking._  
  
He could tell she was rolling her eyes, mental link or not. _Goodnight, silly.  
  
Night, darling._ He pulled his shoes off and shoved them under his bed before taking off his robes and swapping them for pajamas. Ginny closed the mental flow from her side, probably because she was going to take a shower, as he collapsed onto his bed again. His other dorm mates started coming up, so he pulled the curtains closed.  



	16. Dragons?!?!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Sixteen: The Goblet of Fire, Part Three  
Dragons?!?!?  
  
Ginny**

  
  
They had two weeks to train Harry for the first task. Ginny and Sirius began reconnaissance to find what he would be facing, while Remus poured more and more counter curses into DADA lessons and Hermione trained Harry after classes. Remus had stressed to the class that the Shield Charm was incredibly important, so Harry worked his hardest on that particular spell. Every afternoon, Ginny and Hermione took him to an empty classroom and they threw hexes at him while he tried to block. He could effectively block a few minor spells, but every one of Ginny's Bat Bogey Hexes got past his shield, and most of Hermione's Jelly Leg jinxes as well.  
  
"This is hopeless!" Harry cried, wobbling towards a chair for the fifth time. It was the Wednesday before the task, and they were practicing in the Charms room before dinner.  
  
"You're getting better," Ginny said, as Hermione applied the counter-spell. Harry stood shakily.  
  
"Not quickly enough," Harry said. "The task is Monday! And we still don't know what it is!"  
  
Hermione checked her watch. "How about we go to dinner and try again after?"  
  
On cue, Harry's stomach grumbled. "Fine," he mumbled. Ginny linked her arm through his and kissed his cheek.  
  
"We'll work it out," she reminded him. Harry nodded, a bit less irritated with himself.  
  
At dinner, Harry loaded his plate until food spilled off the edge. "Are you channeling Ron?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised. Harry shoved a forkful of pot roast into his mouth and shook his head.  
  
"Just hungry," he said, after swallowing.  
  
"At least he's not talking with his mouth full," Ginny said dryly.  
  
Hagrid passed them, and dropped a hand onto Harry's shoulder.  
  
"'Ello, you lot," he said cheerily. "How are you?"  
  
"Hungry," Harry said, taking another mouthful.  
  
"Good, good," Hagrid rumbled. "Listen, Harry," he added in a lower voice, "can you stop by this evenin' 'round midnight? I've got somethin' to show yeh."  
  
Harry frowned. "Why?"  
  
"Just trust me," Hagrid said. "I've gotta go; see yeh, Harry."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow to Ginny as Hagrid walked away. _What do you think? Worth staying out past curfew?_  
  
Ginny considered this. _Suppose. It's up to you.  
  
You're going with me, though.  
  
What makes you say that?_ She asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Harry shrugged. _I know you._  
  
Hermione cleared her throat. "This is pleasant for you, I'm sure, but I'd like to say that it's probably a good idea for Harry to go."  
  
"Yes, but —" Harry began, then frowned. "Did you just say I should go?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "He must have valuable information for him to ask you to come out past curfew. I think it's worth it."  
  
Ginny and Harry exchanged glances. _I think we've had a bad influence on her,_ Harry thought.  
  
_I think it's good that she's coming out some,_ Ginny said.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her dinner. Harry began eating again, continuing to think as he did.  
  
_At any rate, do you think it's about the task?_  
  
Ginny nodded, taking a bit of roast potato off Harry's plate. He shot her a scowl. _Get your own._  
  
_These are mine too,_ she thought, taking another. _We share a mind, therefore we share everything else.  
  
I think that's marriage, darling._  
  
Ginny shrugged. _Same thing._ Harry smirked and his cheeks turned pink, but allowed her to continue stealing from his plate.  
  
"Hey," Sirius dropped onto a seat by Harry. "I need you and Ginny outside the tapestry of Barnibus the Barmy seventh floor tonight."  
  
"Can't," Harry said. "My night's booked."  
  
"You can fool around with Ginny some other night," Sirius said dismissively — Ginny's ears burned —, "this is important."  
  
"I'm not fooling around with Ginny," Harry said, redder still. "Hagrid said he needed to show me something."  
  
"What? Fine, come after that. I've found something and I need to show you."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Hagrid wants me to come around midnight, and I don't know how long it will take. If it's too late when he's done, I'm just going to bed."  
  
"Fine, I'll wait until 2 for you." Sirius stood and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Have a good evening."  
  
Harry and Ginny met eyes.  
  
"Does everyone want your attention tonight?" Ginny asked.  
  
"Hey, Harry!"  
  
Harry mentally groaned. _Why did I take a seat opposite you?  
  
What difference would that have made?_ Ginny asked him, watching Parvati Patil approach.  
  
_I could have just started snogging you; that would have deterred her._  
  
Ginny was pink when Parvati slid onto the bench.  
  
"How are you coming on the task?" Parvati asked.  
  
"Fine," Harry said, not meeting her eyes. "Great."  
  
"Good," Parvati said, smiling prettily and fluttering her eyelashes. Ginny raised an eyebrow, pondering over Parvati's motive. "You know, Saturday's a Hogsmeade trip. What if you took a break from all your hard-work and came out with me?"  
  
Harry blinked. Ginny gritted her teeth and tried not to hex her room-mate. Who did she think she was?  
  
_Uh, Ginny?_ Harry thought. _Help?_  
  
Ginny sipped at her water, trying to remain calm. _If I open my mouth, all that will come out is a bunch of curses, magical and otherwise.  
  
Is she trying to ask me out?  
  
Yes,_ Ginny thought angrily. Harry glanced desperately between her and Hermione.  
  
"I'm afraid Harry's got a lot of work left still," Hermione said. "I can't let him go anywhere."  
  
Parvati pouted. "Oh, come on, Harry, you don't have to listen to her!"  
  
"She's right," Harry said. "And, uh, I've got, uh, spells to, er, work on."  
  
Parvati sighed. "Well, I'll be cheering for you on Monday," she said, patting Harry's shoulder. Ginny bit down on the tines of her fork hard. "Good luck!" Parvati gave his shoulder a squeeze, and left.  
  
Ginny withdrew her fork, glaring after Parvati's back.  
  
"Uh, Ginny?" Harry said. "Your fork is bent."  
  
She glanced down; the metal tines were bent from where she'd bit down on them. _At least I wasn't attacking her,_ she grumbled silently. _The nerve!_  
  
Harry went back to eating. _That was kind of awkward.  
  
Awkward! My room-mate just blatantly flirted with my boyfriend right in front of me!  
  
Well, no matter where she did it, it would have been in front of you,_ Harry pointed out.  
  
_Not helping!_ Ginny stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork and began slashing at it with her knife. _Who does she think she is? How dare she?!_ Harry reached out and gripped her hand, pulling the plate away.  
  
_Darling, you're going to break your plate,_ he thought. Ginny huffed. Harry took her fork and knife and cut her chicken into strips, then pushed her plate back, keeping her knife.  
  
"That was quite rude," Hermione said. "I wonder what she's up to."  
  
Ginny blew a strand of hair out of her face with a sharp exhale. "Probably she wants to have a piece of one of the champions, and since Harry's already famous, she's set her sights on him."  
  
Harry turned pink. _Well, there's another bad side to being the Boy Who Lived, he thought.  
  
F —  
  
If you're about to say what I think you're going to say, no. Bit too young for that._  
  
Ginny turned pink. _Not what I meant!_  
  
Harry shrugged. "Definitely not sneaking out of the castle without you now."  
  
Ginny shook her head and impaled a piece of chicken on her bent fork. "At any rate, you need to hurry. I want to keep working on your Shield Charm before we go see Hagrid."  
  
Harry began to eat with renewed gusto. Twenty minutes later, they left the Great Hall and returned to the Charms room. The minutes ticked by slowly; eventually Harry was able to block the majority of the spells she and Hermione threw at him, even though every now and then, one got through. They went back to the common room at curfew, and huddled in a corner with books, homework for Hermione and Ginny and a book on defensive spells for Harry, until the clock struck midnight.  
  
"Good luck!" whispered Hermione as Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and threw it around Ginny and him. Harry had grown taller since the last time they'd worn it, so to fit both him and Ginny without any worry of their feet being seen, she had to stand closer to him. Harry put his arm around her, tucking her into his side, and held the Marauder's Map in front of him.  
  
Ginny tapped it with her wand. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she whispered, taking it from him. Harry opened the portrait hole. _No one's near us,_ she thought.  
  
_We're going to the shortcut at the North end,_ Harry thought.  
  
_The one by the tapestry about the Witch Trials?  
  
That one._  
  
Ginny scanned the map, searching for the safest route. _Turn left here,_ she thought. Harry shone his wand down the corridor. _Step quietly as we pass the paintings, they're a restless lot._  
  
They only had one close call between the tower and the shortcut; one of the suits of armor had sneezed violently and a Ravenclaw prefect came over to inspect. The passage led from the seventh floor down to the second, and from there they took another short-cut to the Great Hall. The doors creaked quietly as they pulled one open and slipped through.  
  
_Ready?_ Harry asked mentally. Ginny nodded, and they broke into a run. They crossed the grounds to Hagrid's cabin, and Harry raised a hand to knock.  
  
Hagrid opened the door after the first knock.  
  
"Eh? You there, Harry?" he asked in a stage whisper.  
  
"Yes," Harry said. "Where are we going?"  
  
"Follow me," Hagrid muttered. They jumped out of the way so Hagrid could move past them, towards the Beauxbatons' carriage.  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged. A minute later, Madam Maxime came out of the carriage, and Hagrid held out his arm to her.  
  
_Seriously?_ Harry thought, He wanted to show us Maxime?  
  
_Be patient,_ Ginny replied. Harry huffed, but they followed Hagrid towards the edge of the forest. Harry checked his watch, then Hagrid turned into the trees.  
  
_Worth it?_ Ginny met Harry's eyes. He nodded, and they kept following.  
  
Within twenty minutes, they saw lights, heard shouting, and something roaring. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him. Ginny peered around Hagrid, trying to see what was ahead of them. Anther ten minutes gave them a clear view.  
  
Dragons.  
  
Harry inhaled sharply. _What?! Dragons?! I have to fight a freaking dragon?!_  
  
Ginny stared in awe. The closest dragon was a large, sleek blue scaled beast; its hackles were raised and it was snarling at any trying to come close. About ten yards past it, an even larger crimson dragon blew a mushroom cloud of flames into the air. She recognized the third dragon; a Welsh Green. She'd seen one when she was nine, when she and her family had visited an aunt in Wales. The last dragon, also the farthest away, was the largest. Its scales were a gleaming bronze, its spine lined with spikes and its thrashing tail embedded with more. The creature's face was framed by horns, and its maw was opened wide, roaring into the sky. Its fangs were at least a foot long.  
  
_You're turning into Hagrid,_ Harry commented, though he sounded more overwhelmed than anything else. _Holy —_  
  
"Hagrid!" a voice interrupted Harry's thought. Ginny gasped as one of the dragon handlers came forward and she recognized hair the same color of the flames.  
  
"Charlie!" she whispered gleefully.  
  
"Hullo, Charlie," Hagrid said cheerfully. "What have yeh got here?"  
  
Charlie gave Madam Maxime a suspicious look, but she wasn't paying attention to him. "Won't she tell her champion?"  
  
Hagrid waved a hand dismissively. "She's fine. So, what have yeh got?"  
  
Charlie turned back to the dragons. "A Chinese Fireball over there, the red one, that blue dragon is a Swedish Short-snout, and that horned one is a Hungarian Horntail. Speaking of her, you'd better keep back. Their range is usually thirty-five feet, but I've seen her do fifty when she's angry."  
  
Hagrid took a step back, and Madam Maxime backed away hurriedly.  
  
Charlie nodded. "Anyway, that fourth one is a Welsh Green. We brought her in last minute when we heard there was a fourth champion. Once again, speaking of, how is Harry?"  
  
"He's doing good," Hagrid said. "Your sister's been a great load of help."  
  
"That's good," Charlie commented. "I hope he gets the Green; it would be easiest for him."  
  
_With my luck, I'll probably get the Horntail,_ Harry thought wryly. Ginny squeezed his hand.  
  
"What are they supposed to do with 'em?" Hagrid asked.  
  
"To be honest, I'm not sure," Charlie said. "But they requested nesting mothers so I'm assuming something to do with the eggs. Or they just wanted the nastiest dragons they could get their hands on."  
  
Harry groaned, then checked his watch suddenly. _I reckon we've seen all of what Hagrid wanted us to see. We'd better get back before Sirius leaves._  
  
Ginny nodded, tearing her eyes away from the dragons. Harry pulled her away, heading back the way they had come. Just past the edge of the trees, Ginny spotted a dark shape coming towards them. She pulled Harry out of the way, as Professor Karkaroff strode past them.  
  
_Probably spying too,_ Harry thought.  
  
_Probably,_ Ginny replied. _Come on._  
  
They moved as quickly as they dared across the grounds and into the castle. Harry took the map and navigated them from the Entrance Hall back up to the Seventh floor, then Ginny directed him towards the tapestry of Barnibus the Barmy.  
  
_Are you sure Sirius said here?_ Harry thought as they turned a corner. _There's nothing here except that tapestry._  
  
_Maybe this is just a rendezvous,_ Ginny thought back.  
  
_Maybe, or — wait, where'd that door come from?_  
  
The two of them stopped before a slim, oak door opposite the tapestry and stared at it in surprise.  
  
_I'm positive that wasn't there before,_ Ginny thought.  
  
_So am I,_ Harry replied. _Where'd it come from?  
  
I don't know. Should we go in?  
  
Might as well._  
  
Harry turned the knob from behind the cloak, and pushed the door open. He put a hand on Ginny's shoulder, guiding her in front of him. Had anyone else done that, she probably would have hexed them, but with Harry, she let it go. Ginny ducked out from under the cloak as Harry shut the door, and cracked her neck.  
  
"What's this place?" she asked, looking behind her. Harry appeared, bundling up the cloak, and he stepped forward. The room was large and long; lined with bookshelves and tables. The lights were low except for the far side of the room, where a hunched figure sat over a book next to two more, both with better posture. There was a lamp sitting on a table beside them, so their faces were black against it.  
  
"Sirius?" Harry called.  
  
The hunched man straightened. "Over here, Harry."  
  
Ginny pushed her hand into Harry's and pulled him forward. They crossed the room quickly, moving around the tables and books. As they approached, the faces came into better view, and Ginny recognized them as Sirius, Remus, and Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"Have a seat," Sirius said.  
  
Harry did not sit. "What's going on?" he asked. He glanced between Remus and Sirius, then Dumbledore. Ginny could feel worry rising in him.  
  
"You're all right, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said calmly.  
  
"Why did this have to happen at night?" Ginny asked, suddenly suspicious.  
  
"We didn't want anyone overhearing," Remus said.  
  
Harry and Ginny exchanged glances. She raised an eyebrow. He frowned, but shrugged. Harry pulled out a chair, looking back up at her. Ginny raised the other eyebrow; he curled one corner of his lip up. She sat. Harry took the chair next to her, and they turned back to the adults.  
  
Sirius blinked. "You have identical expressions right now. It's kind of creepy."  
  
"We practice it," Ginny quipped. "What's so important that the Headmaster would ask us to break curfew?"  
  
"Your bond," Dumbledore said. "I have finally discovered more about it."  
  


**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG HG**

  
  
Floorboards creaked beneath his feet. The man stepped forward gingerly, taking each step as though stepping around sleeping children. He rested his palm on a crystal doorknob and turned it carefully.  
  
"Is that you?" called a sharp voice; it made the man's eye twitch with an urge to wince. The voice sent prickles down his back; it made him want to turn and flee. But he moved into the room, and towards a large, wing-backed armchair before a flickering flame.  
  
"I have finished your draught, my lord," the man whispered.  
  
"Good," the voice sighed. "I am not hungry now; you will have to feed me later."  
  
"Yes, my lord."  
  
"What news do you have?"  
  
"Our spy within Hogwarts has succeeded; Potter is participating in the tournament."  
  
"Good," his master said again, sounding pleased. "And what of Dumbledore? Does he suspect anything about Potter's entry?"  
  
The man drew back his lips in a sneer. "I doubt he suspects our spy. He will be wary, but it is more likely that he is ready to blame Karkaroff than the spy."  
  
"Excellent. And have you begun the preparation for the potion?"  
  
"Yes, my lord. I have collected the first of the ingredients."  
  
"Just the first?"  
  
"My lord, the instructions are difficult to decipher, let alone translate. We are lucky that I am able to read it at all."  
  
"You are lucky," the voice corrected. "If you had been unable to translate it, I would have had to find a new helper, and Nagini would be fed for weeks."  
  
The man held back a twinge of both fear and anger. His master demanded much from him, almost too much. "My lord, I apologize for the slow development."  
  
"As you should," his master hissed. "Now, set down the draught and return to your translating."  
  
The man set the flask of milky potion on the table by the armchair, averting his eyes from his master's form. It was not a pretty sight. He backed away to the door, then left the room.  
  
"Oh, one moment," the voice called back. The man stopped, and returned to the room.  
  
"Yes, my lord?"  
  
"Do not talk back to me," his master ordered.  
  
"Yes, my lord." The man bowed, even though his master could not see him, before once again leaving the room.  
  


**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGH GHG**

  
  
"What is it, then?" Ginny asked eagerly.  
  
Sirius pushed forward the book he'd been looking at. "Albus found this in a very old library, complied by one of Hogwarts' original Headmasters. It was originally in Greek, but Albus put a spell on it to translate it into English."  
  
Ginny shifted the book so both she and Harry could read it at the same time.  
  
"I believe it to be the journal of Thaon Kyrillos," Dumbledore said. "The pages are laden with magic, and resist my attempts to translate it, so there is only a small amount translated."  
  
Ginny nodded, having no idea who Thaon Kyrillos was, and turned her eyes onto the page.  
  
_**"The seventh day of the eighth month,** in the year of our lord 1124. This morning I returned from my homeland to Hogwarts to prepare for the students arrival in three weeks, though I am unfocused on my work. Whilst on my travels, I spent time with my great-niece, Eirene, who is fourteen years of age. I was asked to give her lessons over the summer, as her grasp of magic does not always allow her to learn as quickly as her fellow students in Greece. I came to know her well, and discovered something of great interest.  
  
"When children are young, I know, they crave friends. And when there are no friends to be made, they turn to their imagination to create non-corporeal friends. I myself had imaginary friends as a child, but I began to lose touch with them after my descent into puberty. Eirene has admitted to having such imaginary friends, but that one of them has persisted to follow her and remain constant in her mind even now. She tells me that this friend is a boy her age, a squire to an Anglo-Saxon knight, one who is devoted to his magical studies and is skillful with a blade. I was only vaguely curious as to why she kept pretending that this friend existed, until she mentioned that she never came up with a name for him.  
  
"The idea of an unnamed imaginary friend caused me to return early to Hogwarts, for I was sure I had heard of such an account before. I returned to Eirene's parents, and told them that I suspected that Eirene's imaginary friend might not be quite so imaginary, and might in fact be real, flesh and blood.  
  
"Naturally, they do not believe me. I shall endeavor to find Eirene's squire, to prove to them that Eirene is not merely imaginative — although she does have a powerful imagination, but that is not my point. I believe Eirene is part of an ancient magic, one not yet considered by warlocks of our times. I believe she is only half of what she could become, once this squire is found.  
  
"There is a myth that man was once of two minds, a being with four arms, four legs, and two heads. One male, once female. The myth states that the pagan god of my homeland, Zeus, feared humans in this state, and so separated them into two halves: One head, two arms, two legs. This myth says that humans spent the rest of their lives, trying to find their other half, hence such a phrase as 'my better half.' But what if this myth is true, at least partially? What if we were once connected to another human, perhaps not in body, but in mind? What if, somehow, humans were disconnected with their partner, leaving them to look forevermore for the ideal of a 'soulmate?'  
  
"And what if, what if, some humans retained that connection? What if my niece, in her imaginative and willful ways, is connected to another human through a mental link of some kind?"_  
  
Ginny reached the last of English; the rest was slanted, strange letters she couldn't decipher. She looked up at Harry; he was still reading. In a minute, he had finished and looked up to meet her eyes.  
  
_What do you think?_ He thought.  
  
_I think there's more._  
  
Ginny pushed the book back to Sirius. "What about this needed privacy?"  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "There is a passage at the end that was written in English. This was what made me think it was written on the subject of soul bonds such as yours." He turned through the pages, and stopped at the very end. Harry pulled the book back, and they turned their eyes back to it.  
  
_**"The thirteenth day of the second month,** in the year of our lord 1134. I am dying. My hands can no longer hold a quill, so I am dictating this. Eirene has grown past the depression of her childhood, and as I predicted, she has married the squire of her thoughts. Thomas will be an excellent husband. He adores and reveres her even more now than when he first met her, and he swore to me he loved her even then. I have found all I can on the subject of soul bonds, and leave Thomas and Eirene to discover the rest. This journal is my proof, that sometimes imaginary friends are not merely imagination, but power untold.  
  
"I leave two last notes. Long ago, my daughter told me she heard voices. I did not know what she meant then, but now I do. I believe she, like Eirene, was one half of a whole. My greatest regret is that I did not believe her then, and therefore did not look for the source of her voices. I can only imagine what her other half went through, but I surmise he did not live much longer past her death. My daughter committed suicide because she both thought she was insane and because she had remained from her other half for so long. I do not know who that was, where he was, or even what he looked like. I will never know.  
  
"I can only say this: Children like Eirene and my daughter should never be kept from their other half. Eirene almost paid the price for her half's absence, and that was before she even truly met him. This bond is not merely a connection, but a life source. Only a few weeks ago, Thomas left to be made a knight, and Eirene fell more ill than ever before. He did as well, and almost failed his final mission as a squire. He was gone only four days, but I fear what would have happened had he remained away longer.  
  
"I do not know how long it takes for a pair to reach the point where days alone make them ill; perhaps it is marriage, perhaps it is adolescence. Perhaps it varies, perhaps some pairs cannot spend hours away from each other, perhaps some can survive weeks. All I can say for sure is that to anyone looking to my journal for answers must be careful to never let one half leave the other. When they are alone, be always watching them. Do not let them fall into the depression that caused Eirene to brew the Draught of Living Death before she met Thomas, or that caused my daughter to end her own life.  
  
"I can feel life leaving me even as I speak. Five weeks previous, Hogwarts was visited by a travelling circus. They were mostly Muggles, very lost ones to end up here, but in their group was a fortune-teller that I ended up hiring to teach Divination here. The fortune-teller called herself Rhiamon, but I do not believe that to be her true name. I hired her only because she told me three things: The first was that I would soon be in the company of my daughter, though she did not know that my child is dead, nor that I had little time left myself. The second was that a child I consider to be a daughter will be having a child of her own soon. Rhiamon looked to Eirene and added onto this, saying "That one has got the glow, master, sir, she has got the glow of a mother-to-be." Eirene had wedded Thomas only weeks before, and they had just returned from their honeymoon, so I have no doubt that this is true. The third, I do not know how to comprehend, but I shall record it anyway. I must hurry, for my breath is fading.  
  
“She said to me "Your work is vital." I asked her why, and what work she was speaking of, and she replied with "You study the bond of souls, the kind not heard of." She said, "Your work is vital, for a long time from now, two children will dream of each other long before they meet. Those two children have a great destiny, I can see it even now." She told me that the two children would be followed by fate herself, though I am not sure how a non-corporeal ideal can follow a pair of children. "I can see them," she said. "I can see that he is strong but invaded, that she is broken and determined, but that they both will save the world." I cannot know what she means, and I will not be able to see it. I am almost through, and I must sleep soon.  
  
"The last thing she said to me was this: "Two children will dream so hard, their dreams will bleed from their minds and change the world even before their birth."  
  
"I think Rhiamon has a future not even she can see. I entrust this journal to Eirene, and ask her to complete it. I also ask that she might work with Rhiamon, for I believe she has great potential. I have done all I can on this earth… farewell."_  
  
Ginny looked up; Harry was re-reading the second to last paragraph. "'Bleed through before their birth'?" she repeated.  
  
"It does seem ominous," Dumbledore agreed.  
  
"Forget ominous," Harry said, "it's downright frightening. Do you think that fortune-teller was seeing us?"  
  
"There are certain elements that remind us of you," Remus said.  
  
"Like what?" Harry looked back down. "'Strong but invaded…' What does that mean?"  
  
"I don't know," Remus said. "I can't put my finger on it, but I'm almost positive she was speaking of you."  
  
"I don't like that invaded bit," Ginny said, her eyes locked on Dumbledore. He was looking back at her calmly, but there was something in the back of his eyes. "Have you any idea what it could mean, Professor?"  
  
"I cannot be sure," Dumbledore replied. "I will have to translate more, as quickly as I can, but I fear it will take time."  
  
Ginny looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye. _I'm not sure he's telling us everything._  
  
Harry frowned. _Why would he keep something from us?  
  
I don't know, but I intend to find out._ Ginny closed the book and pushed it back towards Dumbledore, who set it aside.  
  
"What we have to worry about, is the 'bleeding through' part," Sirius said.  
  
"I shall research this Rhiamon, but if Thaon was correct in assuming that it was not her true name, we might hit another roadblock," Dumbledore added. "In any case, I shall ask around if anyone might be able to interpret her words."  
  
Harry nodded. "Anything else you need to tell us?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "That was all."  
  
"Then, I've got information about the task." Harry paused, looking at Dumbledore. "Uh, am I allowed to have information about the task?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I am suddenly very tired," Dumbledore said, standing up. "I am afraid I must retire to my quarters. Good night."  
  
Dumbledore took the book and strode from the room. Harry raised his eyebrows, but smiled. "Okay, so, the news."  
  
"They've got to fight dragons," Ginny said.  
  
Sirius's jaw dropped. Remus looked stunned. "They've got what?"  
  
"Dragons," Harry said.  
  
"A Chinese Fireball, a Swedish Short-Snout, a Hungarian Horntail, and a Welsh Green," Ginny ticked them off on her fingers. "One each."  
  
"My word," Remus whispered. "Dragons? I haven't been teaching anything that could help you with a dragon!"  
  
"The Shield Charm might help," Sirius said. "Block the fire before it could turn Harry into a charred roast."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Not helping, Sirius," Remus snapped. "Dragons… Okay, I'll change the lesson for tomorrow to be something to help… Dragons!"  
  
"I'm sure there's something somewhere that you can help with indirectly," Sirius said, patting Remus's shoulder. Remus did not look too reassured.  
  
"But how can I fight a dragon?" Harry said. "What would I have to do, kill it?"  
  
"No, you won't have to kill it," Ginny said quickly. "Dragons are a protected species. Remember, Charlie said that the dragons are all nesting mothers, so it must have to do with the eggs."  
  
"Do I smash the eggs?" Harry asked.  
  
"Still a protected species," Ginny said.  
  
"We can figure that out later," Remus said. "Right now, you need sleep."  
  
"I'm not tired," Harry said. "This is too big for me to sleep."  
  
"Shame," Remus commented dryly, "because you're going to bed anyway, before I give you detention for being out past curfew."  
  
"Hey!" Harry protested.  
  
"You'd better get out of here," Sirius warned. "He's serious about that. He once gave James and I a week of detention because he caught us setting up a prank that he had planned!"  
  
Ginny pushed back her chair and grabbed the cloak. "We'll go," she said. "Come on."  
  
Harry huffed, but stood up anyway. He stretched, then took out the map. "See you in the morning," he said as Ginny spread the cloak over them.  
  
_Are we actually going to bed?_ Harry thought. Ginny nodded and took the map. She unfolded it and checked the seventh floor. _Seriously?_ Harry asked. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
_You have to fight dragons in four days and you want to stay up late?  
  
Fair point. But it is four days.  
  
I'm putting you to bed,_ Ginny thought, shaking her head at him. Harry opened the door and they ducked outside. Halfway up the corridor, the door opened again and Sirius and Remus came out. Ginny glanced over her shoulder, then stopped in her tracks. Harry froze before he pulled the cloak off her and backed up.  
  
_What?  
  
The door,_ she thought. _It's gone._  
  
Harry looked over, and his eyebrows shot up. _You're right!_ The door they had exited from had vanished the instant Sirius closed it behind him. _Do you want check it out?  
  
Not now,_ Ginny thought. _We'll ask them about it later._ She grabbed his hand and started forward again.  
  
_What did you think about that journal?_ Harry thought a moment later.  
  
Ginny gathered her thoughts on the subject before answering. _I think it's definitely worth working on.  
  
But what about the part about getting sick if we spend too much time apart?_  
  
Ginny squeezed his hand. _Then we won't spend too long apart.  
  
At least we know we can spend at least eight hours apart,_ Harry thought. _That's usually how long we spend sleeping.  
  
That's true,_ Ginny thought absently. _And I was gone over a week last summer; you didn't get sick then did you?  
  
Well, I was already sick,_ Harry thought. _That's why I didn't go with you, remember?  
  
Oh, yeah. But did you get any worse?  
  
No, not really._  
  
Ginny nodded. _Then we're probably fine.  
  
Let's hope so,_ Harry thought. He looked down at the map, but Ginny felt that his thoughts had drifted elsewhere. _What's the matter?_ She asked him.  
  
_Nothing._  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. _Liar. You're worried about something._  
  
Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. _It's just — I might have been hoping that we might turn out to be the kind that can't spend longer than a few hours on our own._  
  
Ginny smirked, although her cheeks were warming. _Really? You'd want to spend that much time with me?_  
  
Harry frowned at her. _Why wouldn't I?_  
  
Ginny shrugged. _I don't know. I just thought never leaving each other alone for longer than a few hours might get old fast.  
  
Well, we do that now,_ he thought with a raised eyebrow. _Are you getting tired of me?_  
  
Ginny blushed, thought she wasn't sure why. _No, of course not. But that would include sleeping, wouldn't it?_  
  
Harry's eyes widened, and his neck got red. He looked down at his feet, then up at the ceiling, then at the map. Ginny felt him close part of his mind off as he started reciting the definitions of charms. Ginny smirked, even though she was blushing too, because she knew what he was trying not to think about. She should have been trying too, but it was a rather nice thought.  
  
Harry cleared his throat, and Ginny realized with a start that she hadn't blocked those thoughts from carrying over into his. She blushed brighter pink and looked away.  
  
They made it back into the common room without any further awkwardness. Harry kissed her cheek, and took the cloak and map. Ginny hooked a finger in his collar and pulled him back. She kissed his lips gently, and Harry seemed to forget what they were supposed to be doing. His hands rested at her waist; he pressed his lips against hers with increasing vigor. Ginny went from pulling at his collar to holding onto his shoulders, as the way his lips were moving over hers were making her feel like Hermione had hit her with a Jelly-Legs-Jinx.  
  
Harry pulled back; his breathing was coming out in heavy exhales and his eyes were still closed. Ginny raised a hand, pressing it to the skin of his neck. His flesh was warm under her fingers. She brushed her thumb over his pulse, feeling it throb and quicken.  
  
_We were supposed to be going to bed,_ Harry thought.  
  
_We were?_  
  
He nodded. Ginny ignored the thought, and pushed her fingers up into his hair. Harry raised a hand to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Ginny pressed her cheek against his palm, and he leaned in to kiss her again.  
  
_Seriously, you were insisting we hit the sack,_ Harry thought, pulling back. Ginny still ignored him; she brought her other arm up and draped it around his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers.  
  
"In a minute," she whispered. She felt him shiver, and smiled.  
  
"Seriously," he repeated. Ginny huffed, but stepped back.  
  
_Good night,_ she thought.  
  
_Night,_ he thought back, giving her hand a squeeze. Ginny let go, and pushed open the door to the girls’ stairs.  



	17. PMS And Reporters, What Fun! (Not.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Seventeen: The Goblet of Fire, Part Five  
PMS and Reporters, What Fun! (Not.)  
  
Ginny**

  
  
That night, Ginny’s dreams were confusing again. She was running through a maze of hedges taller than Hagrid, and there was roaring behind her, rushing her on. Her feet stung as she stumbled over gravel and grass and dirt alike. Flashes of fire appeared in her peripheral vision. She crashed into the hedge as she ran around a corner, and vines tried to entangle her to the wall. She ripped through them and kept running.  
  
The roaring got louder. Her heart pounded against her ribcage like a trapped beast. Ginny met a ‘T’ in the path; she turned to the left and saw fire licking at the plants. She spun around, and was met by the same predicament. The fires ran over the ground, catching everything it passed in its mouth and spitting it back out flaming. Ginny glanced up at the hedge, wondering if she could scale it. The sound of a heavy, and angry creature crashing through the vines and plants came from the direction she had come. Ginny grabbed at the hedge, trying to haul herself up.  
  
The plant collapsed beneath her weight. She landed on her back, and the breath was thrust from her lungs. Ginny lay there, gasping for air, as the creature broke into the pathway she was in. Ginny flipped over, and, still trying to catch her breath, assessed to the two fires, and picked one. She looked over to the beginning of the path, and caught her breath.  
  
A dragon, ten times the size of a normal man, sat on its haunches, breathing heavily in through its mouth and sending out smoke through its nostrils. The dragon roared; it thrashed its tail and shot three foot spikes from it. The spikes passed cleanly through the hedge behind it. Ginny took off to the left.  
  
She jumped over flames and hissed as they bit at her flesh. Her skin screamed in protest as she hit the ground on the other side, but she kept running. The dragon roared behind her, and she put in a new burst of energy. Ginny dodged a puff of flame as it reached out to snag her clothing. Her vision was tinged orange from the flames and she began to choke on smoke. The hedge on her right suddenly ended; Ginny saw fire-free ground and dived through the gap.  
  
She landed on her stomach in a circular section of the maze. There was no smoke; she gasped for the clean oxygen. The light was pale, coming from the moon above and a pedestal over her. There was no sound of the dragon. Ginny pushed herself off the ground and took a step towards it. Sitting on the pedestal’s surface was a large, decorative goblet, like a trophy. The light was coming from the cup itself. Ginny examined it, searching for a reason for the light. It just seemed to glow. On the front of it, were the letters TWT. She reached out, and traced the letters with a finger.  
  
Her body surged forward and upward at once. Her hand seemed glued to the trophy. The cup folded in on itself, sucking her along behind it. Ginny crashed onto the ground again, landing hard on her feet, but her legs buckled. She hit her knees and caught herself with her hands.  
  
She looked around; the maze had disappeared. She now knelt in a large room, lit only by a fire contained by a grate on the opposite end, halfway blocked by an armchair. Ginny straightened up, keeping as still as possible. The door to the room entered and a shadowed figure walked inside.  
  
“My lord,” the figure said in a deep voice that Ginny could almost remember, “I have translated the next section of the book.”  
  
“Good,” said a chilling voice in reply. Ginny shivered from a draft that wasn’t truly there, hugging herself and trying to shrink into the corner. “But is it deciphered?”  
  
“Not completely, my lord,” the servant said, bowing at the waist. “The code remained intact despite translating into English.”  
  
“Then return to work,” the second voice sighed. “Leave me.”  
  
The figure bowed again, and retreated from the room. A thin, decrepit hand appeared from behind the chair and lifted a small cup from the table beside it. Ginny clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent gasping and retching at the same time. What flesh there was of the hand stuck to the bones so much so that it was almost nothing but bones. In fact, she couldn’t really call the covering over the bones flesh. It was gray and sick looking and covered in festering patches, as if the skin had died years ago but the body hadn’t received the message. The hand retreated behind the chair with the cup, hiding its bones and rotting skin from view.  
  
Ginny swallowed bile and looked around for an escape. She couldn’t leave through the door in case the creature in the chair saw her or the shadowy servant returned. The cup had skittered across the floor when she had landed, stopping behind the chair. She wondered if the way in might also be a way out.  
  
But the creature in the chair… if she tried to get the cup, would it notice? Ginny took a hesitant step forward. The thing made no movement that she could see. She crouched, moving forward as carefully as she possible could, towards the faintly glowing cup. Her outstretched fingers were inches from the handle, when the voice came hissing out from the chair again.  
  
“Be still,” it said. Ginny froze. Every cell of her body vibrated with fear and adrenaline pushed her blood through her heart, making it thump loudly in her ears.  
  
“Be still, Nagini,” the voice continued. It did not sound malicious or even angry, just as though something had annoyed it.  
  
Then another sound reached her ears. The sound of a heavy, reptilian body sliding over the paneled wood floors. Ginny’s eyes went wide, and slowly, moved up. The tail of a snake disappeared behind the chair, then the head appeared next to the cup. Ginny jerked her hand back. A long, forked tongue came from the mouth of the triangular head, and it slid forward again. It reached the cup, paused, and then moved straight through the trophy as though it were dust in the air.  
  
“Come to me,” the voice hissed. Ginny was confused; how could the beast pass through a solid object? Unless the cup wasn’t solid. But she had touched it, and it had felt perfectly solid against her fingers. Ginny looked down at her hands, then at the cup on the floor. The creature in the chair was speaking softly to the snake, whispering words she wasn’t paying attention to. Ginny reached forward, and held her fingers before the back of the armchair.  
  
She touched it. Or she tried to. Her fingers passed through the fabric, leaving it shimmering as she pulled her hand back. She wasn’t solid either. Did that mean she could make no noise?  
  
Ginny took another step forward; the boards weren’t creaking beneath her, which was odd because they had creaked beneath the shadowy servant. She looked down at the cup, then back at the chair. She leaned forward to peer over the top of the chair.  
  
Ginny clapped her hands back to her mouth at the sight. The creature wasn’t human; it couldn’t be, the thing was too disgusting. Its head was over long, the skin a nauseating gray covered with more patches of rotting and dead flesh. She could see every vertebrae in its back and every rib. The back of its neck glistened despite the shadows, and she didn’t want to know what made it do so.  
  
The creature bobbed its head as it whispered to the snake. Knowing that she wasn’t solid made her a little less uncomfortable, but it didn’t erase every bit of fear. Ginny looked down on the snake with hatred and a bit of terror.  
  
“We shall soon be powerful, Nagini,” the creature hissed quietly. “We will need to be patient, but as soon as the Third Task comes, we will be ready.”  
  
The snake flicked its tongue again. Ginny wondered why this mad thing kept speaking to a snake, and if it knew that the snake would not reply.  
  
_Patience,_ whispered a voice. Ginny started, trying to find where it had come from. _Patience is a convoluted virtue._  
  
“That it is,” the creature sighed. “But necessary.”  
  
_How shall we rise, lord?_  
  
“From the blood of my enemy,” the creature said, its voice swelling with malevolent mirth. “With the death of Harry Potter.”  
  
Ginny’s eyes widened; she bent hastily and snatched the cup from the ground. Again, the trophy imploded silently, and she was sucked from the room.  
  
Ginny woke to her alarm blaring its irritating beep. She sat up slowly; her limbs felt tired and numb and her vision looked like Harry’s without his glasses. She blinked quickly, however, and it cleared. She turned around, blearily trying to find her alarm clock. Ginny slapped at it aimlessly, and it shut off; she narrowed her eyes and tried to focus on the time. 6:23. The alarm was set for 6:15, so it must have taken eight minutes for her to wake up.  
  
She lay flat on her back, trying to think. The dream had been interesting, she thought, but what had it been exactly? It seemed the harder she thought about it, the harder it was to remember.  
  
“Morning, Ginny,” Hermione said as she passed the end of her bed. Ginny waved vaguely in her direction. She cracked her neck and stretched her arms over her head. She twisted, and her spine cracked.  
  
“You know, that’s really bad for you,” Hermione told her. Ginny shrugged, then pulled her shoulders down as hard as possible, stretching the muscles.  
  
“Better than being stiff,” she yawned. “What’s our first class?”  
  
“Potions,” her friend said, “did you finish that essay with Harry?”  
  
Ginny froze in her spot, staring wide-eyed at the opposite wall. _Oh, sh —  
  
Morning,_ came Harry’s voice. _It’s much too early for that kind of language.  
  
Shut up, Potter, it’s too early to be awake. We didn’t finish the Potions essay._  
  
Silence from Harry’s end. Then, _Sh —  
  
Too early for language!_ Ginny snapped, a bit miffed with him. _Hypocrite.  
  
Well, I didn’t realize what it was about!  
  
You’re in my head, for bloody Merlin’s sake,_ Ginny huffed as she stood up. _Can’t you tell what’s bothering me in less than a second?  
  
Well, usually, but it’s early! You’re always grumpy in the morning, especially after a late night._  
  
Ginny scowled at her trunk, but she was aiming the scowl at Harry. _I am not grumpy!_  
  
She heard Harry stifle a chuckle. _Yes, dear,_ he thought. This seemed to irritate her more. Ginny opened the lid of her trunk with a jerk and yanked robes and Muggle clothes to wear underneath from it.  
  
_Git,_ she thought, striding towards the bathroom.  
  
_What did I do?_ Harry thought. He seemed quite flummoxed.  
  
_Everything,_ she thought sarcastically.  
  
_Is this because I made you go to bed before you wanted to?_  
  
Ginny stopped before a sink, her expression in the mirror confused. _What?  
  
Last night, you were, y’know, intent on kissing me.  
  
Oh._ Ginny blushed. _Oh, no, no, that was fine. Why would that bug me?  
  
The having to leave before you wanted to?  
  
No, that was fine. You had a valid point.  
  
I was right?_ Harry sounded surprised.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. _You are right on occasion, you know.  
  
I am?_  
  
Ginny shook her head and shut the door, both mental and physical, so she could change. In a minute, she had swapped her pajamas for jeans and a tee shirt with her robes on top of them and was brushing her teeth. She re-opened the mental flow, just to have Harry slam it closed again, shouting _OI! I’m indecent!_ Ginny almost choked on her toothpaste, and bolted the door shut from the outside. She had to respect his privacy, she could not peek.  
  
Ginny focused on scrubbing her front teeth. Lavender walked in and got in a shower stall. Hermione entered a minute later and started running a wide wide-toothed comb through her explosion of hair. Ginny was still brushing her teeth. As Hermione finished, she glanced at Ginny and smirked.  
  
“You’re going to ruin your toothbrush,” Hermione said.  
  
Ginny frowned, then removed it from her mouth and turned pink. The brush was much more frayed now than it had been when she began.  
  
“Did your teeth do something to offend you?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“No,” Ginny said thickly through the toothpaste. She spat it out and rinsed her mouth. “I was just distracted.”  
  
Hermione nodded, a knowing look entering her eyes. “Harry?”  
  
Ginny nodded as well, but did not elaborate. She gargled some water, then put away her toothbrush. Her bladder demanded attention, so she went into a toilet stall. A minute later, she swore very loudly.  
  
“What?” Hermione asked.  
  
“It started!” Ginny groaned. “I’m not due for another week!”  
  
She heard Hermione groan in sympathy. “Must be all the other girls affecting your hormones. Do you want me to get you some clean underwear?”  
  
Ginny muttered to herself as she drew her wand. “That would be helpful.”  
  
She heard Hermione’s footsteps leave, then come back and her hand held out a pair of her more plain underpants under the door. Ginny took it with a thanks and double checked the mental door before changing. She grabbed some extra pads from the dispenser on the wall and shoved them in her pocket. She glared at the dispenser’s logo: _Mrs. Magic!_ ’s Sanitary Napkins. The woman holding up one of the products to the sky was way too happy.  
  
Ginny washed her hands and glared at them. “Stupid period,” she muttered. “Did it have to happen now?”  
  
Hermione patted her arm. “Maybe it’ll go away before the first task.”  
  
Ginny groaned even more loudly. “I forgot! That must be why; it always shows up right when I need to not have it most!”  
  
Hermione winced. “Sorry.”  
  
Ginny nodded. “I feel sorry,” she said. “Bloody period, bloody female organs, bloody Mrs. Magic and her stupid cartoon…”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Never mind,” Ginny shook her head and grabbed her pajamas. Hermione followed her from the bathroom and dropped onto her bed while Ginny shoved her pajamas under her pillow and half-heartedly straightened the blankets. _I suppose this might be why I was so snippy with Harry,_ she thought absently as she pulled her hairbrush out and tugged out the band that contained her hair.  
  
_What was why you were snippy with me?_ Harry thought.  
  
_Are you decent now?_ Ginny asked cheekily.  
  
He was starting to blush, but he replied with a snarky tone. _As a matter of fact, no I’m not, I just decided to pop over whilst completely naked.  
  
Good for you,_ Ginny thought, ignoring the implications. She knew he was rolling his eyes at her now.  
  
_Anyway, what made you be snippy with me?_ Harry asked. Ginny started brushing out her hair.  
  
_My period started,_ she thought back. Harry cringed.  
  
_Seriously? There was no other way to phrase that?_  
  
Ginny huffed again. _You asked.  
  
That’s like personal, private, girl stuff information!_  
  
Ginny frowned. _You’re in my head; you would have noticed if you hadn’t been so oblivious. Usually you do figure it out before I tell you, anyway.  
  
Still!_  
  
Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes at the ceiling. She yanked out the last of the knots and tossed the brush towards her trunk. _You need to get over this, Harry. You’re going to know when I get my period every single month for the rest of our lives._  
  
Harry huffed; he was a bit grossed out. _I’m not ever going to get used to this._ Ginny shook her head and slipped off the bed. She considered fixing the blankets, but decided not to.  
  
“I’m going to get Harry,” Ginny said, waving to Hermione. She grabbed her school bag and slung it over her shoulder. “We need to finish that essay.”  
  
Hermione waved back. “See you later.”  
  
Ginny trudged from her dorm room down to the common room. Not many people were lingering, either they had already gone down or were still in bed. Ginny checked her watch; classes didn’t start for another hour and a half anyway. She pushed open the door to the boys’ stairs and paused, checking Harry’s thoughts to be sure there was no one wandering around in their underwear. From what she could see of what Harry could see, no one was. She jogged up, not particularly worried over being flashed. If there were many boys up, they were all in their rooms. Ginny found Harry’s door quickly, turned the handle and walked in.  
  
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan looked up, both startled. Dean quickly clutched his robes to his chest, even though he had on an undershirt. Seamus got over it quickly; he waved and kept looking in his trunk for something.  
  
“Morning, Ginny,” Seamus said warmly. “Bright day, eh?”  
  
“Mostly,” Ginny said. She waved at Dean. “You okay?”  
  
“Fine,” Dean said. His voice had taken on a higher tone. “Good afternoon — I mean morning.”  
  
Ginny smiled awkwardly at him and kept going towards Harry’s bed. Neville came out of the bathroom and said a sleepy ‘hullo’ as he passed her. He was the only one completely dressed. She didn’t see Ron, which was probably a good thing. Harry’s curtains were drawn for the most part, except for a section by his nightstand. He wasn’t by his bed, so he must have gone into the bathroom. Ginny pulled the curtain open the rest of the way and dropped her bag onto the bed. She plopped down beside it and dug around for her Potions book and some parchment.  
  
Harry came back and waved to her. Then he stopped, looked around, and gave her an utterly confused look.  
  
“Ginny?” he said.  
  
“No, I’m an alien,” Ginny said. “I’m here to suck out your brains.”  
  
“What are you doing up here?” Harry asked in a hushed voice.  
  
“Potions!” Ginny said. “We’ve got to finish the essay and it’s too cold everywhere else.”  
  
Harry glanced around, opened his mouth, then looked back to her with a strained expression. “One of them could have been naked, Ginny!”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I checked before I came in. Your eyes don’t lie.”  
  
Harry shushed her. “You shouldn’t be up here!”  
  
“It’s fine, Harry, now get your book.”  
  
“Ron will murder me!”  
  
“No, he won’t.”  
  
“They’ll never find my body! He’s mad enough as it is!”  
  
Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a stern look. He shut his mouth quickly.  
  
_You look like your mum,_ he thought. Ginny sighed.  
  
“Potions, Harry. We’ve got an hour.”  
  
Harry grumbled under his breath but got out his Potions book and a quill. Ginny handed him a foot of parchment and took out a quill and inkpot for herself.  
  
“Won’t we spill that up here?” Harry asked worriedly. Ginny counted to five — ten took too long — and waved her wand over the ink pot. It rose into the air and hung suspended in midair.  
  
“Page two hundred and eleven,” Ginny said.  
  
They only needed a total of nine inches of parchment; six for the poison and three for the antidote. Harry wrote down everything she said in a large, loopy scrawl. She found nine inches worth on their poison, Vida ido Frio, within thirty minutes. Just as she was taking Harry’s parchment to copy onto her own paper, while altering the words of course, Ron came around the end of Harry’s bed with his hair dripping water onto the collar of his robes.  
  
He glanced at them absently; Harry stiffened; Ginny began writing. Ron stopped in his tracks, turned slowly, and frowned at Ginny. Much like Harry had done when he first walked up.  
  
“How long have you been there?” Ron asked suspiciously.  
  
Ginny checked her watch. “Since about 6:50.”  
  
Ron glowered. “What are you doing up here?”  
  
“Homework,” she said. “We forgot to do the essay for Moody."  
  
“We’ve been watching ‘em, Ron,” Seamus said.  
  
“They do anything?”  
  
“Ron!” Ginny exclaimed.  
  
“What?” he asked. “You’re not going to tell the whole truth if you were messing around.”  
  
Harry’s cheeks turned red. Ginny scowled. “You don’t trust your twin? And your best friend?”  
  
Ron’s ears were tinging red as well. “You, maybe. Him, no.”  
  
“We were just doing homework!” Harry insisted. “And we’re not done, so would you please back off so we can finish?”  
  
“Whatever.” Ron turned away and shook his hair, spraying water everywhere like a dog. A drop landed on Ginny’s parchment, and another hit her in the face.  
  
_That’s it,_ Ginny pushed her scroll and quill at Harry. He caught them, a bit startled.  
  
_Wait, what? Don’t attack Ron!_  
  
Ginny ignored him. She wiped out her wand and grabbed a fistful of Ron’s robes. He looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, and she jabbed her wand in his face, nearly sending it up his nose.  
  
“You listen to me, Ronald Weasley,” she spat. “I don’t care how screwed up you are in the head, you cannot turn your back on your friends like this!”  
  
“Leave me alone, Ginny,” Ron said dismissively, trying to turn away again. Ginny redoubled her grip on his robes and poked her wand into the tip of his long nose.  
  
“You’re jealous because you think Harry entered his own name in the tournament, aren’t you?” she asked. Ron said nothing; she shook her fistful of his robes. “Aren’t you?”  
  
“Maybe,” he admitted. “Will you please get that out of my nose?”  
  
Ginny removed the tip from his nose and jabbed into the side of his cheek. Ron winced. “You’re a bloody prat, Ronald! Stupid, bloody, arrogant prat!”  
  
“What did I do?” he shouted.  
  
“Harry told you he didn’t do it and you didn’t believe him! That’s what you did!”  
  
Ron’s eyes darkened. “Let go, Ginny.”  
  
She released his robes, but left her wand pressed into his cheek. “He didn’t do it, and it’s time you got your head out of your arse long enough to realize that!”  
  
Ron slapped her hand away from his face. “Leave me alone, Ginny,” he snapped. Ginny opened her mouth, furious, when a hand closed on her arm.  
  
_Let it go,_ Harry thought. _It’s not worth it._  
  
Ginny jerked her arm out of his grip. _He’s hurting you,_ she shot back. _I know he is._  
  
Harry took her hand in his. Ron grabbed his book bag and strode from the room, stretching his long legs to hurry without making look like he was. He always did that when he felt cornered.  
  
_I’ll be fine,_ Harry told her.  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded, giving her a smile to prove it. She sighed, then remembered that there were other people in the room. She looked up, to find Neville, Seamus and Dean watching them. Neville looked downright scared of her and also impressed at the same time. Seamus looked confused and a little bit frightened, but Dean looked strangely awed. She raised an eyebrow at him. He shook himself and looked away.  
  
Ginny pushed past Harry and dropped back onto his mattress. Harry joined her, more gently, and handed back her parchment. She sent a mental thanks and started copying down the words.  
  
Another twenty minutes had gone by the time she had finished. Seamus and Dean left but Neville lingered. As Ginny was screwing the lid back onto the inkpot, Neville came forward, almost nervously.  
  
“I’m, uh, sorry Ron’s doing this,” Neville said, speaking to his feet. Harry looked up at him, and nodded.  
  
“I am too,” Harry said.  
  
“Do you have anything left to do for the first task?” Neville asked quickly. “I — I could help, if you needed —”  
  
“Not much,” Harry said with a shrug. “Just some final practices.”  
  
Neville’s cheeks were faintly pink. He nodded absently, still looking at his feet. “Right. Uh, see you later, Harry. Bye, Ginny.” He waved to them and walked away. Ginny thought she could still see a remnant of fright in his eyes from her outburst at Ron.  
  
“We should go,” Ginny said, getting up and draping the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “You need to eat before Potions.”  
  
“So do you,” Harry insisted. Ginny shrugged.  
  
“I’m not really hungry,” she said. “That usually happens during this time of the month.”  
  
Harry averted his eyes. “Right. Still talking about that.”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder. “Harry, if I can tell you about my period without me feeling uncomfortable, I’m going to.”  
  
“What about me?” he asked.  
  
She smirked. “Well, that doesn’t matter as much in this area.”  
  
Harry groaned.  
  


**HGHGHGHGHGHG HGHGHG  
Harry**

  
  
After Potions, they had Charms. Flitwick was trying to teach Summoning Charms, but most were failing at it. Except Hermione of course. After that was Herbology. On the way out, Ginny had to run to the loo, and Harry overheard her mentally cursing her cycle again. He did not listen very hard.  
  
While he was waiting for her, he started thinking about the task. He had no idea how to fight a dragon. What if he got killed? He shuddered. If the dragon killed him, they’d have to kill Ginny too, because according to the book he’d read in second year — not to mention Dumbledore’s ancient journal — she would be horribly sick within weeks. He shook his head quickly; they wouldn’t let him die. Harry groaned and let his head thunk against the wall. He still did not have a plan.  
  
A group of older students came past him, laughing loudly over something. One of them pushed another in the shoulder, making him stagger towards Harry. Harry straightened up, pulling his feet back towards the wall so the staggering boy wouldn’t trip over them. The boy waved to Harry as he regained his balance. Harry gave him a lazy two fingered salute, which was when he recognized him as Cedric Diggory. Harry dropped his hand quickly. Cedric was smiling at his friends, enjoying himself despite the looming task. Harry wondered if he knew he’d have to face a full-grown, very angry, fire-breathing mommy dragon on hormones in four days.  
  
Harry glanced back at the bathroom, then at Cedric’s back. He probably didn’t know. Delacour and Krum would, as Maxime and Karkaroff had seen the dragons, but Dumbledore wouldn’t have told Cedric. He would have respected the rules. Harry ran a hand through his hair, thinking it over. Cedric deserved to know, even if Harry wasn’t too fond of him. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and started to follow the group of Hufflepuffs. How could he get Cedric on his own? It certainly wasn’t a good idea to tell him in front of his friends; they were likely to either hex Harry for having become a champion or call him a liar, or something equally un-Hufflepuffish. He’d have to be sneaky about this.  
  
As they were going up the stairs, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Cedric’s school bag. He muttered a spell, and the bag ripped. The Hufflepuffs all echoed Cedric’s groan, and went to help him, but he waved them on.  
  
“I’ll catch up,” Cedric said. “Tell Professor Flitwick I’ll be there in a minute.”  
  
Harry waited until he was alone before coming forward. Cedric was picking up his books and siphoning ink off them with his wand. He looked up as Harry approached.  
  
“Hi,” he said, smiling kindly, “tough break this is. It’s a new bag and everything.”  
  
“The first task is dragons,” Harry said shortly. That wiped the smile of Cedric’s pretty face.  
  
“What?”  
  
“We have to fight dragons,” Harry clarified. “For the first task.”  
  
The color was fading from Cedric’s face. “Are you serious?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry said. He turned on his heel, then paused. “Good luck,” he added as an after-thought. Cedric nodded dumbly.  
  
“Yeah,” he muttered. “You too.”  
  
Harry walked back to where he’d been standing by the girls’ bathroom, leaving Cedric to clean up his books.  
  
“Oi, Potter.”  
  
Harry looked up. Professor Moody was stumping across the hall towards him.  
  
“Yes, Professor?”  
  
“I want a word with you,” Moody growled. “Come on.”  
  
Harry glanced at the bathroom door. “I’m actually waiting for a friend,” he said, hoping Moody would leave him be.  
  
“Come anyway,” Moody said, walking past. His wooden leg thudded loudly against the marble floor.  
  
Harry resigned himself to it and followed Moody down to the dungeons. The ex-Auror nudged open the door to the Potions Master’s room and limped across to the desk. Harry lingered in the doorway, looking around. Many of Snape’s creepy jars had been removed, though he could still see some in a cabinet that was halfway closed. Instead, Moody had lined the shelves with books and artifacts, many of which were lit up or rattling. On the wall by the desk hung a large polished glass surface, like a mirror, but instead of reflecting the room, the glass was fogged over and figures walked about in the background.  
  
“Sit,” Moody grunted, pointing to a chair before his desk. Harry sank into it. Moody sat down in the desk chair and propped his wooden leg on a stool. The end of it was carved like a clawed foot. It didn’t particularly help Harry’s feeling of uneasiness.  
  
Moody leaned his walking stick against the wall behind him and turned both his magical eye and his normal one on Harry. “So, what are you going to do about your dragon?”  
  
Harry was taken aback. “Sir?”  
  
“The dragon,” Moody said. “What are you going to do?”  
  
Harry blinked. “Er, I’m not sure what you’re implying —”  
  
“You know what I’m talking about, quit dancing around it, you aren’t a ballerina,” Moody snapped.  
  
Harry didn’t know how to respond to this, so he said nothing. Moody propped an elbow up on his desk and leaned on it. “What’s your plan?”  
  
“I —” Harry faltered. “I’m not sure I have one.”  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Ginny asking where he was. Harry took a mental picture of the room and of Moody’s glowering face, and showed it to her.  
  
“You don’t have a plan?” Moody asked. Harry shook his head. Moody grunted again, sounding irritated. “You’re just going to show up and pray it doesn’t barbecue you?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “That’s the best idea so far.”  
  
Moody scowled harder. “That’s a rubbish idea, Potter, and you know it. The other three are bound to have a plan of attack, at least the majority of one! Krum might have sawdust in between his ears, but Karkaroff will be filling it with advice. And Delacour, she’s just as much of a fairy princess as I am, she’ll be ready for it. Cedric Diggory even, now that you’ve told him, will be figuring out how to fight a dragon. And you know what all those plans will focus on?”  
  
Harry shook his head. “Their strengths!” Moody barked. Harry jumped a bit in his chair as a bit of saliva hit him in the face. “They’ll be playing to their strengths, Potter! And they’ve got plenty of them! What are **your** strengths, eh? What can you do to fight a dragon?”  
  
“Try not to die?” Harry suggested. That didn’t seem to amuse Moody.  
  
“You’re good at spellwork, I’ve been told,” Moody said.  
  
“Well, good enough to pass classes, but I don’t know anything that will help with a dragon! The only thing I can do well is fly, but how’s that going to keep me from being incinerated?”  
  
Moody seemed to consider this. “You can dodge a Bludger, can’t you?”  
  
Harry frowned. “Yes.”  
  
“How’s a fireball any different?” Moody asked.  
  
Harry thought there were many differences, the chief one being that the most damage a Bludger could do was break some bones, while a fireball could burn off his face, but he didn’t say that.  
  
Moody jabbed a gnarled finger in Harry’s face. “You need to play to your strengths, Potter. If you can doge a Bludger, you can dodge that dragon’s breath.”  
  
“But I won’t be allowed to bring my broom!” Harry said. “How am I supposed to fly, on my flaming coattails?”  
  
Moody didn’t have the temperance to smile. “You’re allowed a wand.”  
  
Harry merely looked at him. He knew he was allowed to have his wand, but how would that help him fly? Was he supposed to transfigure something into a broom?  
  
Moody kept scowling. “You’re allowed to summon things, Potter! You can summon your broom!”  
  
Harry had the ‘oh!’ moment. “So I should summon my broom and fly around the dragon’s head?”  
  
“Yes,” Moody said, apparently glad that Harry was finally understanding him. “It’ll be more useful than you think.”  
  
“It will?”  
  
Moody nodded. “You should work on that Summoning Charm, Potter. You’ve got four days to master it. Now, get out.”  
  
Harry’s chair scraped the stone floor as he stood up. “That’s it?”  
  
“That’s it,” Moody growled. “And if anyone asks, you were here to discuss your essay.”  
  
Harry nodded. “Er, how was our essay? In case someone asks.”  
  
Moody squinted at Harry. “Let’s just say I’m glad you’re not the kind to use slow-acting poisons.”  
  
Harry walked back up to the ground floor, thinking about how on earth he was going to master a spell he was complete rubbish at in four days, then remembered that he was late for Herbology. He broke into a run and sprinted through the Entrance Hall to the front doors. Halfway through the hall, his foot flew out from beneath him and he hit the floor with a loud crash and a mangled curse. Harry groaned. Lady luck must really hate him right now. He looked down and saw that he’d slipped on a miniscule puddle of ink. Probably ink spilled from Cedric’s bag. He cursed again under his breath, this time blaming karma, as he pushed himself up and rubbed at his now very sore backside. Harry wondered if he had broken his tailbone in the fall, as it was throbbing painfully. He walked more slowly now, glaring at the floor to make sure he didn’t step in anything else. Although, he thought as he was walking, it was probably payback for dumping Cedric’s bag all over the ground.  
  
Harry walked into the greenhouse as Professor Sprout was in the middle of a sentence. She looked up at him, and pursed her lips.  
  
“Ten points from Gryffindor,” she said, and the Gryffindors in the greenhouse all groaned. “And another five for dripping ink. Go to the back, Mr. Potter.”  
  
Harry looked down; his robes were wet from falling in the ink. He nodded glumly and followed her instructions.  
  
_What happened?_ Ginny thought as Sprout kept talking.  
  
_Slipped,_ Harry thought back. _There was an ink spill in the hall._ He relayed the memory of his fall, and Ginny winced slightly.  
  
_Are you okay?  
  
I’ll be fine._  
  
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing else. They got through the class without many more mishaps, although Harry did accidentally hit himself in the nose with a pair of pruning shears. After Herbology was lunch, and by that time Harry was starving. Ginny kept stealing bits of food from his plate, but he didn’t really mind. He told her and Hermione about what Moody had said, and Hermione instantly started lecturing on the theory behind the Summoning Charm. Harry wasn’t really listening to it, since there wasn’t much to it in his opinion other than a way to encourage laziness.  
  
Remus had them break into pairs and practice the Shield Charm in DADA that day. Fortunately, that was Harry’s last class. Unfortunately, Hermione still had Arithmency so Harry couldn’t get her to drill the Summoning Charm into him yet. Ginny was cranky again, even though she swore she wasn’t, and told him she was going to take a nap. Harry waited in the common room for Hermione to finish Arithmency. He did some homework, which included reading up on the Summoning Charm for Flitwick and to save his skin, but ended up nodding off on the couch. The day and the night before had taken more from him than he’d thought.  
  
When Hermione woke him up, he felt slightly numb and very slow. Ginny was with her, looking similarly bleary. Hermione took them to an empty classroom on the fifth floor, set a wooly hat on a desk, and turned expectantly to Harry.  
  
“Just start by trying to get the hat,” she said. “Focus.”  
  
Harry tried. Except, for some reason, every time he tried to focus on the hat, a large, angry dragon popped up in his brain and started spewing fire all over his mind.  
  
“Ignore everything else, Harry!” Hermione said. Harry kept trying.  
  
It took the rest of the day for the hat to even twitch in Harry’s direction. Once, it flew up and hit Hermione in the face, but that wasn’t a help. They only left for dinner, but it was almost curfew when they finished eating so they went back up to the common room. Hermione dropped the hat on the floor five feet from Harry and fixed her eyes on him.  
  
“It’s simple magic,” she said. “You have to want the hat!”  
  
“I want the hat!” Harry snapped. “I want to rip it into tiny pieces and burn it!”  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Are you PMSing?”  
  
Harry blinked in confusion. “What?”  
  
Ginny groaned and covered her face in her hand. “He is.”  
  
Hermione smiled, then quickly hid it behind her hand. “It’s carrying from you to him, isn’t it?”  
  
Ginny nodded. “This hasn’t happened much before.”  
  
“Must be new,” Hermione speculated. She was still trying not to laugh.  
  
“Excuse me,” Harry asked agitatedly, “but what is PMS?”  
  
“Premenstrual Syndrome,” Hermione said. Harry groaned.  
  
“I hate your cycle,” he grumbled at Ginny. She scowled at him.  
  
“You hate it?” she said. “How do you think I feel?”  
  
“You loathe it worse than Snape,” Harry said, slashing his wand at the hat. “Accio hat! Accio hat! Accio, Accio!”  
  
Something fuzzy hit his face. Harry snatched it off, then turned his wand back on the hat. Then he frowned. The hat wasn’t there.  
  
Hermione and Ginny were looking at him with mild surprise.  
  
“You got it,” Hermione said. Harry looked at the spot where the hat had been sitting, then down at his left hand. The hat was sitting in his clenched fist.  
  
“I did,” he said, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Ginny shrugged off her sweater. “Summon this, Harry.”  
  
Harry pointed his wand at the sweater on her lap. “Accio Ginny’s sweater.”  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
“Maybe we need to get him upset again,” Hermione suggested.  
  
“Accio Ginny’s sweater!”  
  
“Try just saying ‘Accio sweater,’” Ginny suggested.  
  
“Accio sweater,” Harry said, more firmly.  
  
The sweater flopped off Ginny’s lap and landed on the floor.  
  
“Accio sweater!” Harry repeated. One sleeve lifted up and vaguely waved in his direction. Harry gritted his teeth. “Accio sweater!” he growled, putting emphasis on every syllable.  
  
The sweater rolled over, slowly moving towards him like it didn’t want to move. Harry jabbed his wand at it, and it shot towards him. Again, he got hit in the face. At least it smelled like Ginny.  
  
Harry tossed the sweater back to her, then Hermione set her Arithmency textbook on a table and started digging through her school bag. “Accio book!” Harry said, jabbing his wand.  
  
He probably should have thought about that more.  
  
The book jumped off the table and flew towards him, straight towards his face. “Uh oh,” Harry said. He threw his hand out, trying to catch it. The book swerved around his outstretched hand, still aiming for his face. “Crap!” he yelped, ducking. The book turned and hit him on the back of the head, then flew around to the front and smacked him on the nose.  
  
“Ow!” he moaned, sinking to the floor. The book flopped down and landed heavily on his lap. Harry let out a squeak of pain, then fell over backwards. He heard Hermione laughing on the other side of the room, and saw Ginny bending down beside him, also laughing.  
  
“Ow,” he muttered quietly.  
  


**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG  
Ginny**

  
  
On Friday, first period was free so they kept practicing in an empty room. Harry’s attempts to summon things ranged from them lazily floating toward him to trying to attack him. He did not try to summon a book or anything hard again until the frequency of violent attacks thinned to almost nothing. Yet he still refused to summon one of Hermione’s books.  
  
Second period was Transfiguration, where McGonagall started talking about Switching Spells. Third period, they had Care of Magical Creatures, where Hagrid had Blast-Ended Skrewts for them. He told them to be extra careful about their eyes, since, like most creatures, they were vulnerable. For some reason, he winked at Harry when he said this.  
  
As they were leaving lunch for Charms, someone stopped them in the corridor.  
  
“Harry, Harry!”  
  
Harry turned then looked to Ginny with a panicked look. Ginny frowned, and found the source. She clenched her jaw and her fists.  
  
Parvati Patil jogged up to them. She flashed a smile at them both, Ginny felt like hexing it off her face, then focused on Harry.  
  
“Professor McGonagall asked me to fetch you,” she said. “The champions are all gathered for a wand weighing.”  
  
“A what?” Harry said. He seemed surprised she wasn’t trying to flirt.  
  
“A wand weighing,” Parvati repeated.  
  
“They want to test your wand to be sure it’s working properly,” Ginny said, glaring at Parvati. She didn’t seem to notice. One of these days, Parvati was going to wake up with her perfect teeth crooked and black and her lovely luxurious hair all cut off. Oh, she would enjoy transfiguring her nose into an ugly splotch and hexing pimples all over her clear caramel skin.  
  
“Oh,” Harry said. He was fighting a smile, since he had overheard her plans. “Where are they?”  
  
“I’ll show you,” Parvati said.  
  
“Actually, I need to ask you something,” Ginny said, forcing a smile. “I need your help.”  
  
Parvati’s smile faltered. “Oh, okay. Er, they’re two corridors over, in room 312.”  
  
Harry nodded his thanks, then walked away, head down. Ginny stepped over to Parvati and linked her arm through her roommate’s.  
  
“So, you like Harry?” Ginny asked sweetly.  
  
Parvati looked at her suspiciously. “And if I say yes?”  
  
“Just answer,” Ginny kept the anger from her voice.  
  
Parvati nodded. “He’s hard not to like.”  
  
“Yeah, he is, isn’t he,” Ginny chuckled. “Of course, I wouldn’t begrudge you that if you simply fancied him, but you’re flirting with him.”  
  
Parvati shrugged. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”  
  
Ginny fingered her wand. “Oh, maybe because it’s incredibly rude to flirt with a boy in front of his girlfriend? Not to mention hazardous to your health.”  
  
Parvati tried to tug her arm away, but Ginny held on. In the back of her mind, she heard Harry say something about ‘damned interviews.’ “It’s especially bad for you if the girlfriend is the kind who likes to hex people for fun.”  
  
Parvati tugged harder. Ginny shifted her grip so her hand was clamped onto Parvati’s upper arm. She tapped her wand on Parvati’s chin, no longer smiling.  
  
“You’ll stop bothering Harry if you know what’s good for you,” Ginny growled.  
  
“Let go of me,” Parvati snapped  
  
Ginny pressed the tip into her chin. “Some people don’t leave marks,” she said. “I do.”  
  
Parvati’s brown skin turned tan. She wrenched her arm out of Ginny’s grip. “Don’t touch me,” she said.  
  
Ginny smiled her worst smile. “I don’t need to,” she whispered. Parvati lifted the hem of her robe and ran.  
  
_You’re freaky sometimes,_ Harry thought. Ginny tucked her wand into her pocket and walked towards the Charms room.  
  
_Only when I need to be,_ Ginny thought back. She slipped into the classroom and took a seat in the back before focusing on Harry’s thoughts again. Parvati was sitting next Lavender at the front of the classroom, and they were talking quickly in hushed tones. She closed her eyes, not really listening to Flitwick talking about Banishing Charms, and saw through Harry’s.  
  
“So, Harry, what made you enter in the tournament?” a woman with sharp blonde curls asked Harry.  
  
“I didn’t,” Harry told her.  
  
“Miss Weasley,” Flitwick called. Ginny snapped her eyes open and looked up. “Can you tell me the theory behind Banishing Charms?”  
  
Ginny bit her lip. Flitwick nodded, pursing his lips. “Yes, I thought as much. Please pay attention, Miss Weasley.”  
  
Ginny nodded meekly. Flitwick continued, and she kept one half of her mind watching Harry and the other listening to the talk. The blonde woman was Rita Skeeter, and she was interviewing him for the Daily Prophet. Not long later, Dumbledore interrupted and Harry’s wand was weighed. It was in perfect working order, according to Ollivander. Then, Skeeter insisted on a photo. Ginny stopped paying as much attention to Harry and listened to Flitwick.  
  
Every now and then, Parvati glanced over her shoulder at Ginny with a worried expression. Ginny caught her eye once and twirled her wand in her fingers. Parvati looked away quickly. Ginny smirked.  
  
Harry came in ten minutes before class ended. Ginny gave him a fast recap, and after the bell rang, Hermione promised to give him her notes. She had a whole roll of parchment of them. After their last class, they met back in the Charms room and Harry summoned Flitwick’s pillows from Hermione.  
  
“How was the wand weighing?” Ginny asked.  
  
“Wand weighing?” Hermione asked.  
  
Harry nodded as he jabbed his wand at a pillow. “That was why I was late. My wand’s fine, but that’s not all that happened. Did you see that reporter, Ginny?”  
  
Ginny nodded, and nudged the pillow surreptitiously as Harry spoke the incantation. It surged forward about five feet. “She looked right nasty, in my opinion.”  
  
Harry grimaced. “I don’t like her either. I read some of her notes, and she had it written down that I was crying about my parents!”  
  
Hermione frowned. “What was her name?”  
  
“Rita Skeeter,” Harry said. Hermione groaned.  
  
“I’ve heard of her,” Hermione said. “She writes horrible articles, practically rumor-mongering. She’s really cruel with a quill.”  
  
Harry groaned as well. “Just my luck,” he said. “I get the reporter who’s out for everyone.” He jabbed his wand at the pillow. “Accio!”  
  
It flew up and struck his face. Harry snatched it off and flung it away.  
  
“At least it wasn’t a book,” Ginny said helpfully. Harry glared.  
  



	18. If Afraid of Burns Or Incineration, Do Not Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I haven't updated in a while, but that is due to the fact that first: I haven't been at home for about a month; second that I spent two weeks with no electronics at summer camp, and lastly that I've just been binge watching Bones a lot. Anyway, here's the next chapter; I'll try to update more often.

**Chapter Eighteen: The Goblet of Fire Part Five  
If Afraid of Burns or Incineration Do Not Read  
Ginny**

  
  
  
By Sunday night, Hermione had convinced Harry to attempt to summon larger, heavier things than simply hats and pillows. Ginny held his Firebolt on one end of the Common Room, and held it tight. Harry stood on the other and said, “Accio broom!”  
  
The broom tugged itself from her hands and shot across the room. Harry bent his knees, preparing to duck if it decided to spear him on the handle, but it hit his palm without turning the sharp end towards him.  
  
“You’re getting it Harry!” Hermione said gleefully. Harry set the broom down and turned to Hermione. “Accio pillow!”  
  
The pillow flew from Hermione’s hand and caught Harry in the chest. He tossed it towards the couches. “Ginny, come get the broom.”  
  
Ginny took a step towards him, then paused. She didn’t really want to walk all the way there if there was a better way. She raised her wand. “Accio broom!” she said.  
  
The broom lifted itself off the ground and turned towards her. It flew across the room, then stopped just before her.  
  
Harry and Hermione stared.  
  
“Wow,” said Hermione.  
  
“Not fair!” said Harry.  
  
Ginny smirked. Harry jabbed his wand at her. “Accio broom!”  
  
The broom shot from her hand and landed in Harry’s. Ginny pointed her wand at him. “Accio broom,” she said again, calmly. The broom plucked itself from his hand and flew to her again, stopping in the air so she could pick it up.  
  
“So not fair!” Harry said. “How come you can do it perfectly first try?”  
  
“Was that your first try?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Ginny said. “Maybe it’s just easier for me.”  
  
“Why?” Harry said. “Accio broom.”  
  
“Maybe because I get stuff like this faster than you,” Ginny guessed. “Accio broom.”  
  
The broom passed between them for a while longer. It was like they were playing catch. Hermione threw in a random object every now and then, but mostly they summoned the broom from each other. It came to Harry with increasing ease, and to Ginny in the same, calm but quick the way it had done on her first attempt.  
  
“Maybe it’s because you learned it first, Harry,” Hermione mused, sometime around one o’clock in the morning.  
  
“What?” Harry said, catching the broom.  
  
“Accio broom,” Ginny said. The broom left Harry’s hand as Hermione continued.  
  
“Maybe it was easy for her because you already knew it.”  
  
Ginny thought about that, fingering the handle of Harry’s broom. She heard Harry repeat the incantation and let go, the broom fell an inch before catching itself and flying towards him.  
  
“Maybe,” Ginny said. She glanced at her watch then looked to Harry. “Do you feel satisfied?”  
  
Harry yawned in answer. Ginny walked across the room and poked Hermione’s shoulder. She had been sitting in an armchair, eyes closed, for the past half hour.  
  
“I’m awake,” she mumbled.  
  
“We’re done, I think,” Ginny said. Harry nodded. Hermione sighed and pushed herself out of the chair.  
  
“I’ll let you say goodnight in private,” she said. “But don’t take too long.”  
  
Hermione went up the stairs, yawning as she did. Harry set his broom in the vacated chair and opened his arms. Ginny walked into them and rested her head on his shoulder.  
  
_Thank you,_ Harry thought. Ginny smiled faintly.  
  
_You’re welcome,_ she replied.  
  
_I really needed all that help,_ Harry mused.  
  
_Yup,_ Ginny yawned too. _Are yawns contagious?  
  
I don’t think so,_ Harry thought. Then he yawned. _Maybe._  
  
Ginny chuckled and kissed his cheek. Harry brought his lips to hers, catching them quickly. She smiled as he released her mouth, and he kissed her nose. _That was a nice thank you,_ she thought.  
  
Harry grinned. _Glad to be of service._  
  
Ginny squeezed her arms, hugging him tightly. _You should get to bed. The task is in ten or so hours._  
  
Harry sighed. _Don’t remind me._ He retracted his arms and gave her one last kiss on the cheek. _Good night, darling.  
  
Night, sweetheart,_ she thought back. Harry grinned as he picked up his broom and started up the boys’ stairs. Ginny picked up the jacket Hermione had left behind and went up the girls’ stairs.  
  
Her alarm woke her up instantly the next morning. Her hands shook as she shut it off, and she sat there, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to order her thoughts. A dragon, she kept thinking. Harry had to fight a dragon. Now that she was awake, she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, even though she really wanted to.  
  
Harry was still asleep, and it was only seven, so Ginny left him alone. The task didn’t start until 11:00 and he didn’t need to be there until ten thirty at the earliest. She made sure the door was closed though, before going into the bathroom and taking a shower. She stood under the stream of hot water, trying to wake up. She didn’t have nearly enough sleep.  
  
It was quarter to eight by the clock in the bathroom when she shut off the water. The room was instantly cold without the water; Ginny shivered and wrapped a towel around herself. She stepped out of the shower stall to the little changing space outside and grabbed her wand. She muttered a quick spell, and hot air started pouring from the tip. She rubbed away the water with the towel and then twisted it around her hair while she dressed.  
  
Ginny went back into the dorm itself and closed herself inside her curtains. Her wand was still spewing warm air, so she started drying her hair. Her alarm clock said it was eight thirteen. Three hours. Harry was still asleep. She had a feeling he’d forgotten to set an alarm. Ginny finished drying her hair and tidied her space a bit. She made the bed, pushed back the curtains, and scraped all the loose junk on top of her night table into a drawer. Eight twenty nine. Two and a half hours until Harry needed to head out. Bagman had told him Sunday afternoon to wait in the Entrance Hall for him at eleven. Ginny sat down on her newly made bed and took out a book. She tried to read, but her thoughts kept straying. What if Harry got hurt? What would they do? What if he got the Horntail, the worst of all of the dragons? What if the Summoning Charm didn’t work and he couldn’t fly? What if he couldn’t complete the task? What if he was killed?  
  
Ginny shook her head with a jerk. Harry would be fine. He was the best flier she’d ever seen, better even than Viktor Krum, and the spell hadn’t backfired since Saturday. Although, that last thought wasn’t much comfort.  
  
Ginny glanced at her clock and fell back against her pillows with a groan. It was barely eight forty. She couldn’t just sit here and be bored much longer. So, she put the book away and left the room, walking as quietly as she possibly could. Ginny went into the common room and dropped onto a couch, attempting to arrange her mind into an ordered fashion. Her thoughts seemed to be bouncing around and pinging off the walls, and random dragons ran around spewing fire. Ginny rubbed at her temples, fighting a headache. In her agitated state, the presence of Tom’s memories felt like a physical weight on her shoulders. In the back of her mind, she felt them poking and prodding at the barriers she had created in her brain. This always happened when she was stressed, or when her period came around. When both happened, Tom’s memories felt like they had a mind of their own.  
  
Ginny let her head fall onto the back of the couch and squeezed her eyes shut. Her eyelids were red, like dragon fire. She felt jittery and worried. Somewhere, she heard faint, humorless laughter. There was a sudden chill on her neck, like a cold finger stroking her skin.  
  
Ginny pushed herself off the couch and started towards the boys’ dorms. It was almost nine o’clock, Harry could wake up now. She jogged up the stairs and walked quickly to Harry’s dorm. She could have just shouted mentally at him until he woke, but Ginny just felt like she needed to see him. Vaguely, she wondered if this had anything to do with what the journal had said, that it was unwise for them to spend long apart. She pushed this aside as she did the door, and tip-toed inside.  
  
Seamus and Dean were still asleep, their curtains wide open to prove this. Neville’s bed was empty and made, but he wasn’t in sight. Ron’s curtains were drawn, but she knew he was present by the sound of his snoring.  
  
Harry’s curtains were pulled shut as well. Ginny gently pulled them open, revealing her best friend lying on his side, curled up with a pillow clamped in his arms like a teddy bear. She smiled. The sight seemed to displease and frighten away Tom’s memories, as the flickering images that had grown faded. There was a sudden ache in her chest, something that almost screamed with a need to simply touch him. Ginny reached out and combed her fingers through his hair. Harry stirred, and his hand came up to grasp hers, although his eyes remained shut. The skin on skin contact soothed her frayed nerves.  
  
_Wake up,_ Ginny thought. Harry pressed her palm against his cheek but still did not open his eyes. _Wake up, the task starts in two hours._  
  
Harry rolled over, releasing the pillow but still holding her hand tightly. Ginny stumbled forward, and collided with the edge of his mattress.  
  
_Harry!_ Ginny thought. Her hand was at an awkward angle, and it hurt a bit.  
  
“Wake up,” she said, trying to tug her hand free. Harry’s grip tightened, and he tugged back. Ginny fell against the bed and caught herself by locking her elbow and dropping her other hand onto the bed. Harry rolled over again, knocking her arm out. Ginny fell with a sharp intake of breath, landing on top of him. Harry grunted, and he finally let go of her hand. Ginny tried to get off him, but then his arms came up and locked around her waist.  
  
“Bugger,” Ginny muttered. Harry’s breath fell on her hair; it sent shivers down her spine. “Harry, you need to wake up!” she hissed. He mumbled vaguely in words that were either of his own creation or complete gibberish. Her back didn’t like the position she was in, and her legs were beginning to complain as well.  
  
Ginny tried again to rise, but he tightened his grip. Harry shifted again, so he was lying on his side in the same way she’d found him. Her legs shouted in protest, now the position was worse.  
  
Ginny sighed and drew her legs up onto the bed, so she was now lying beside him rather than standing bent double. Harry inhaled and exhaled, still asleep.  
  
Ginny lay there for a moment, trying to figure out how to remedy the situation, or even if it needed remedying. Harry’s rhythmic breath on her face was calming; she felt like simply returning to sleep. Her eyelids drooped and she inhaled his scent deeply.  
  
But the task was soon. She glanced over her shoulder and checked his clock. Quarter past nine. Ginny sighed. Harry had to be ready to fight in just ninety minutes.  
  
Ginny nudged his shoulder. Her arms were trapped between their chests, so she couldn’t do much. Harry grunted in his sleep and turned his face down, bumping his forehead against hers.  
  
She had an idea. Ginny slipped her arm up and pushed her fingers into Harry’s hair. She felt his breath shudder. Ginny pulled his head closer and touched her lips to his. Harry murmured something. Ginny kissed him harder.  
  
“Wake up,” she whispered.  
  
“Uhmmm,” Harry mumbled.  
  
Ginny caressed his scalp. “Wake up, love.”  
  
Harry opened his eyes and squinted at her. “Huh?”  
  
“It’s time you wake up,” she said.  
  
Harry knit his eyebrows. “What are you doing there?”  
  
“I came to wake you up, but it proved to be difficult.”  
  
His cheeks reddened. “Difficult?”  
  
“You seemed to want to hold me.”  
  
Harry glanced down, at his arms locked around her waist. Quickly, he let go. “Sorry.”  
  
“I don’t particularly mind,” Ginny said with a shrug and a half-smile. “But you do need to get up.”  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“Quarter past nine.”  
  
Harry let out a strangled curse and jumped off the bed, almost tangling himself with the curtains on the other side of the bed. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he asked incredulously. Ginny sat up with an indignant expression.  
  
“I tried, thank you very much, but you were insistent on sleeping.”  
  
Harry smacked himself in the forehead. “I’m going to start setting an alarm.”  
  
_That’s a great idea,_ Ginny thought, leaning back on his pillows. She closed her eyes again as Harry went around to his trunk to get clothes.  
  
“I need a shower,” Harry muttered. He glanced at her with a bemused expression. “I don’t smell bad, do I?”  
  
Ginny shrugged. “No more than usual.”  
  
Harry scowled. “Gee, thanks.”  
  
“Welcome, love. Go!”  
  
Harry nodded, and started towards the bathroom. Then he stopped in front of the door and turned back to her. _When did you start calling me that?_ He thought.  
  
Ginny thought about it. _Just now, I suppose. Do you mind?_  
  
Harry grinned. _Nope! Keep doing it._  
  
Ginny smiled as he went into the bathroom, and she felt him close the mental door. She stretched, and slipped into a prone position. She rubbed her cold fingers together and tucked them under Harry’s blankets. The bed smelled strongly of him, and the scent was dulling her brain. She inhaled deeply, feeling quite content. She reached around and closed the curtains, blocking out the light. Ginny settled down on his pillows, thinking she could catch a quick nap while he was in the bath.  
  
A moment later, something poked her shoulder. She waved it away and buried her face in a pillow.  
  
_I have to get up, but you don’t?_ Harry’s voice asked her.  
  
Ginny opened her eyes and blinked. Harry must have showered quickly. She sat up, stretching. “You ready to go to breakfast?”  
  
“Yeah, I just need shoes.”  
  
Ginny pushed back the curtains and was met by Ron doing the same thing. Ron looked startled.  
  
“What the —” he said, gaping.  
  
“Morning,” Ginny said coolly. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d acted on Thursday.  
  
“What are you doing up here?” Ron asked. His face was quickly reddening, but she noticed that he had been rather white.  
  
Ginny stuck her nose in the air and looked at him in disapproval. He seemed taken aback by her expression.  
  
“I’m standing by my friend and helping him,” Ginny said coldly. “You might want to try it for a change.”  
  
Ron clenched his jaw and his expression hardened. “Did you stay the night, or were you just here to support him in the morning?” he snapped. Ginny’s eyes flashed. She felt Harry’s temper rise, but it was nothing compared to her own anger.  
  
“Is that what you think of me, Ronald?” she asked, reaching for her wand. “As some kind of — of a scarlet woman?”  
  
Ron dropped his gaze to the floor. He got out of his bed and moved to his trunk, not answering her. Ginny bit her lip and moved over to where Harry was sitting on his trunk, lacing his shoes. His fingers were fumbling with the laces, and as she watched, he tied a knot around his thumb. Ginny bent and waved his hands away.  
  
“Stop, stop,” she muttered. Harry sat up with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
_It’s bad enough he’s like this with me,_ Harry thought after a moment. _Why does he have to be cruel to you?_  
  
Ginny tied his shoe instead of answering. She pulled the laces as tight as possible and tied them with an equally tight bow.  
  
“That’s a bit tight,” Harry said. Ginny blinked, then realized that Harry was wincing.  
  
“Sorry,” she muttered, untying it and trying again.  
  
_He got to you, too,_ Harry thought.  
  
_Of course he has!_ Ginny’s thoughts burst free. She dropped onto the trunk next to Harry and mimicked his pose. _He actually asked if I slept with you! My twin! He should know better!_  
  
Harry unfolded his arms and wrapped one around her. _I’m sorry, Ginny._  
  
Ginny bit her lip harder. There was a different kind of ache in her chest, and her eyes felt watery. She blinked them away quickly. She would not cry, not now, not here. She would not give Ron the satisfaction of knowing that he’d hurt her.  
  
_I don’t think he would be satisfied,_ Harry said in a mental whisper. Ginny drew in a shaky breath. She glanced at Ron; he was gathering his things for a shower and kept his eyes anywhere but near her.  
  
Ginny looked down at her feet, at Harry’s laces tied upside down, anything but at her twin. Harry was right, Ron wouldn’t feel victorious if he saw her crying, but she wasn’t sure if he would feel remorseful or indifferent anymore. There once was a time when they had been inseparable, when they did everything together and the world be damned if they couldn’t. That time hadn’t been so long ago, but right then, it felt like centuries.  
  
Now she had to keep Harry alive.  
  
Ginny stood up and held out her hand to him. Harry laced his fingers through hers and she led him away, out of the dorm room and out of Gryffindor tower. She didn’t pay attention to where she was going, merely keeping her hand fixed in Harry’s. The nerves she had woken up with now felt like her every emotion was battering at her like tsunamis, and now she felt depressed because Ron didn’t trust her anymore.  
  
Harry squeezed her hand. _We passed the Great Hall, darling._  
  
Ginny looked up; they were headed towards the ground floor classrooms. “Oh.”  
  
Harry tugged gently on her hand, guiding her back to the Great Hall. She was unsure as to how she had missed it, as the noise coming from it was tremendous. Everyone was awake and nervous for the first task. Harry stopped by the doorway; Ginny heard his spirits deflating further.  
  
“Maybe we should eat in the kitchens,” Ginny whispered.  
  
“Okay,” Harry said. Ginny tugged at his hand and they turned away again.  
  
“I’m sorry about Ron,” Harry said as they walked into the basement. Ginny nodded, her eyes downcast.  
  
“I’m sorry too,” she murmured. “I wish I had known he would be like this.”  
  
Harry squeezed her hand. “He’ll come round.”  
  
“Hopefully,” Ginny said. She glanced at Harry and immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, I’m going and making this about me, but it’s you he’s betraying —”  
  
“Both of us,” Harry interrupted. “The way he’s treating you, it’s about us both.”  
  
Ginny nodded again. Harry tickled the pear and opened the entrance as it giggled.  
  
The house-elves were eager to assist, and soon they were seated in a corner with the same food the students were eating above them. Ginny had to pester Harry into eating, even though he protested with claims of nausea. He still ate two helpings of everything.  
  
Harry’s nerves were so jumbled when they finished eating that they bled over to Ginny. Her hands shook as she pushed away her plate and Harry thanked the house-elves. He was always so polite, even when he had to fight dragons.  
  
Ginny glanced at her watch and stood. “We should go.”  
  
Harry nodded. He took her hand as they left the kitchens.  
  
“Remember the Summoning charm,” she muttered, her heart pounding while they climbed stairs back up to the ground floor. “Remember to use the Shield charm just in case you can’t dodge in time. Remember —”  
  
“I remember,” Harry cut her off. They entered the Entrance Hall, and their eyes landed on Ludo Bagman’s bouncing figure at the same time. Ginny squeezed his hand, not wanting to let go.  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Harry insisted. Ginny bit her lip.  
  
_You’d better be,_ she thought. Harry smiled nervously.  
  
“Harry, m’boy, at last!” Ludo said, clapping his hands together. “It’s half past ten already!”  
  
“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry said, “but I’m not overly eager to —”  
  
_You don’t know anything about dragons!_ Ginny thought hastily.  
  
“To begin the task,” Harry corrected. Ludo didn’t seem to catch his almost-slip.  
  
“Ah, well, neither would I if I were you,” Ludo sighed. “But, the show must go on!” Then he seemed to notice Ginny for the first time. His eyebrows raised and his face brightened. “Oh, hullo, lass! Harry, would you kindly introduce us?”  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny. “Er, this is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley.”  
  
Ginny stuck out her free hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bagman,” she said.  
  
Ludo took her hand, and, instead of shaking it, bent and bestowed a light kiss on her knuckles. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Weasley,” he said warmly. Ginny smiled back, although her hand now felt oddly cold. Ludo released it, and she tried not to pull it back too quickly. In the part of her mind that was Harry’s, she felt confusion, protectiveness, and even a faint sense of jealousy. He gripped her hand more tightly.  
  
“Now, shall we go down to the stadium?” Ludo asked, beaming upon them both.  
  
“I suppose,” Harry said glumly. Ludo bowed at the waist and held out his arms, gesturing them ahead. Harry pushed open the door and held it open for Ginny, then for Ludo. Ginny released his hand so Ludo could pass by, and waited for him to follow.  
  
“We’ve got a stadium set up down by the lake,” Ludo said cheerily. “Miss Weasley will have to go sit in the stands, however, while you and I enter the champions’ tent. There, Barty and I will tell you about the task.”  
  
Harry nodded quickly. Ginny felt him pushing back waves of nervousness, just as much as she was ignoring her slight nausea. Ludo kept talking, something about how much planning had gone into the first task, but Ginny wasn’t listening and neither was Harry.  
  
All too soon, they reached a tent pitched outside a large stadium, not as large as the Quidditch World Cup stadium, but larger than the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. Ludo opened the tent flap for Harry, but he hesitated.  
  
_You’ll do fine,_ Ginny thought quickly. Harry nodded, his jaw clenched. Ginny bit her lip, then threw her arms around his neck. He locked his arms around her waist; burying his face in her hair. _Good luck._ Harry leaned back, then quickly kissed her cheek.  
  
_I’ll need it,_ he thought back. She smiled tightly at him, then stepped back. Ludo put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, guiding him inside the tent. He gave Ginny a wave, then followed Harry in.  
  
Ginny pushed her hands into the pocket of her sweater and started walking towards the stadium. There were a few people, older students getting extra credit for community service she guessed, standing around, to direct the spectators into the stands. One glanced at his watch in a bit of confusion, but directed her towards the empty stands. Ginny found a seat in the top most row, and closed her eyes as she sat down to focus on what Harry was seeing.  
  
The champions were all gathered in the tent. Each of them looked tense and somewhat excited, but mostly tense. Krum was off by himself, glaring at everything that moved. Fleur was sitting in a corner, her normally haughty face was pale and there were faint circles beneath her eyes. Cedric was pacing the length of the tent, his hair unkempt and he was wringing his hands. She felt Harry’s nerves grow as he stepped into the tent. Mr. Crouch was standing in the center of the tent, holding a dark, silk bag in his hands and looking like he didn’t really want to be there.  
  
“Ah, finally, Mr. Potter,” Crouch said. “Come in, all of you gather round.”  
  
Ludo gently pushed Harry forward, she felt him flinch at the foreign touch. Ginny filled with irritation at the man. The other champions came forward, and Crouch held aloft the bag.  
  
“First, I must wish you all luck,” Crouch said. “What you are about to face is meant to test your daring, your courage. I shall not reveal the danger quite yet, we will wait until the audience is assembled for that.”  
  
Ginny snorted in her seat. She knew for a fact that the Hogwarts champions were aware that they would be facing dragons, and was almost willing to bet her life savings that Fleur and Krum knew as well.  
  
“But when they are, I shall offer you this bag, from which you will retrieve a model of what you are about to face, which will determine exactly which one you face, and also the order in which you face them.”  
  
_Please, whatever Lady Luck thinks of me, let me not get the Horntail!_ Harry thought. Ginny echoed his plea.  
  
“The object of this task is simple,” Crouch said. “To collect the golden egg.”  
  
Harry nodded; her view shifted up and down. Then, something poked her shoulder and she was brought back to her own mind.  
  
Ginny looked up to see Sirius, Remus, and Hermione joining her. She smiled at them, but it wasn’t really a genuine smile.  
  
“How is he?” Remus asked as he took a seat beside her.  
  
“Nervous,” Ginny answered.  
  
“We tried to find him this morning,” Hermione said, “to wish him luck, but he wasn’t at breakfast.”  
  
“I took him to the kitchens,” Ginny said in reply. “There were too many people in the Great Hall.”  
  
“That’s what I told them,” Sirius said, dropping down on her other side. “He hasn’t told us what his plan is.”  
  
“You’ll see,” Ginny replied. Hermione caught the hint and said nothing either.  
  
Ginny closed her eyes, again, listening to Harry as the stadium filled. His thoughts were a jumble, and though she tried to help sort them, he kept scattering them again. Quickly, the chatter of excited persons waiting for the first task to begin rose and it became more and more difficult to focus on Harry’s thoughts. Remus switched seats with Hermione because people were pressing in on all sides and she was getting a bit nervous about it. Hermione had never liked crowds. Sirius bounced in his seat, Harry’s thoughts pinged off the walls of her skull, Hermione started biting her fingernails.  
  
_Ginny, listen!_ Harry thought suddenly. Ginny crammed her fingers in her ears and tried to block out the sounds of the crowd.  
  
“Ladies first,” Mr. Crouch said. Ginny saw through Harry’s eyes as he held out the silk bag to Fleur. She reached inside, and withdrew from it a small, living model of a Welsh Green.  
  
_Dammit,_ Ginny thought, I was hoping you’d get the Green.  
  
Fleur looked determined as she gazed down on her dragon, which had a tag bearing the number two around its neck. There was no sign of shock in her face; they had been right in assuming Madam Maxime would warn her student.  
  
Crouch offered the bag to Krum, who withdrew a model of the Chinese Fireball tagged number three. Krum stepped back and looked down at his dragon with a surly expression.  
  
Cedric reached into the bag next. Ginny bit her lip, begging whoever was listening to give him the Horntail.  
  
He got the Swedish Short-snout.  
  
Ginny mouthed swear words. Harry’s spirits were sinking and there was dread in his heart as he reached into the bag and withdrew the Hungarian Horntail.  
  
Harry caught his breath. His mind was spinning even worse now, with waves of fear, dread, and anger at the unfairness of it all clouding his vision. Ludo was saying something else, but Harry wasn’t really listening.  
  
_Sit down,_ Ginny thought quickly. Harry didn’t have any other idea so he obeyed. Ginny focused on trying to be calm, hoping her emotions would bleed into his mind and affect him. Harry began to breathe more slowly.  
  
“… you will enter the arena at the sound of the canon,” Ludo said. “First, Mr. Diggory, then Miss Delacour —” he bowed slightly to Fleur as he said this —“then Mr. Krum and finally Mr. Potter. Good luck, champions.”  
  
With that, he and Crouch swept from the tent. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, transmitting reassurance to Harry. He was staring down at the Hungarian Horntail in his palm, which roared up at him and raked its small talons over his skin.  
  
Someone jostled her from behind, forcing her eyes open and breaking her concentration. Ginny looked up, ready to tell whoever it was off, but faltered at the sight of half-moon glasses flashing in the sun and a long white beard.  
  
“Pardon me, Miss Weasley,” he said politely, stepping past her and towards a roped off section of the stands where Karkaroff and Madam Maxime were already seated. Ginny glanced around, spotting Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch coming up behind her as well. She scooted forward in her seat to allow them to pass. Ludo shot her a wide smile, and patted her shoulder as he passed her. A cold shiver went through her as his hand landed on her shoulder, and remained in place as he removed it. Ginny smiled tightly back, and turned her gaze onto the rocky arena. Right then, it was empty. She wondered where the dragon was.  
  
A canon blast rang through the stadium. Ginny clenched her fists. Cedric Diggory appeared from the shadows of a tunnel entrance, his face set in grim determination.  
  
Another barred door opened, one much larger, and a loud roar split her eardrums. Thudding feet carried the body of a large, blue scaled beast into the arena. The dragon made straight for a nest resting in the center of the arena, where several eggs rested. As the Swedish Short-snout settled on top of it, Ginny caught a glimpse of a golden gleam.  
  
Ginny watched Cedric fight without really paying attention. Harry was watching through her eyes as well, and she felt his emotions swell and collapse throughout the fight. Ludo Bagman commentated like he had done during the World Cup, but she wasn’t listening.  
  
It was over before she realized it. Cedric fled from the arena, clutching the golden egg and his burnt left arm. Ten wizards ran in and started casting spells over the dragon, calming it into a stupor. Ginny saw her brother’s red hair catching the sunlight as he bent to collect the remaining eggs. The Short-snout was led away, and the judges scored Cedric’s performance. He got a total of 42 points.  
  
Fleur came out next. The Welsh Green spewed fire everywhere, catching her robe, but in the end, she got the egg without great injury. Harry’s nerves were mounting. She was given 36 points, ten of them coming from Bagman.  
  
Krum’s first action was to cast a Stinging Hex on the Chinese Fireball’s eyes. The dragon’s scream of pain and rage rattled Ginny, almost as much as the sight of the female staggering and crushing several of her own eggs. She felt an almost physical pain as the eggs were smashed, as the small lives growing in them were destroyed. Once the Fireball realized what she had done, her roar was stricken with even more pain, bordering agony, and she launched herself at Krum.  
  
Krum’s battle was the longest by far. The Fireball roared and shot fire indiscriminately, as though she was determined to roast Krum alive, and Ginny was certain she was. The smashed remains of her eggs oozed over the few that had come unscathed.  
  
Krum managed to get the egg, but not without severe burns. The dragon tamers rushed out to console the Fireball, while medi-wizards helped Krum into another tent. The Fireball sent one last mushroom cloud of fire into the air, her voice still filled with rage, and collapsed from exhaustion and the spells of the tamers. Three of the tamers huddled around the nest, examining the eggs. One of them shook his head; Ginny craned her neck to see. Charlie raised four fingers into the sky, looking up at the judges. She fell back into her seat. Of the dozen eggs the Fireball had, only four were left alive.  
  
Krum was brought back out to receive his score. Dumbledore gave him the same score as the eggs still left: Four. He was left with 35 points, though Ginny, her fists shaking with anger, felt that he deserved zero for causing the destruction of the baby dragons. Yet, she was even more appalled at Karkaroff’s reaction; he gave Krum a full ten.  
  
The nest was cleaned and Charlie and another dragon tamer brought in the eggs of the Hungarian Horntail. They cast spells over them, pulsating blue light, before placing the golden egg amongst them. Ginny hoped those spells were protection, in case the Horntail went into a rage like the Fireball did. Of course, she was certain that Harry wouldn’t do anything to harm the eggs on purpose, but precautions were best.  
  
The canon sounded again. Ginny bit down on her lip, her eyes darting from the champion’s tunnel to the dragon’s entrance. From the dragon’s entrance, another roar sounded.  
  
_What if I just don’t come out?_ Harry thought.  
  
_Please, Harry,_ Ginny returned, _you’ve got to put Krum further into last place._  
  
Before Harry replied, the bars over the dragon’s entrance rose and the Horntail soared out. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat; the dragon was fearsomely beautiful, her long tail wiping around and crashing into rocks and the sides of the arena as she flew for her eggs. She roared, and blew flames fifty feet into the air. Ginny bit harder.  
  
Slowly, Harry’s figure came from the shadows. His face was white, and so were his knuckles as he clenched his wand.  
  
_You can do this._  
  
Harry nodded, she saw even from a distance. _I can do this._  
  
He raised his wand into the sky. Ginny closed her eyes, silently praying it would work.  
  
She didn’t really hear his words, but she knew what he said. “ _Accio broom!_ ”  
  
At first, nothing happened. Harry took a tentative step towards the dragon, and leapt back as she coated the ground with orange flames. She felt his rising panic, and then a speck in the distance caught her eye. Her attention shifted, and a grin grew over her face as she saw the broom shaped speck flying closer and closer.  
  
_It’s coming!_  
  
Harry looked up, and she felt hope rise in him at last. The broom was catching the attention of more and more people, and they were pointing at it as it neared the stadium. Harry stuck his hand out in the air, and the handle impacted with his palm. He mounted it, and kicked off, as another burst of flame scorched the ground where he had stood.  
  
The crowd ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ as he shot through the air around the Horntail, dodging the dragon’s fire and attracting her ire. Ginny chuckled to herself at the rhyme, then her stomach dropped as Harry barely evaded a blast of fire. But she felt elation in him anyway as he performed his aerial acrobatics.  
  
The Horntail was sitting on her haunches, almost standing on her back legs, trying to catch Harry in her jaws. She seemed just as agitated as before, but less irritated, more like Harry was a bothersome fly rather than a danger to her young. Harry soared a hundred feet in the air, getting almost too far to see, then dropped suddenly. The dragon rose up, spreading her wings, almost in triumph as she opened her jaws, but Harry shot past her and to the nest. She roared, ducking down, but he had scooped up the false egg and was shooting out of range before her clawed fee hit the ground.  
  
Ginny jumped up and cheered as Harry flew out of sight into the champions’ tunnel. The whole stadium jumped up and cheered; even the ones who had despised Harry for his gall to be in the tournament. The dragon tamers came out and took away the Horntail, as the noise was agitating her further, but the crowd shouted on. Ludo Bagman was trying to shout over the roar, but failing. Ginny jumped over her bench and started pushing and shoving to get off the stands, with Sirius, Remus, and Hermione on her heels. She made it out of the crowd, and ran for the medical tent.  
  
The other champions were visible, being treated for their burns and scratches, but Ginny made a beeline for Harry. He grinned at her, despite his arm covered in purple salve. Ginny threw her arms around his neck, and Hermione did the same, so Harry was smothered by both of them at once.  
  
“Oof! Ow! Argh; gerroffme!” he grunted from beneath them.  
  
“Oh, my goodness, Harry that was wonderful!” Hermione shrieked.  
  
“You were perfect!” Ginny crowed, kissing his cheek with a broad grin.  
  
“Let the man breathe,” Sirius said, but Ginny heard a smile in his voice. Hermione retreated, her face pink, but Ginny just dropped down onto the cot beside him and left her arm around his waist.  
  
“That truly was marvelous, Harry,” Remus said, beaming down on them.  
  
“Marvelous?” Sirius grunted. “That was bloody brilliant! How’d you think of it?”  
  
“Moody gave me the idea, actually,” Harry said. Sirius grinned wider, if that was possible, and thumped Harry on the shoulder.  
  
“Best performance possible,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they gave you fifty points!”  
  
_Neither would I,_ Ginny thought, kissing his cheek again. Harry grinned.  
  
The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted the exchange. They turned, and saw Ron standing in the tent entrance, his ears clearly red even from there.  
  
“Er…” was all he said.  
  
Remus grabbed Sirius by the arm and muttered something in his ear. Sirius muttered something else, and let Remus lead him out. Hermione glanced between Harry and Ron, then followed. Ron took a hesitant step forward. Ginny stayed where she stood.  
  
“What do you want?” she snapped, her cheerful mood gone.  
  
Ron cleared his throat again. “I, uh, well, you — you flew good out there, Harry,” he mumbled, his gaze on the ground.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. “That it?”  
  
Ron’s ears turned a darker red. “Look, I just came to say that I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, and I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a git to the both of you. I’m… I’m sorry.”  
  
He hung his head, and turned away. He took half a step away, eyes still on the ground. Ginny glanced at Harry, a bit stunned, then slipped off the cot and grabbed Ron’s hand. Her twin met her eyes, and she saw genuine shame in them.  
  
She hugged him. Ron seemed surprised at first, but he let his arms encircle her and patted her back.  
  
“We forgive you,” she whispered. Ron pulled back, looking relieved. Harry stepped up to them, and held out his hand to Ron. Her brother took it, and her boyfriend pulled her brother into one of those handshake-man hugs. Ginny smiled at them.  
  
“You really were brilliant,” Ron said. Harry grinned.  
  
“What made you decide to believe him?” Ginny asked Ron.  
  
Ron looked uncomfortable. “Uh, well, I’m not really sure —”  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Really?”  
  
He glanced at his feet. “Well, honestly, I had — I had this dream last night.”  
  
Harry’s grin faded. “What dream?”  
  
“I don’t really remember all of it, but I remember hearing two people talking about you, and about how their plan was working perfectly, and I remember thinking how weird it was, but I kept seeing this paper with your name and it wasn’t your handwriting —” Ron shrugged. “I woke up feeling weird, and when I saw the dragons, I guess I decided that you must have been completely mad to have entered yourself.”  
  
Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. “That’s what we’ve been saying!”  
  
Ron smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”  
  
Ginny smiled too, but his story bothered her. She had been having weird dreams for years, but Ron had never mentioned ever having a dream that didn’t involve Quidditch or food. It was almost ominous.  
  
“… and the judges have decided on their scores,” they heard. Ginny gasped, then grabbed Harry’s arm, and dragged both him and Ron out of the tent to see Harry’s score.  
  
Dumbledore gave Harry a nine, eights came from Crouch and Madam Maxime. Ludo gave Harry a ten, Ron supposed for his flying, but Ginny wasn’t quite as sure. Karkaroff gave Harry a:  
  
“Four?!” Ginny and Ron shouted in rage.  
  
“You gave Krum full marks!” Ron continued.  
  
“And Harry didn’t make his dragon kill half her young!” Ginny steamed.  
  
“Still, he’s got 39 points,” Hermione said. “He’s in second behind Cedric.”  
  
The Gryffindors all gathered around Harry; Fred and George lifted him up on their shoulders and cheered loudly, so much that you could barely hear the Chinese Fireball still lamenting her young.  
  
The resulting party in Gryffindor tower lasted until well after midnight, when Professor McGonagall came to tell them to get to bed. Once Harry was finally released from the crowd, Ginny guided him back up to his dorm with Ron on his other side. He was so tired, that he nearly fell asleep on the walk. Ginny gave him a gentle kiss goodnight before going to her own dorm. She collapsed onto her bed with a sigh. It had been a very long day.  



	19. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the very bottom, the story that is inserted is parts of the Little Match Girl, originally written by Hans Christian Anderson, although the version I have was edited by Sheila Black, no relation to Sirius Black. I think. I got it from A Treasury of Childrens Literature, which was published in 1992. The book is frickin older than I am, so Ive got no idea where I got it or who Sheila Black is. Anyway, story is Hans Christian Andersons the Little Match Girl, retold by Sheila Black. And heres another long chapter. Have fun!

**Chapter Nineteen: The Goblet of Fire Part Six  
The Yule Ball  
Harry**

  
  
  
Harry slept through morning classes the day after the first task, and when he panicked about it, Ginny told him that McGonagall had given him permission. Apparently, fighting a dragon qualified as a good reason to skip classes.  
  
Despite this, his classes seemed to be getting aggressively difficult. Flitwick was pleased with Harry’s performance with the Summoning Charm and showed this by drilling them on the opposite, Banishing Charms. Divination with Trelawney got steadily worse, Transfiguration he could barely comprehend, and History of Magic only got drearier.  
  
The last of November felt like a funeral for the students’ sense of freedom. Homework piled up, dark circles appeared under their eyes, and Harry wished for either a clone he could send to lessons or a time machine. Sometimes both at once.  
  
None too soon, the last Hogsmeade trip of the year came, and the week before, the announcement of the formal occasion Sirius and Tonks had equipped them for came along. The Yule Ball; it would be held on Christmas Eve and was open to anyone fourth year and above, though if an older student wanted to take someone from third or second year, they could. Harry didn’t particularly worry about it, since he had Ginny. He had asked her during the summer, but asked again just to be sure. She rolled her eyes as she said yes, but she was also smiling.  
  
While they were in Hogsmeade, Ginny went shopping with a bunch of girls from her year, what for Harry had no idea. Harry got his dorm-mates all together and they went Christmas shopping. Ron ended up asking Seamus’s advice on what to get Hermione, as Seamus had already gotten the reputation for being popular amongst the females. Seamus went on and on about how they liked to feel ‘pretty’ and ‘special’ and ‘wanted’ and therefore advised Ron to get her a really sparkly necklace, that looked like it was covered in diamonds but Harry was fairly certain that all of them were glass. Harry ended up telling Ron that Hermione would much rather receive a book than the necklace, but Ron agreed with Seamus and bought the necklace.  
  
Seamus tried to give Harry advice on what to give Ginny, but being able to read the mind of your girlfriend has perks, such as not having to be confused and lost as to what to give her on their first Christmas as a couple. Honestly, Harry wasn’t sure how Christmas was a milestone in their relationship, but he was sure that it was important. He spent some time thinking about her gift, then decided to get two things, one more personal than the other, because he happened to see a pair of earrings that he was positive she would like. The second, more personal gift… Harry had to rack both his brains and hers to figure out what.  
  
At the end of the day, the five of them got a drink in the Three Broomsticks and the girls’ Ginny had joined stopped by. Seamus ended up asking Lavender to the dance, and Neville, emboldened it seemed by Seamus’ success, asked Hermione.  
  
It didn’t end well. Ron got red in the face, and Harry was sure he was going to start yelling at Neville when Hermione startled him further by saying she already had a date.  
  
“What?” Ron spluttered. “But — but I — you can’t have —”  
  
“Yes, I can, Ronald,” Hermione snapped, suddenly irritated.  
  
“But —” Ron’s face went from red to pink, though his ears were still cherry colored. “Who?”  
  
Hermione looked away. “I don’t have to tell you,” she said.  
  
“Go on, tell us,” Harry said.  
  
“I won’t,” she said. “Stop pestering me.”  
  
“Why not?” Ron asked, his tone suspicious.  
  
“Because,” she snapped again and walked away. Ron glared at her back, then turned away muttering about how he should have bought a book. Harry met Ginny’s eye from across the room, and she sighed. He glanced at Neville, who had walked away with a red flush when Hermione said no, and silently asked Ginny for aide on his friend’s plight. Ginny thought it over, then pulled one of her friends from the group’s center. Harry started towards Neville as Ginny came towards him as well.  
  
“Hullo,” Neville said hollowly.  
  
“I, uh, I’m sorry you didn’t beat Hermione’s date to the punch,” Harry said.  
  
“Yeah,” Neville agreed glumly. “I was hoping to actually have a date, but she was the only girl I could think of who would consider me.”  
  
Harry opened his mouth to say something encouraging, though he was completely clueless, when Ginny reached him, arm in arm with the blonde wisp of a girl, Luna Lovegood.  
  
“Hello, Neville,” Ginny said cheerfully, “Luna, this is my friend Neville Longbottom. Neville, Luna Lovegood.”  
  
Luna stuck out her hand. “Enchanted to meet you, Neville Longbottom.”  
  
Neville shook Luna’s hand cautiously. Harry edged closer to Ginny, concealing his baffled expression with a smile.  
  
_Uh, was there no one else?_ He asked.  
  
Ginny smiled at him, but discreetly she kicked him in the shin. Harry muffled a yelp and glared at her. She smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek.  
  
_Luna is a perfect match for him,_ she thought. _Just watch._  
  
Harry decided not to argue further.  
  
“So, Neville,” Ginny said, smiling even more warmly, “Luna’s been telling me about how she wishes she could go to the Yule Ball, but unfortunately all the boys we know have dates.”  
  
Neville raised an eyebrow. “Really? Are you not a fourth year, Luna?”  
  
“No,” Luna sighed. “I had the unfortunate timing of being born in January, 1981. Had I only been born half an hour earlier, I would have arrived in 1980, but I still would be a third year.”  
  
Neville raised the other eyebrow. “Really? That’s quite… interesting.”  
  
“Yes, I’ve been told so,” Luna said dreamily. “Many people think it romantic to be born within the first hour of the new year, but it does make either my birthday or the holiday less important. I don’t really mind, though.”  
  
“Oh.” Neville was looking less glum, in fact, he looked almost fascinated, but mostly bemused. “But, you don’t have a date to the ball?”  
  
“Oh, no,” Luna said with a shake of her head. “As Ginevra said, all the boys we know either have dates or are infested with nargles, and I shan’t spend the evening with someone infested with nargles, as that would be quite unproductive.”  
  
Neville blinked. “What are nargles?”  
  
“They are invisible little creatures that fly into your brain through your ears or your nose, depending on the weather, and make your mind go all fuzzy,” Luna said simply.  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Fortunately for you, you seem to have a minimal amount of nargles, in fact almost none.”  
  
“How can you tell?”  
  
“By the whites of your eyes,” she said. “They’re quite clear.”  
  
Neville smiled nervously. “Er, okay.”  
  
Luna returned his smile, but rather more vaguely, and just stood there.  
  
Neville cleared his throat and looked at his feet. An awkward silence settled between them. Harry glanced at Ginny; she flashed him a ‘be patient’ look.  
  
“So, do you want to go to the ball?” Neville asked, his voice even more nervous than his smile.  
  
“I would like to,” Luna answered. “I hear that Professor Dumbledore has commissioned a group of wood elves to sing Christmas carols.”  
  
Harry frowned. _Are there other kinds of elves besides house elves?_  
  
Ginny shook her head subtly. _No, I don’t think so, but Luna believes in a lot of strange things; such as nargles._  
  
Harry nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure. Neville looked equally unsure, but he kept on. “Would you like to go with me then?” he asked quietly.  
  
Luna bestowed him with one of her rare, wide smiles. “I would love to, Neville Longbottom.”  
  
Neville brightened considerably. “Really?”  
  
“Why, yes, you seem to be naturally resistant to nargles, in fact.”  
  
He looked a bit confused, but pleased that he now had a date. “Great!”  
  
Ginny threaded her arm through Harry’s. _I suspect our work here is done,_ she thought smugly. Harry smiled at her, then waved to Neville and Luna as Ginny led him away.  
  
_Do you know who Hermione’s going with?_ Harry asked Ginny. She gave him a stern look.  
  
_Do you think I would tell you?_  
  
Harry shrugged. _Maybe, if you wanted any kisses between now and the New Years._  
  
Ginny huffed. _You wouldn’t survive that either._  
  
Harry sighed. _I had to give it a try._  
  
She smirked and rested her head on his shoulder. _I know._  
  
The day ended far too soon, and they were heading back to Hogwarts with lighter purses and full stomachs. Harry and Ginny walked with their arms linked and their hands shoved deep into their pockets to avoid the cold. It began to snow as they walked through the front gates, and they were running rather than walking as the wind picked up.  
  
The last two weeks before the end of term flew past compared to November, what with everyone talking nonstop about the upcoming dance.  
  
The day of, Ginny insisted he not peek into her mind without her permission, to ensure he didn’t see her dress, she said. Harry grumbled about this, but let her go. He participated in an epic snowball war — not a fight, a war — that ended about an hour and a half before the Yule Ball began. Fred and George insisted on approving his and Ron’s appearances before letting them go.  
  
Harry looked at his robes in a bathroom mirror, then looked over at Neville, who was buttoning his up to his chin. Ron was struggling with his while Fred and George pretended to help, and Dean and Seamus were wearing Muggle suits. Harry looked back to the mirror, slightly pink.  
  
The robes were a dark shade of green and made out of a shimmery material. There was a cloak, a robe, then trousers and a dress shirt with a vest. The trousers and cloak were black, the vest was a lighter green, and the dress shirt was the same emerald color with a black bow tie. Harry had gotten on the trousers, shirt, and robe just fine, but his vest was unbuttoned and the tie sat in his hands innocently. He had no idea how to tie it.  
  
“Oi, Harry, get these two off me!” Ron called from the other room. Harry draped the tie around his neck and left the bathroom.  
  
“I think he’s had enough help,” Harry said.  
  
“Oh, but he hasn’t gotten his robe on straight yet!” George said with an impish grin. Ron’s robe was anything but straight, that was true, but Fred was trying to button it upside down and backwards while Ron fought to take it off.  
  
“Get off!” Ron snapped at Fred, waving a hand over his head at his brother. Fred ducked Ron’s flailing hand but he did let go. Ron stumbled forward at his sudden release, and into a bed post. “GITS!” Ron yelled. Fred and George laughed, Harry grabbed the robe and tugged it off Ron’s head. Ron’s hair stuck up everywhere, and he turned to glare at his brothers.  
  
Harry shook out the robe. “Here,” he said, handing it back. Ron shrugged it on right, and started doing up the buttons.  
  
“I’m going to murder you two,” Ron growled.  
  
“Just don’t get the blood on your shirt,” Harry warned.  
  
“Harry, you’re tie’s done up wrong,” Fred said.  
  
“Here, let me help,” George added, stepping forward. Harry whipped out his wand and held it between them.  
  
“Oh, no you don’t!” he said. “I’d rather you not choke me, thanks.”  
  
“Oh, you wound me, Harry,” George said, clasping a hand to his chest.  
  
“Why would we choke the Great Boy Who Lived?” Fred added, faking a starry eyed look. “The Fourth Champion!”  
  
“Our sister’s favorite male!” George added.  
  
“Our bodies would never be found!” they said together as a look of utter horror at the prospect of upsetting their sister crossing their identical faces.  
  
Harry shook his head at them. He walked away, moving back to the bathroom mirror, and stared at his tie. He seriously didn’t know how to tie it.  
  
“Need help with that, mate?” Seamus asked. Harry looked around, and noted Seamus’s perfectly knotted tie.  
  
“Uh, yeah, that would be great,” Harry said. Seamus came over and knotted his tie.  
  
“There ya go,” Seamus said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “Ginny’ll be speechless.” He winked, and moved back towards his bed. Harry looked back to his reflection, and nervously tried to flatten his hair. There really was no point, but somehow it made him feel better to try.  
  
Ten minutes later, Fred and George ushered them down to the common room. The twins immediately left with Alicia and Angelina, and Seamus and Dean left not long after with Lavender and Parvati. Ron didn’t have a date — he was still sulking about it—, and Neville’s was in a different house, but they waited with Harry for Ginny.  
  
Harry checked his watch every thirty seconds. He could hear vague giggling on Ginny’s side of his mind, but that was all he could hear.  
  
_All right, we’re coming,_ Ginny’s voice suddenly said.  
  
Harry straightened up instantly and tried to flatten his hair. Ron rolled his eyes at him.  
  
The first to step down was Hermione; she had on a pale blue robe, with a high lace collar and billowy sleeves. She had flattened her hair, and it was hanging in a straight curtain around her shoulders. She looked quite nice. Harry was impressed and wondered vaguely if she would share the secret to taming unruly hair, when Ginny followed.  
  
Somewhere, he heard Ron laughing at him, and Neville chuckling, but Harry wasn’t quite sure he was even in his own body anymore. Ginny curled her red lips in a smirk and waved a hand.  
  
Her dress was long and black and hugged her curves. Harry felt his ears and neck heating up as his eyes followed the cut of her dress. The fabric glimmered in the lights, and it looked like the light was attracted to her. Her sleeves were tight to her arms until her wrist, where they flared over her knuckles. She had painted her nails black to match the dress. His gaze drifted back up her arm, to where the dress slipped off her shoulders, exposing creamy skin dotted with freckles. She had curled her hair as well, and left it loose around her shoulders. She’d painted her eyelids with smoky grays and blacks, making them look larger and her older. Her eyes sparkled as she smirked at him.  
  
Ginny stopped in front of him and closed his mouth. “You were about to start drooling,” she said with amusement.  
  
Harry shook his head. “Uhhhh…”  
  
Ginny smiled wider. “Earth to Harry, come in, Harry.”  
  
He shook it again. “Uh, you are, you look, um, you’re…”  
  
Ginny curled her arm through his, which made his tongue decide to completely fail him.  
  
“Thank you, Harry,” she said, giving him a small peck on the cheek. Harry beamed.  
  
Then he noticed that Ron had stopped laughing, and his gaze was fixed on Hermione. She was steadfastly ignoring him.  
  
“Shall we go down?” Hermione said.  
  
“Yeah,” Neville said, rising from his seat on a couch.  
  
“Ron, close your mouth, before a fly makes it its home,” Ginny said, glancing at him. Ron snapped his jaws closed.  
  
_I think Ron’s noticed she’s a girl,_ Harry thought.  
  
_I think so too,_ Ginny replied. _You owe me twenty kisses.  
  
Happy to oblige, my lady, just say the word._  
  
Ginny giggled. _I see you have recovered your speech.  
  
No I haven’t, I’ve just recovered my thoughts._  
  
The two of them kept grinning as they walked down to the Entrance Hall.  
  
The Entrance Hall was filled with noise, as students waited anxiously for the doors to the Great Hall to open. Neville found Luna standing in a corner of the hall, staring into space. Harry thought her dress was interesting to say the least: Long, layered, and soft purple. She wasn’t wearing her customary necklace of butterbeer caps, but she still wore her normal radish earrings.  
  
“There you are, Potter!”  
  
Harry turned in the direction of the voice, to see Professor McGonagall coming towards him in robes a similar shade of green to his. She put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it gently.  
  
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, sounding just a bit flustered, “the Champions are nearly ready to enter the Hall.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry said. “Er, what’s special about that?”  
  
McGonagall squeezed his shoulder again. “Because you shall enter the Hall in procession, Potter.”  
  
Harry internally groaned. Ginny patted his hand and gave him a tender smile.  
  
“Yes, Professor,” Harry sighed. McGonagall took his elbow and began leading him away. “Good evening, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Lovegood.” Harry looked around, wondering why she hadn’t greeted Hermione, but she wasn’t there anymore. McGonagall steered Harry with Ginny in tow towards the doors, heading for a spot off to the side where Harry could see Krum and Fleur standing with their dates, and Cedric’s ugly mug standing beside Cho Chang. Ginny pinched his hand. McGonagall stopped Harry at the end of the group, and clapped her hands. “Please, form a line with Champions on the right and your dates on the left.”  
  
The four complied. Krum and his date stood right in front of Harry. His date had pulled her hair off to the side, exposing her neck, and Harry saw that her ears and neck were flushed. Also, the girl had pearl droplet earrings. He had seen earrings like those before; he’d given a pair to Hermione for her birthday in September. The girl fidgeted with her skirt with the hand not linked with Krum’s arm. Her sleeve was long and billowy.  
  
_Wait a minute, that **is** Hermione!_ He thought with a gasp.  
  
Ginny nodded vaguely as Hermione heard him and turned; she blushed.  
  
“Hi,” she said, even though she’d seen them only a minute before. Krum glanced over his shoulder and frowned at Harry.  
  
“Hermy-oh-ninny,” Krum said; Harry winced at the mispronunciation of her name, “you know him?”  
  
“Yes, we’re friends,” Hermione said. “You know Harry, of course, but this is Ginny Weasley, his girlfriend.”  
  
Krum nodded stiffly, though his expression had relaxed. “It is a pleasure to meet you officially, Harry Potter, and you, Miss Weasley,” he said, bowing slightly. Ginny smiled, but Harry heard her freaking out mentally: _Viktor Krum is talking to me; the best international Seeker in the world is talking to me!_ Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and Ginny resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.  
  
McGonagall clapped for their attention again, and Harry noticed that the students were filing into the Great Hall.  
  
“Once all the students have entered, the six — eight of you shall enter the Great Hall, walking in line, to the top table where the Heads of Schools are seated. After dinner is finished, you will be expected to open the dancing.”  
  
Harry scowled at this. _Great, more attention._ Ginny squeezed his hand again.  
  
The last of the students entered, and Professor McGonagall told them to follow after a minute as she went in. They waited one minute, then Fleur and her date, Roger Davies Harry thought, started to move, and the others followed. Harry tried to ignore all the staring faces and focused on Krum’s round shoulders. They reached the top table, and Harry saw Percy sitting next to Ludo Bagman. Percy tapped the empty chair beside him, and grinned at him and Ginny. Harry was reluctant, but Ginny led him to the seat beside her brother.  
  
The meal was good, but Harry found himself wishing that it would be over so he could get over having to open the dancing. Ginny squeezed his hand and reminded him that he knew more about dancing than she did, but that did not help much. She was nervous too, so her attempts to reassure him only ended in increasing her nerves, which increased his.  
  
As the plates vanished, Dumbledore rose from his seat and quiet fell over the hall. The old Headmaster smiled, and gestured to the orchestra that had set up on a stage to the left. “Music,” he began, “is truly a magic greater than we could ever create with wands. On this note,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and he chuckled a moment at his pun, “I ask the four champions and their dates to stand and open the dancing for us.”  
  
Ginny nudged Harry as the other three champions stood. Harry grumbled silently, and rose to his feet. He followed Diggory out from behind the table and to the dance floor. Harry put his hand on Ginny’s waist and held her other hand up. He inhaled, and then the music began.  
  
Step forward, step back. Step to the left, step to the right. Harry tried to remember his grandmother’s instructions as the sound of the merry waltz filled the air. One, two, three, four, she had kept saying. Harry stepped forward, Ginny stepped back. He stepped back, she stepped forward. Slowly, they rotated in a circle in time with the music.  
  
Halfway through the song, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall joined the dance. Professor Karkaroff joined next, dancing with Professor Sinestra. Madam Maxime was the last of the Heads to join, on the arm of Hagrid. Harry flashed a smile at his giant friend, who grinned back. The students began to join in, and the waltz ended.  
  
Ginny convinced Harry to dance the next song, and the next, but after the third, the floor had filled and she agreed it was getting too crowded. They found Ron, Dean, and Pavarti Patil sitting at a table in the back. Pavarti took one look at Ginny, and grabbed Dean’s arm.  
  
“Let’s go dance,” she said, dragging him off. Dean glanced at Harry and Ron, a helpless expression on his face. Ginny smirked.  
  
“No one to dance with?” Harry asked Ron. His friend shook his head.  
  
“Nah, besides, I dunno how.”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes as she sat down. “That’s only because you never listened when Dad was teaching you.”  
  
“Neither did you!”  
  
“He wasn’t teaching me, he was teaching you boys!”  
  
Ron huffed as he fell back in his seat. He eyed the dance floor with a scowl.  
  
“Who are you looking for?” Harry asked him. Ron started, his ears turned red, and he looked away quickly.  
  
“No one! What makes you think I’m looking for anyone? I’m not looking.”  
  
Ginny, again, purposely rolled her eyes, but Ron was too busy studying his cup of punch to notice. Harry smiled at the two of them. He did feel just a bit jealous that he had no siblings to bicker with the way they did, but it was easily pushed aside. Ginny linked her arm through his and dropped her head on his shoulder, letting her eyes fall shut.  
  
_You can’t be tired already!_ Harry protested mentally. Ginny smacked his hand half-heartedly.  
  
_Dancing is more difficult than you’d think,_ she thought back. _Besides, I was up early.  
  
You always are. What was it this time?  
  
Weird dreams.  
  
Those are happening more often than not,_ Harry remarked. Ginny nodded slowly. _What kind of weird?  
  
Nothing bad,_ she thought quickly. _I was just swimming again.  
  
Again? Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you that you’re part mermaid._  
  
Ginny smacked him again, but she was smiling. _Shush up.  
  
Yes, ma’am._  
  
Ron shot them an irritated look. “If you two keep acting like that, someone’s going to notice you’re reacting to stuff that isn’t happening,” he hissed  
  
Ginny simply stuck out her tongue and dropped her head back in place. Harry pulled his arm out and wrapped it around her shoulders. His fingers rested on skin bared by the dress’s off-shoulder sleeve. They began to trace patterns on her skin, smooth and warm beneath his hand. Ginny shivered slightly and grasped his other hand. Harry smiled.  
  
After a while, the crowd on the dance floor thinned and Ginny insisted on dancing again. Harry agreed, pretending to groan and moan about it, but he enjoyed the dance just as much as she did.  
  
The evening went on. Harry danced with Professor McGonagall — Ginny’s idea —, Luna, and Hermione once. Ginny got Ron to dance with her twice, though he protested the entire time. As the sky darkened further and the crowd in the Great Hall grew louder, Harry found the noise oppressive, and Ginny agreed. While Ron found himself roped into dancing with George while Fred danced with Lee Jordan, Ginny led Harry out of the hall away from the dancing and the noise.  
  
Harry gripped Ginny’s hand tightly. They snuck through the front doors and were greeted by a large garden lit by bobbing fairy lights. As far as he could see, there was no one in the garden.  
  
Ginny glanced at Harry and grinned. He grinned back, though he wasn’t exactly sure why they were grinning.  
  
_Let’s go this way,_ Ginny thought, tugging him towards a group of bushes off to the left. Harry let her lead him forwards, until they reached a stone bench. They did pass two other people in the garden, and Harry got a pretty good idea of why the garden looked deserted; everyone in it was absorbed in snogging.  
  
Ginny sat down on the bench and patted the seat beside her. Harry joined her, his heartbeat speeding up for some reason, and twiddled his thumbs a bit in awkward nervousness. Ginny linked her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. Harry glanced at her, then gently pulled his arm out and put it around her waist. Ginny inched closer.  
  
_You’re very clueless,_ she thought.  
  
_I am?_  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. She reached up and set her hand on the front of his shirt, then pressed her lips to his.  
  
Harry decided to agree with her, as long as it meant she kept kissing him. He shifted his position on the bench to pull her closer to him, his arms encircling her. Ginny’s left hand tugged on his tie, her right pressed flat against his chest. Their brains turned off mostly, with the sound of their heartbeats being the only thing they heard.  
  
At least, it was until louder voices interrupted. Harry looked around wildly, almost panicky, while Ginny continued to kiss his face along his jaw.  
  
_Someone’s coming,_ he thought. Ginny ignored him; she wrapped an arm around his neck and pressed a palm to his cheek, bringing his face back to hers. _Seriously, we should move!  
  
It’s fine,_ Ginny protested. She kissed him harder. Harry tried to remember what it was he was worried about.  
  
“You should have listened to me and left this corpse of a school long before now!” a man was saying.  
  
“They pay me better here than you would ever be willing to,” a woman scoffed in reply. “Besides, I don’t have any marks. They don’t suspect a thing.”  
  
“I have the mark,” the man growled. “And it is getting darker with every waking moment!”  
  
Harry pulled his mouth away and looked around again. This time, Ginny did too. The voices were closer than Harry would like.  
  
“How is that my problem?” snapped the woman.  
  
Harry glanced back at Ginny. Somehow, he had straddled the bench, she had moved so that sat facing him with one leg tucked beneath her, and his arms had wrapped around her waist rather than her shoulders. She was very close. He blinked quickly and jerked his gaze back up to her face. _We should move,_ he thought.  
  
_Listen!_ Ginny said, pressing a hand to his lips. That didn’t really help him think; his mouth decided to start kissing her palm.  
  
“It’s your problem because if it burns, even for a second, that would mean —”  
  
“Davies! Ten points from Ravenclaw for skulking! Get back in the castle with your date!”  
  
There was a sound like people tripping over something, then Harry spotted fairies zooming out of the way of two laughing teenagers as they exited the garden.  
  
There was silence for a minute, and Ginny lowered her hand. Immediately, Harry pressed his lips back to hers.  
  
“You should watch what you say,” said the woman’s voice. Harry pulled back; Ginny’s ragged breathing fell on his face and neck as he strained his eyes to see who was speaking.  
  
“You should too,” growled the man. Harry frowned as he focused on the voice. He knew it, but couldn’t place it. It should have been obvious. Ginny rested her face in the crook of his neck, her warm breath now falling on his collar; it felt like somehow his tie and collar had been loosened.  
  
“I want no part of this, Igor,” the woman said, her tone final. “You should let it go.”  
  
_Igor?_ Harry thought.  
  
“Let it go?” the man replied angrily. His voice had a foreign accent. Foreign man called Igor… Harry knew this, why couldn’t he place it? Ginny’s lips connected with a spot on his neck, and Harry found his attention wavering again. He lifted her chin with a finger and kissed her mouth again.  
  
“I should like to see you try to let something like this go!” the man continued, his voice rising. Harry’s heartbeat nearly failed to drown it out.  
  
“Please, keep your voice down!”  
  
“The mark is darkening, Aurora! It is completely opaque, look!”  
  
“No, don’t show me here! Someone could see, you fool!”  
  
“You are the fool to discount this information. This can only be the beginning!”  
  
Footsteps caught Harry’s attention. He broke the kiss, looking around, to see the bushes trembling as though someone was coming through them. Ginny pressed her palm to his cheek, turning his face back to kiss him again.  
  
_If they think we were listening, we could be in trouble,_ she thought. _Focus on me._  
  
Harry obliged. He tightened his grip on her waist and pressed his mouth to hers as hard as he could. Ginny slanted her mouth, wrapping her other arm around his neck again, as her lips parted and her teeth bit down on his lower lip. Harry forgot about the argument they’d been half eavesdropping on and about most everything else other than her mouth on his.  
  
“You should dock points from them as well,” said the man’s voice, now much closer.  
  
“I doubt they can hear anything other than each other’s moaning,” the woman said. The two voices were now much softer, not from distance but the owners of the voices controlling themselves. “Leave them be.”  
  
“You disrupted that last couple, why not them?”  
  
“That was because I nearly stepped on Davies. Come on, let them alone.”  
  
The footsteps retreated, and the voices faded. Harry fought to catch his breath, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Ginny didn’t seem discouraged by a lack of oxygen; she kept kissing him.  
  
_I need to breathe,_ Harry thought. Ginny sighed and withdrew her lips from his. She leaned her forehead on his, their breath mixing.  
  
_I bet Ron’s wondering where we went,_ she thought.  
  
_I don’t really care,_ Harry thought back.  
  
Ginny laughed softly. Harry reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. She caught his hand and pressed his palm to her cheek, her eyes fluttering shut.  
  
_Did you recognize either of those voices?_ Harry asked.  
  
Ginny nodded vaguely. _Karkaroff and someone else._  
  
_Karkaroff? Of course! I’m an idiot._  
  
Ginny smirked. _I think I had something to do with your decreased brain power._  
  
Harry chuckled, _Of course, you always do._  
  
Ginny pecked at his lips, then placed her head back on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and let his eyes close. He inhaled the scent of her sweet perfume.  
  
Another teacher came along a minute later and ushered them back inside the castle. Harry wouldn’t stop grinning, and Ginny held onto his arm as though for dear life because her knees were still shaky from their kissing. The second they entered the Great Hall, Ron pounced on them, wanting to know where they’d been. Ginny shook him off by saying that Hermione was coming over, then tugging Harry away when Ron turned to look over his shoulder. They danced for a while longer, most of the songs slow, until the evening ended and students were sent up to bed.  
  
Harry kissed Ginny goodnight at the door to the girls’ stairs, and kept kissing her until Ron told him that they was going to suffocate. Ginny shot her brother a glare, then stole one last kiss. Harry watched her go, a stupid grin still on his face.  
  
Christmas morning he awoke quickly, and thought as loudly as he could:  
  
_MERRY CHRISTMAS!_  
  
He heard a satisfactory gasp from her side of his mind, then Ginny swore at him.  
  
_It’s six bloody thirty!_ She thought angrily. _Why couldn’t I have slept longer?_  
  
Harry jumped out of bed and grabbed his bathrobe. _Because, if we get up before anyone else we can open our presents in the common room together without any disturbance._  
  
Ginny grumbled, but got up, gathered her gifts and donned her dressing gown without more cursing. Harry pushed his feet into slippers, pulled all his gifts into his arms, and left the dormitory as quickly as he could without dropping anything. He dumped his things onto a couch and waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
  
Ginny took more time than he did. He let her drop the gifts into a chair before pulling her into his arms and kissing her.  
  
Sometime later, Harry released her from the kiss. Ginny was breathing heavily and her expression was dazed but happy.  
  
“Are you awake now?” he asked quietly. She simply nodded. Harry grinned and pulled her onto the couch with him. Ginny curled up beside him and buried her face in his chest. Harry kissed the top of her head, then breathed in deeply.  
  
“Presents?” he said.  
  
“Right,” Ginny replied, sitting up. She grabbed her gifts from the chair and Harry lifted one from his pile.  
  
Harry opened the gifts from everyone else first. Book about counter-curses and jinxes from Hermione, Seeker’s gloves from Ron, a new sweater from Mrs. Weasley that had a dragon gracing the front, a hat and scarf set from his grandmother, a leather bomber jacket and leather gloves from Sirius, another book from Remus, this one on dark creatures, and a box of Filibuster Fireworks from Tonks. Ginny received a book from Hermione too, a Weird Sisters tee shirt from her older brothers, an emerald green sweater from her mum, a hat and scarf that matched Harry’s from his grandmother, a chocolate frog cards display book from Ron, a set of paints and brushes from Remus, more fireworks from Tonks, and a leather jacket like Harry’s from Sirius.  
  
  
At last, Ginny reached the two boxes with Harry’s gifts inside. Harry picked up the package from her, and waited for her to finish inspecting her boxes.  
  
_Together?_ He thought.  
  
“Together,” she agreed.  
  
They ripped back the paper, and Harry a simple, pine wood box beneath the wrappings. Ginny found two boxes, one larger than the other, both velvet covered jewelry boxes. Harry waited until she had lifted the lid of the first and found the earrings he’d picked out, and for her to kiss his cheek with gratitude, to open the pine box.  
  
The box had soft cushioning on the inside, and in the center of the cushioning was a small glass box, and in each surface of the glass there rested charcoal drawings. Each of them held exquisite detail, and each had been enchanted to move. The first was of the Quidditch pitch, where the Gryffindor team was grouped together, holding up the Quidditch cup in triumph. The second was of a sleeping Hedwig, her head under her wing. The owl’s chest rose and fell slightly as she breathed within the drawing. Third was a group of people; himself, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Gram, Tonks, Remus, and Sirius. There was a large cake in front of Harry and Sirius was ruffling his hair. The fourth drawing was just Harry and Ginny, the same scene that rested in her locket. The fifth was just them as well, both asleep and leaning on each other in the common room. The sixth held Harry’s parents, beaming both up at him and at the bundled up baby in Lily’s arms.  
  
“I got the photos from Colin and your gram,” Ginny said. “That last one was taken just after you were born.”  
  
Harry reverently placed the glass cube in the pine box, then grabbed his girlfriend in a tight hug. Ginny let out a squeak of surprise, then she smiled and hugged him back. Harry buried his face in her long, silky hair.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she whispered. Harry drew back and kissed her quickly.  
  
“It’s wonderful,” he said. “Thank you so much.”  
  
Ginny gently kissed his cheek. _I’m glad you like them._ Harry connected their lips again, trying to pour all his gratitude into that kiss. Ginny was grinning when they broke apart, and he was too.  
  
“You should open your other gift,” Harry said. Ginny started; she seemed to have forgotten the second box.  
  
“You do like to give me jewelry, don’t you?” she said teasingly as she picked up the second velvet box. Harry simple grinned wider and shrugged.  
  
Ginny lifted the lid and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my word!” she whispered. Slowly, she lowered her hand. “That’s not jewelry, Harry.”  
  
“I know,” he said, rather smug at his success in surprising her. “Did you think your wish would go unnoticed?”  
  
She shook her head slightly as she lifted the golden calligraphy quill from the box, and fingered the long raven feather. She touched the many jars of colored ink, then looked up at Harry with a grin.  
  
“They’re beautiful,” she said softly. “Thank you, Harry.”  
  
“The quill is goblin made, so it’ll never rust or get ink caked on it, and the tip will always be sharp,” he said. “The ink is specifically made for drawing, and they’ve got refilling and unbreakable charms on them. There’s two empty, shallow jars that you can mix inks in to make different colors, and the box is charmed so that when it’s closed, the ink won’t ever spill even if you drop it from the astronomy tower.”  
  
Ginny kissed him again to shut him up. Harry did as told, responding to her kiss eagerly.  
  
They took their gifts back to their dormitories, then scurried out of sight as the other student began to wake up. Ginny dragged him from the tower to the classroom they had been training for the first task in, and spent the rest of the morning wrapped up in each other.  
  


**HGHGHGHGHGHGHG HGHG**

  
  
Christmas morning was pleasant in the halls of Hogwarts and in the homes of the unassuming Wizards and Muggles across the world. Yet there was an unease that lay just above the happy air that was ushered in with the wrapped gifts, the many tellings of the Nativity story, and firm belief in Santa Claus. It was present even on Hogwarts soil.  
  
That unease gathered in a rundown house that was barely visible in thick, English rain. The sky seemed to have sensed the hurt and sorrow filling the little house, and was now weeping for the two souls inside it.  
  
A dark haired man sat at the bedside of a frail woman, reading aloud from an old storybook as she lay quiet. The man’s voice was even, but behind his eyes there was dread.  
  
The woman coughed, and the man faltered in his reading. She waved a trembling hand, gesturing for him to keep going, but the man set down the book and drew a wand from his cloak.  
  
“I am fine,” the woman insisted in a raspy voice.  
  
“Mother, please,” the man said. The woman shook her head.  
  
“I will not leave this world bogged down by drugs,” she said.  
  
“Mother, you’re not going to die now,” the man said, trying to smile reassuringly at his mother but the dread in his soul seeped into the smile.  
  
“Any day now,” she muttered. “Keep on reading, son.”  
  
The man hesitated, then set his wand on the table beside him and lifted the book.  
  
_“It was the last evening of the year, and it was very cold and dark,”_ he read aloud. _“Snowflakes fell thick and fast. Through the empty streets wandered a poor little girl with no hat on her head and no shoes on her feet.”_ The woman resettled herself on her pillows, and drew in a deep, rattling breath as she closed her eyes. _“When she left home that morning she had been wearing a pair of slippers, but they had been so large that she’d lost them as she’d dashed across the street to avoid a huge carriage rolling toward her. One of the slippers had disappeared, and a young boy had picked up the other and ran off with it. So the little girl was barefoot, and her feet were not blue with cold.”_ The man paused as he was reading, and glanced over the rest of the story. “Maybe I should read a different one,” he murmured.  
  
“No,” his mother said in her rough and tar-stained voice. “I like this story.”  
  
The man hesitated once again, then sighed and resumed reading. _“In her hands she carried a bundle of matches, and the pockets of her apron were stuffed with them. All day long she had tried to sell her matches, but no one had bought a single one or given her a single penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along the icy streets.”_  
  
The man’s voice continued to fill the cold bedroom, and the old woman took heart in the story. She felt rather a lot like that little lost match girl, unable to get warm or go home.  
  
_“At last, in a corner between two houses, she sank down, pulled her feet under her and huddled close to the wall. Still she could not keep off the cold.”_  
  
The old woman drew in another shallow, rattling breath.  
  
_“How much good would a single match do? thought the little match girl. Would she dare pull one from the bundle and strike it against the wall? She did. It burst into flame, and as it burned it gave off a warm, clear light like a candle. The little match girl held out her hand to the beautiful brightness.”_  
  
A very faint smile crept across the old woman’s face as she listened. The freezing child saw the best things of Christmas in the matches she lit, wrapped presents, roast goose, a Christmas tree, and most importantly, warmth.  
  
_“The lights of the Christmas tree seemed to rise higher and higher until the little girl realized she was looking at the twinkling stars in the sky. Then she saw one fall, leaving a bright trail of light behind it. Someone must be dying, thought the little girl, for her dead grandmother, who was the only person who had ever truly loved her, had once told her that whenever a star falls a soul goes to heaven.”_  
  
The old woman nodded very slowly, as her aching and inflamed bones would only allow. A falling star indeed.  
  
_“She struck another match against the wall. This time, in the center of the bright light stood her grandmother. Her face looked so gentle and loving that the little girl cried out, ‘Oh Grandmother, please take me with you. I know that when the match blows out you will go away just like the warm stove and the roast goose and the lovely Christmas tree. Please take me with you!’  
  
“The little match girl quickly lit the whole bundle of matches, for she so wanted her grandmother to stay with her. And the matches fared with a light that was brighter than the noon sun. Never had her grandmother looked so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and together, they rose far above the cold streets and the dark town to where there was no hunger and no pain, for they climbed all the way to heaven.”_  
  
The old woman let out her breath in a painful exhale. Falling stars indeed carried souls off to heaven, but if a star fell from the heavens, then where did it carry the soul that rode on it?  
  
The man did not notice his mother’s quiet thoughts. He continued to read the last paragraph of the story. _“The next morning, some people found the little match girl still sitting against the stone wall. Her cheeks were pale and her little hands were blue, but she was smiling. She’d frozen to death on the last night of the year, and in her hand was the bundle of burnt matches. ‘The poor child,’ the people said. ‘She must have tried to warm herself.’ But none of them could know what beautiful things she had seen, nor with what joy she had entered into the New Year with her grandmother.”_  
  
The man looked up from the storybook, feeling the sadness begot by the little match girl, and tried to catch his mother’s eye. She lay with her hands folded over her chest, the blankets drawn up to her chest to fight off the cold that had come from inside her.  
  
“Mother?” he said quietly.  
  
There was no answer for him.  



	20. A Mermaid's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**  
Chapter Twenty: The Goblet of Fire Part Seven  
A Mermaid’s Call  
Ginny**

  
  
  
The New Year brought more snow and the occasional hail, and classes began again on the 16th, leaving a lengthy holiday. On the 15th, Dumbledore gave an announcement at dinner that many groaned loudly at.  
  
"We have been enjoying the tutelage of Professor Moody in Potions, but Professor Snape shan't remain away for good. He will return to teaching next week, but I'm afraid that he has more work to do than anticipated since his absence, and therefore will only be able to teach fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh-year classes. Professor Moody will remain to teach first through third until Professor Snape has completed his work."  
  
_Pity he can still teach fourth,_ Harry thought with a grumble.  
  
The week was gone all too quickly. They had had their last class with Moody on Tuesday, who ended it with a verbal pop quiz on common poisons and assigning them a foot of parchment, summarizing all they had learned since Snape's sabbatical. Monday and their return to Snape's class was approaching rapidly. Friday morning, Ginny woke up in a cold sweat after what had started out as a plain nightmare, where she had forgotten everything she'd learned and Snape took one million points from Gryffindor. On Sunday, Ginny, Harry, and Ron reviewed everything they'd written down about Potions since Moody had arrived and Ginny crammed as much of the information as she could into one 18 inch roll of parchment. Harry eavesdropped as she wrote and Ron read over her shoulder. Ginny wished that she could have Hermione's assistance, but she and Ron were still giving each other the cold shoulder and Ron needed her more then.  
  
Monday morning, they filed into the Potions classroom and took their seats with nervousness. Ginny tapped the tip of her quill against a stack of parchment waiting for notes. On her left side, Ron bounced his knee and his eyes darted around the classroom. Harry, seated with his chair nearly connected to hers on the right, drummed his fingers on his leg.  
  
The door to Snape's office opened, and the greasy, bat-like professor himself entered. Ginny frowned instantly and her thoughts faltered, because he no longer fitted the description.  
  
His hair did not glimmer with oil in the low lights for one. In fact, it looked very dry. His robes were the same long black material, but they no longer billowed as he walked. He moved with his eyes on the floor and his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his robe. Where he had once walked with long, angry strides, he took shorter, calmer steps. His very skin seemed to be more pallid and subdued.  
  
Snape took the seat behind the desk and glanced at the piles of scrolls on its surface, every essay from the students.  
  
"Morning, class," the professor said.  
  
Every student's jaw dropped in astonishment. Never had Snape greeted them that way, almost civilly.  
  
"I hope you haven't gotten worse since I left," Snape continued, his tone sharpening. "I was told by Professor Moody that you've mostly been covering poisons and their antidotes. What was the very first you studied, its characteristics, and its antidote?"  
  
Ginny glanced around. Hermione's hand had already shot up, but hers was the only.  
  
Snape scanned the room, then his eyes fell on Hermione.  
  
_He'll probably pretend she's not there,_ Harry thought.  
  
"Granger," Snape said.  
  
Ginny glanced at Harry, then at Ron, who were both shocked. Hermione seemed to be surprised as well at first, but she quickly got over it and launched into the story of Cahlner's poison.  
  
Snape had them name every poison Moody had drilled them on. Hermione named quite a few, including the first five, but soon the other student started to jump in. Snape made notes in a notebook as they spoke, and stayed mostly quiet. Ginny was confused by his lack of snide remarks, how he never turned down Hermione's eagerness the way he used to. He even forgot to treat Neville with his usual horridness.  
  
That wasn't to say he was nice; in fact, to a fresh eye he seemed uncaring and harsh still, but there was no trace if the blatant favoritism that he gave the Slytherins, no sign of a sneer when a student stumbled, and he didn't give put a single insult. Neither did he compliment anyone, not even the Slytherins, but the change was drastic. Ginny was almost unsure how to react to this suddenly detached and nearly civil Snape.  
  
Snape's attitude, however, was quickly forgotten by the next morning. At breakfast, Ginny was talking, more arguing, about Quidditch with Seamus Finnegan. He was of the opinion that the Hollyhead Harpies were a weak team, and she took a great deal of offense to that. Until, she heard Hermione gasp loudly from her left.  
  
Ginny broke off telling Seamus how many times the Harpies had beaten the Wimborn Wasps -- his favorite -- to look over at her friend.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked.  
  
Hermione was a pale color now; she opened her mouth, shook her head, and held out the newspaper she'd been reading to Ginny with a look similar to nausea.  
  
Ginny frowned but scooted down the bench closer to her. She took the Prophet from her and looked down. Then she too, gasped, and swore.  
  
"What?" Seamus asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Did the Harpies lose their last game?"  
  
"No, Finnegan, they flattened the opponent," Ginny said. "How the hell did this happen?"  
  
"What?" said Seamus again, now very confused. Harry looked over her shoulder and his jaw dropped.  
  
"No!" he said. "Are you serious?"  
  
The headline on the very front page read " _Potter Fooled by Pretty Faces_ ", by Rita Skeeter. Below this caption, were four photographs, the largest a snapshot of Ginny hugging Harry outside the champions' tent the morning of the first task. The second one was of Ginny dancing with Lee Jordan, which George had conned her into doing. The third depicted Ginny with Neville, and the fourth and final photo was of Ginny dancing with Ron, but Ron's back was to the camera so all was visible was the back of his head.  
  
Beneath the photos was the article itself.  
  
_"Our favorite hero and Tri-Wizard Champion Harry Potter seems to have found love at his young age, with none other than Ginerva Weasley, the only female born in the Weasley family for about seven generations. Now, being the first girl in over one hundred years must place a great toll on Miss Ginerva to marry well and bring her family good fortune, however, I doubt any of my readers could excuse the flagrant behavior of this seemingly poor Weasley child.  
  
"Despite being attached in a relationship with our dear Harry, Ginerva has been seen flirting with many of the boys at Hogwarts, sometimes right in front of Harry! A friend of Harry's says "Ginny's a horrible flirt; she can't help but throw herself on any and every guy she comes across. Her favorites range from years below her to even one of the teachers!" Another friend, Miss Pansy Parkinson said about Miss Weasley: "I saw her last week, talking in low, secretive tones with one of the teaching assistants, and it wasn't about homework. I wouldn't believe that she would put herself out that way, especially when she's barely thirteen, but I saw it with my own two eyes!" Miss Weasley is not only notorious for her flirting, however, she's also been seen threatening other students if they were to dare speak of her unladylike activities. One such victim of her blackmail spoke out at great risk: "The girl is a nightmare; I wish I had never let her fool me into thinking she was as innocent as she claimed. If she's honestly thinking of herself as innocent, she needs to look the word up."  
  
"Clearly, Ginerva Weasley does not have Harry Potter's best interests at heart. With all the blackmail, illicit activities, and who knows what else, she's only after him for his money. If I were a close friend of Harry, I would tell him to be rid of this gold-digger straight away, before she brings even more dishonor to her family's name and his."  
  
"Yet, it seems that poor Harry is attracted to the kind of girl who would ruin him, for not only is he dating the promiscuous Ginerva Weasley, but he is very close with another gold-digging girl. Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn in the same year, seems to have attached herself to Mr. Potter since before even Ginerva. Hermione is with Harry almost constantly, but recently, at the Hogwarts Yule Ball to be exact, Miss Granger appeared to have given up on entrapping Mr. Potter and has branched out to other famous names.  
Miss Granger was seen on the arm of International Quidditch Player and fellow Tri-Wizard Champion with Harry Mr. Viktor Krum. Many of the other girls at the school recall being shocked to see Miss Granger entering the Ball with Mr. Krum, because Miss Granger is nothing like Miss Weasley in flirtation skills, nor is she as pretty. Yet she danced with Mr. Krum multiple times, and the Quidditch Star did not dance with many other girls.  
"However, there does seem to be a logical explanation to Mr. Krum's fascination with Miss Granger. Several of Hermione's fellow student's report that Miss Granger is one of the top academics at the school, and therefore would have no trouble brewing a potion such as Amortentia, the incredibly powerful love potion. Miss Parkinson says "I wouldn't put it past her [to have drugged Viktor Krum into liking her]. She's always looking for a new trick, something to put herself above the rest of us, because otherwise, she's just plain Jane. In fact, I wouldn't find it hard to believe that any of her so-called 'friends' really liked her, that she'd enchanted them into hanging out with her. Maybe she's even charming poor Harry into ignoring the fact that his girlfriend is a lying cheat." Miss Parkinson might be right, and it would certainly explain why Mr. Potter has remained with Ginerva Weasley so long. But with this expose, maybe officials can step in and prevent Miss Granger from hoodwinking Harry any longer. I can only hope that dear Harry can get out from the thumb of his oppressive and unfaithful girlfriend."_  
Ginny looked up at Harry with a horrified expression and found that he had finished the article already.  
  
"I don't even know what to say," she said in an equally horrified voice.  
  
"She spelled your name wrong! And she got your age wrong, you're older than I am!" Harry said.  
  
"Harry, this is serious! She's made really horrible accusations!"  
  
"Well, it's simple really," Harry said. "Hermione, are you giving me a love potion?"  
  
Hermione shook her head with a jerk, her hand pressed over her mouth. Ginny glanced at her, then rubbed at her shoulder with a hand.  
  
"Ginny, are you cheating on me?" Harry continued.  
  
"I'm not cheating," Ginny said. "And I don't blackmail people."  
  
"Exactly," Harry said. "Skeeter just wrote crap as usual. Remember the article she put out about the Tournament? She barely said anything about anyone but me and how often I cry over my parents."  
  
"Yes, I remember," Ginny said, glancing at the paper again. "But why would she write this? Oh, Mum is going to be so angry!"  
  
Harry patted her shoulder. "You should write her then, and tell her that this is all just slander."  
  
Ginny nodded vaguely and glanced at Hermione again. The girl still looked nauseous.  
  
"Are you all right?" she asked quietly.  
  
Hermione nodded with a jerk of her head. "Fine," she managed.  
  
Ginny put her arm around her friend and squeezed gently. "Harry's right, all that cow wrote is crap. You shouldn't dwell on it."  
  
"Speak for yourself," Hermione mumbled. "She said worse about you."  
  
"Well, it's not true," Ginny insisted. "And if I let what other people thought incapacitate me, I wouldn't have gotten past our second year."  
  
"We should find some way to get back at her," Harry said firmly. “She spelled your name wrong!”  
  
“Harry, seriously, out of all that, that’s what you’re choosing to be indignant about?” Ginny said.  
  
“It’s G-I-N-E-V-R-A, not G-I-N-E-R-V-A,” he continued. “It is a beautiful, Italian name meaning fair, as in beautiful, as in you! I take offense to this.”  
  
Ginny opened her mouth, closed it, turned pink, and slipped her hand into his.  
  
_Okay then_ , she thought. Harry smirked and shook his head, then leaned over and kissed her cheek.  
  
“Right. Hermione, you and I are going to the library this afternoon to look for any records containing the name Skeeter.”  
  
Hermione nodded vaguely. Ginny rubbed her shoulder again.  
  
“We will get back at the cow,” Harry promised, glaring down at the article. “She’s crossed the line.”  
  
_By spelling my name wrong?  
  
With that, with calling Hermione plain, with calling you promiscuous. What does that mean, though, exactly?_  
  
Ginny turned pinker. _Er, you don’t know?  
  
I haven’t had time to expand my book of insults.  
  
Er, it’s uh, it’s… Look it up in a dictionary.  
  
Why?_  
  
Ginny took out the page with Rita’s article, folded it neatly in half, then crumpled it up into a tiny ball and set it on the tabletop, where she tapped it with her wand and set fire to it. Hermione looked over and a brief, satisfied smile crossed her face.  
  
_Ginny!_ Harry reminded.  
  
_I am not thinking that to you. Look it up yourself._  
  
Harry shrugged and poured a cup of tea, which he handed across Ginny to Hermione.  
  
“Thanks, Harry,” she said quietly and took a shaky sip.  
  
After their classes, Harry led Ginny and Hermione to the library. While he went on his quest to shame Rita Skeeter, Hermione sat down at a table and began writing a Transfiguration essay, and Ginny began to look for clues about Harry’s golden egg.  
  
She had asked Harry to bring it with him and found it at the bottom of his bag. She sat with her chin resting on the edge of the table and the egg standing on the table-top before her, staring it down. The egg seemed to be split three times, and there were hinges at the bottom that made her think it opened. The latch at the top looked simple enough, but she didn’t particularly want to open it without having some knowledge first. Strange objects that could be opened sometimes had bad consequences.  
  
“What do you think it is?” she asked Hermione. Her friend glanced up from her now six inches of drying ink and cocked her head at the metal egg.  
  
“Well, obviously it holds the clue inside it,” Hermione said.  
  
“But how will we get to it?”  
  
“Open it, of course.”  
  
“I don’t want to do that just yet,” Ginny said.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I don’t know what it is. I don’t like poking things that I don’t know what they are.”  
  
Hermione nodded. “That makes sense. Then how do you propose finding out what it is?”  
  
Ginny picked up her wand and prodded the metal. Nothing happened. She thought carefully.  
  
“We could go searching the books,” Hermione suggested.  
  
“Maybe,” Ginny said.  
  
There was another store of knowledge that she had access to. But she really didn’t want to go looking through those memories just yet. Ever since having those weird dreams, she had trusted the benign nature of his memories less and less.  
  
“Could we ask Madam Pince?” Hermione asked.  
  
“We could try,” Ginny said, sitting up and looking around.  
  
Hermione set down her quill and stood up. “Come on, let’s go find her.”  
  
Ginny pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the egg, following Hermione away from their things and towards the front of the library. Madam Pince wasn’t at her desk, so they started moving through the shelves. Ginny checked Harry’s eyes to see if Pince was near him, but couldn’t see her through his eyes.  
  
“What are you looking for?”  
  
Both girls jumped and turned to see Madam Pince and her feather duster standing right behind them.  
  
“Hi!” Ginny said, startled.  
  
Madam Pince shook the duster at them, Ginny coughed at the dust coming from its feathers. “Loitering is not allowed.”  
  
“We were looking for you, actually,” Hermione said quickly. Ginny nodded, fighting the urge to wave away the dust floating up her nose.  
  
Madam Pince lowered her duster and eyed them suspiciously. “Why would you want to look for me?”  
  
_Good question,_ Ginny mentally muttered. Aloud, she said, “We were hoping you could help us with something.”  
  
Madam Pince raised an eyebrow. “What?”  
  
Ginny held out the egg. Madam Pince looked down her long nose at it, then raised her eyes slowly to meet Ginny’s.  
  
“This belongs to a Tri-Wizard Champion,” she said.  
  
“It’s Harry’s, yeah,” Ginny said.  
  
Pince narrowed her eyes. “Why do you have it, then?”  
  
“Well, we’re helping him, aren’t we?” Ginny answered.  
  
Pince thought it over, before she hooked the duster on her belt and took the egg from Ginny. She examined its surface, felt the hinges, peered at the latch, then turned to a table. She set the egg down and drew her wand.  
  
“ _Specialis Revalio_ ,” she said.  
  
Ginny looked over the librarian’s shoulder and at the egg. It didn’t look like anything had happened.  
  
“You can use that spell to help yourself,” Pince said, turning back to face the two girls. “Reference books for it can be found in section E7, case four on the third and second shelves. Other books of interest to this case can be found in section M2, the fifth and sixth cases.”  
  
With that, Madam Pince turned away, drew her feather duster, and disappeared between two shelves.  
  
Ginny looked at Hermione blankly. Hermione shrugged.  
  
“Section E, then,” she said. Ginny picked up the egg and followed Hermione.  
  
Hermione pulled down half a dozen books from case four in Section E, and Ginny picked the skinniest of them. She flicked through it, found the theory, and then tentatively reached into Tom’s memories.  
  
She found his recollections of the spell in his sixth year. Apparently, it was a difficult spell that he had hated because it had taken him so long to master. She separated the spell from the rest of his memory, then moved through his memory of getting the spell the first time. She glanced over the diagrams and explanations in the book one more time, read through the theory again, then pointed her wand at the egg.  
  
“ _Specialis Revalio_ ,” she said.  
  
Her hand tingled. Ginny glanced down at the book as a melody started playing her head, then she tried it again. Still, nothing happened.  
  
"What's it doing?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Nothing," Ginny said, now frustrated.  
  
"Let me see." Hermione slid the egg over, looked through the book, then turned her wand on the egg. She repeated the incantation, then waited. "It's music," she said, looking up. "The egg plays some kind of music.  
  
Ginny frowned. That melody was still playing in her mind. Wait, she thought. A melody. Music, a melody contained in the egg. "Oh. So… do we just open it, then?" she asked.  
  
"No, not in here. Madam Pince wouldn't be happy. We'll try it back in the common room."  
  
"What did she say about Section M2? That there were other books about this stuff?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "It's probably the music section; I've never checked that part of the library."  
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Really? I thought you had the entire library memorized."  
  
"Oh, shut it, you," Hermione said, playfully shoving her shoulder as she moved around the table towards section M.  
  
Section M was in the very back of the library on the second level. Once they found it, Hermione located the twelfth subsection and the fifth and sixth cases. As she found them, Harry mentally called that he was getting hungry and could they finish up. Ginny told him to find them and they'd discuss it.  
  
Hermione pulled a book off the fifth case and looked over it. She frowned. She turned back to the case and started examining the spines of the books.  
  
"Mermaids," she said.  
  
Ginny furrowed her brow. "Mermaids? Are you sure we've got the right section?"  
  
Hermione checked the sign on the nearest case and nodded. "Section M2, cases five and six."  
  
"The related topic to the egg is mermaids?" Ginny repeated.  
  
Her friend shrugged. "Must be. Madam Pince knows the library like the back of her hand."  
  
Ginny moved to the sixth case and looked over the titles, for something that crossed over with music. She spotted one called the Siren's Song at the very top and pulled it down.  
  
"Hey," Harry's voice came from behind her. "What are you looking at?"  
  
"Mermaids," Hermione said.  
  
Harry quirked his brow. "Mermaids? What for?"  
  
"According to Madam Pince, they are related to what's in the egg," Ginny said, looking at the table of contents in her book.  
  
Harry raised the other. "You figured it out?"  
  
"It is a music box of sorts," Hermione said.  
  
"Cool! What's the music?"  
  
"We didn't open it," Ginny answered.  
  
Harry dropped both eyebrows. "Why not?"  
  
"Because, Madam Pince would have our heads if we made noise in the library," Ginny said. She turned back to the shelf and grabbed two other books. "Let's check these out then head to dinner." Hermione took a few others and began walking away towards the front desk. Harry held out his arms and raised his eyebrows. Ginny sighed, but she handed him her pile of books. Harry smiled, then leaned over and kissed her cheek quickly.  
  
“Come on, you two,” Hermione called. “No PDA.”  
  
Both Harry and Ginny rolled their eyes.  
  
Madam Pince stamped the books then shooed them out and they headed to dinner. They ate quickly at Hermione’s urging, gathered their things, and then went back up to the tower. Ginny spotted Ron sitting in a corner playing chess against Seamus, and as usual, it looked like Ron was winning. She almost waved, then glanced at Hermione, saw her downcast eyes and decided against it. Harry picked a table surrounded by armchairs on the other side of the tower, dumped his bag, and flopped into the largest chair, pulling over an ottoman as he did. Ginny slipped the strap of her bag off her shoulder and pushed Harry off to one side of the chair so she would fit too. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and quickly kissed her temple. She smiled at him, then opened her bag.  
  
“Honestly, you two are both adorable and annoying,” Hermione sighed as she took her own chair. Ginny couldn’t help but notice her glancing over at Ron.  
  
“Okay, so, how do we open this?” Harry asked, tugging the egg out of his bag.  
  
“I think we should do some quick reading first,” Hermione said. “If that’s mermaid song in the egg, we don’t know what it will sound like.”  
  
“But we don’t know what kind of mermaid it is,” Ginny pointed out. “Mermaid song varies by region like dialect.”  
  
“True,” Hermione mused.  
  
“Hey, look, there’s a latch!” said Harry.  
  
“But we should read up on common merpeople first,” Hermione added.  
  
Ginny shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.”  
  
Hermione smiled, then pulled out a large volume from her bag. “This is an encyclopedia on mermaids, all kinds. And you got some books on mermaid song specifically?”  
  
Ginny nodded, taking out the Siren’s Song from her bag. “I think the most common kind of mermaid —”  
  
“SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”  
  
Ginny clapped her hands to her ears with a shout of surprise, dropping her book. The screech was still going, getting louder by the second. “SHEEEEERRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”  
  
“WHAT THE HELL?” Ginny shouted. She saw Harry fumbling with the egg, the screech got louder, then it cut off suddenly.  
  
Ginny lowered her hands slowly and glanced around. The silence was abruptly deafening; the entire tower stared at them with anger, shock, and a weird mix of horror with pain. Ginny turned her head to the side and met her boyfriend’s eyes. Harry looked at her sheepishly.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled.  
  
“I don’t think they heard you,” Ginny said.  
  
“Sorry,” he repeated, louder this time. Gradually, the Gryffindors looked away and returned to what they had been doing before the unexpected noise. Ginny fixed her eyes on Harry. “I’m sorry!” he said again, raising his hands to defend himself. Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and glared. He hung his head.  
  
“Did you not hear us saying we wanted to do more research before we opened that thing?” Hermione asked.  
  
Harry nodded morosely. “Sorry.”  
  
Ginny shook her head at him, but she put a hand on his cheek and gave him a quick, soft kiss. Harry looked up with a hopeful smile.  
  
“It was a mistake,” she said. “And now we know that we’re looking for a mermaid that screeches instead of sings.”  
  
Harry’s smile turned smug. Ginny heard Hermione huff in irritation. She picked up Siren’s Song and began reading.  
  
As the clock ticked on, the tower emptied bit by bit. The moon rose in the window behind them, the fire burned itself into a stupor. Ginny’s eyelids felt heavier and heavier by the minute. At half past twelve, Harry put his feet up on the ottoman, his head fell onto her shoulder and he began to snore softly. Hermione propped her face up on her fist but forgot to prop her elbow on anything and nearly fell forward onto the floor.  
  
“I think we should go to bed,” Ginny said.  
  
“Mmm… yeah,” Hermione mumbled. “Nice idea.”  
  
Ginny glanced at Harry. He snored on. She poked his nose gently. He did not react.  
  
“Do we have to carry him?” Hermione asked, her tone clearly stating her displeasure with that idea. Ginny looked down at him, unsure. Her own muddled mind did not agree with having to carry Harry, even though he was rather light and they would probably be able to. She shook her head.  
  
“You go on to bed,” Ginny told Hermione. “I’ll get him in bed.”  
  
Hermione nodded gratefully. “Just make sure you use protection,” she said as she shoved her book back into her bag. Ginny’s face heated.  
  
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” she said in a vehement whisper, but Hermione was already leaving, giggling under her breath as she darted up the stairs. Ginny grumbled a curse, then turned back to Harry. “Come on,” she muttered, poking him again. “You need to wake up.”  
  
Harry waved a hand vaguely and readjusted his position, scooting closer to her. Ginny poked him harder. “If you want to sleep you need to do it in your own bed!”  
  
“Shove off,” he mumbled. Ginny shook his shoulder. He batted away her hand, mumbling under his breath still. She grabbed his hands and trapped them against his chest while she shook his shoulder with the other hand. “Wake up! Wake up or you’re going to have to sleep in this uncomfortable chair all night.”  
  
Harry’s arm escaped and grabbed her around the waist. He tugged, and she found herself pressed against his chest.  
  
“Bugger,” she muttered. Harry kissed her cheek then rested his chin on her shoulder. Ginny narrowed her eyes.  
  
_You are awake, aren’t you?  
  
Little bit._  
  
Ginny huffed, then twisted around to face him. He opened one eye and smiled dazedly at her. She shook her head.  
  
“Get up, you buffoon,” she said.  
  
“You wound me, darling,” he said; he leaned in and kissed her quickly. Ginny put her hand between his mouth and hers and tried to scowl at him, but she actually wanted him to kiss her again so it didn’t really work. Harry laced his fingers through hers, then pulled her hand out of the way. Ginny’s resolve began to weaken, and she also didn’t feel tired anymore.  
  
Ginny pulled back. “Harry, we have to go to bed.”  
  
He stuck out his bottom lip. _Please?_  
  
Ginny shook her bed. “I’m tired, Harry.”  
  
He sighed. “Fine.” Harry pushed himself into a more proper sitting position and stretched his arms wide over his head. Ginny reached out and tenderly brushed his bangs from his eyes. Harry’s lips curled in a warm smile. Ginny leaned up and softly pressed her lips to his.  
  
“You need a haircut,” she whispered.  
  
Harry snorted. “Come on,” he grunted, slipping out of the chair. Ginny stood up and grabbed her school bag from the floor as well as Harry’s, which she handed to him. They parted with one more kiss at the bottom of the stairs, then up to their dorms for sleep.  
  
The rest of the week went by slowly. Saturday and Sunday were spent reading up on mermaids as well as homework. Ginny dozed off at least twice before Harry and Hermione banished her for a nap, which lasted a little over an hour. During dinner, Harry went to eat with Ron and Seamus while Hermione and Ginny sat at the end of the table with their roommates. Neither girl talked much, and surreptitious eye-rolls were common that night.  
  
Monday, once again, they descended into the deep darkness of school-work. First period they had Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Remus and Sirius demonstrated two new defensive hexes: the Full Body Bind, which both Hermione and Ginny could perform perfectly thanks to their first year, and the Reductor Curse. Ginny quite liked that second curse. Next, they went out onto the freezing grounds for Care of Magical Creatures, where Hagrid had for them the Blast-Ended Skrewts. One of them ruined Hermione’s gloves with its flatulence and nearly set fire to Ron’s cloak while they were trying to subdue it into a nap. Then they had a free period, which was spent in the tower reading. After lunch, Hermione and Ginny left Harry to attend Arithmency while he joined Ron for the long trek up to the North Tower. Ginny doodled absently on her paper since the teacher was doing a review, even though Hermione was scribbling down everything Professor Vector was saying. She peeked into Harry’s mind, heard Trelawney say something about dream interpretation as it related to the planets, then turned her attention back to the dragon she was drawing. The last class of the day was Charms, where Professor Flitwick thought they were ready for the Aguamenti charm.  
  
Tuesday was fairly similar: Transfiguration, Potions, Charms again, and lastly Herbology. Wednesday was drearily the same, although it rained that day. Thursday Hermione and Ginny had Arithmency again, and Professor Vector gave them very little homework while at the same time Trelawney gave Ron and Harry a boatload. After classes, the two boys sat in the middle of the room with their star charts and notebooks while Ginny sat with Hermione in a corner and worked on Arithmency. However, Ginny wasn’t particularly interested in homework.  
  
_The 18th… I think I’ll botch a potion,_ Harry thought.  
  
_We’ve ruled out sirens,_ Ginny mused, not seeing the sheet of numbers before her. _Their voices are enchanting no matter what…  
  
Next day I will be… betrayed by someone!  
  
And Selkies don’t sing anything we could understand at all. They sound more like whales than anything else.  
  
Ginny, you’re not helping._  
  
Ginny dropped her head onto her textbook. _Sorry, love. This is just a very daunting problem.  
  
Well, how about you let me finish my homework and you finish yours, and well take the egg off to some secluded corner and open it again, just to see what happens?_  
  
Ginny smirked slightly. _A secluded corner?  
  
Yeah, what’s wrong with that?  
  
We ought to bring Hermione, to be sure we get actual work done._  
  
She heard him mentally curse and pout; Ginny shook her head with a smile and turned back to her homework. Half an hour later, Hermione was done, and then five minutes later so was Ginny. Hermione took her bag and Ginny’s back upstairs and brought down the mermaid books, while Ginny checked how much Ron and Harry had left to do.  
  
“Oh, hi,” Ron said, looking up.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked.  
  
“Writing down dire predictions for our month,” Harry said, finishing his sentence with a flourish and beaming up at her. “You’re leaving me next week.”  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “I am?”  
  
“And then you’re going to hex me so badly I end up in the hospital same day,” Ron added.  
  
“Because Venus and Mars crossed in the sky,” Harry told her.  
  
Ginny shook her head. “Well, thanks for letting me know,” she said, bending down and kissing Harry’s cheek. “Are you nearly done?”  
  
“Nope!” Ron said. “We’re only halfway into the month.”  
  
Ginny sighed. “Well, as soon as you’re done, Harry.” She patted his shoulder and turned away, a smirk growing on her face because of the blush growing on his.  
  
Hermione came back a minute later and dropped the stack of books on the table they’d been using. “Right, so, there are two basic kinds of mermaids: Fresh water and Salt water. After that, the species varies by water temperature and the size of the body of water.”  
  
“We know that whatever it is, it isn’t a Siren,” Ginny said.  
  
“Correct; Sirens live mainly in warm, salt waters: the Mediterranean Sea, the Aegean, the Indian Ocean and their voices are always ethereally beautiful whether they are out of water or under it. They often use their voices to lure sailors into the water so they can drown and then eat them.”  
  
“Nice lot,” Ginny commented.  
  
“And it won’t be a Selkie either,” Hermione said. “They live only on the coasts of northern countries, always in cold salt water.”  
  
“What about fresh water?” Ginny asked. “What are the kinds that live there?”  
  
“The most common is a Naiad, which lives in warm waters,” Hermione said, opening one of the books and flipping through it. She found a picture, then showed it to Ginny. It depicted three young girls sitting on rocks in a small cove with a waterfall. “They don’t sing to humans at all except to warn them of extreme impending doom.”  
  
“That’s nice of them,” Ginny said. “Why?”  
  
“Because apparently, they enjoy seeing the humans run around in panic,” Hermione said, her eyes fixed on the book.  
  
“Oh, well then,” Ginny huffed.  
  
“Right, the next most common is just called mermaid and they live in cold waters. That kind does sing, but you can only understand what they’re saying if they’re underwater,” Hermione said.  
  
“What does it sound like if they’re above water?” Ginny asked.  
  
“It doesn’t say,” Hermione answered. “Anyway, after that is the — Ginny? Where are you going?” Ginny had turned away and was running up the stairs to the boys’ dorms by the time Hermione looked up. She ran past two startled boys in disheveled robes and skidded to a halt outside Harry’s dorm room. She turned the handle, stuck her head in with eyes half closed in case someone was in there and indecent, then darted over to Harry’s bed and threw open his trunk. She started digging through it when Hermione came up behind her.  
  
“What are you doing?” she asked, bewildered.  
  
“Looking for the egg,” Ginny replied. “Aha! Got it.” She shut the lid of the trunk and started towards the bathroom.  
  
“Hey!” came Ron’s voice from the dorm-room door. Ginny looked up to see him striding over with his arms crossed. “What are you doing up here?” Harry was behind him, looking confused.  
  
“Follow me and I’ll show you,” she said, pushing open the bathroom door. She crossed to one of the showers and pushed aside the curtain. There was, thankfully, a deep tub there. She turned on the tap and set the egg on the edge of the tub.  
  
“You’re putting into the water?” Hermione said. Then she gasped. “Of course! Fresh water mermaids in cold climates don’t make any sense unless they’re under the water!”  
  
“I am still confused,” Ron said.  
  
Ginny impatiently waited for the tub to fill; she stuck the egg inside as soon as the water was high enough, rolled up her sleeves, and flipped the latch. Harry and Ron instantly covered their ears with their hands. However, no screeches came out. Instead, soft music trickled out from beneath the water.  
  
“Well, stick your head in,” Ginny said to Harry.  
  
“Me? Why me?” her boyfriend protested.  
  
“It’s your egg,” Hermione reminded him. Harry grumbled as he knelt down before the tub and bent over, submerging his face beneath the water. Ginny waited anxiously for him to come back up. When he did, his expression was a mix of stunned and bewildered. A common expression for him to make, actually.  
  
“Well?” she asked.  
  
“I can’t sing it,” he said. “Er, come and seek us, hang on.”  
  
Ginny, wanting to hear it herself, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and copied Harry, sticking her face beneath the surface of the water. Eerie music came from the egg, then words began playing. _“Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground, and while you're searching, ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely miss, an hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took. But past an hour — the prospect's black. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.”_ She waited, listening to it again, then withdrew her head, dripping and spluttering for air. Harry came back up as well, and raised his eyebrows.  
  
“It’s a riddle,” Ginny said, looking around for a towel. Hermione guessed what she wanted and summoned one for her and another for Harry. She said a thanks then dried off her face and wrapped it around her hair.  
  
“What does it say?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Come seek us where our voices sound,” Harry began. “We cannot sing above the ground…”  
  
“While you’re searching, ponder this, we’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,” Ginny continued. “an hour-long you have to look?”  
  
“An hour long you’ll have to look,” Harry corrected, “to recover what we took. But past the hour —”  
  
“Past an hour,” Ginny corrected him now, “the prospect’s black, too late it’s gone.”  
  
“It won’t come back,” they finished together.  
  
They were quiet a moment, then “Spooky,” Ron said. Hermione glanced at him for the first time, and her face went suddenly pink. Ron seemed to notice her only then as well, and he took looked embarrassed. Ginny chose to ignore them for the moment.  
  
“What does it mean?” she said.  
  
“Well, obviously ‘we cannot sing above the ground’ refers to mermaids who live in cold, fresh waters,” Hermione launched into an analysis. “Though we established that already. I think that it means that the second task will consist of something of Harry’s being taken and hid in the Black Lake.”  
  
“The Black Lake?” Harry repeated.  
  
“Well, it’s a rational assumption,” Hermione answered. “It’s cold, it’s fresh water, and the last task was on the grounds as well.”  
  
Harry nodded seemingly wisely, though Ginny knew it was only because he was taking her word for it.  
  
“So that’s the first part de-riddled,” Ginny said. “Where they are and that they’ve taken something, but what will it be?”  
  
“Something I’ll sorely miss,” Harry said. He looked at her. “What’s something I’d really miss if it was taken?”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Can’t you figure that out by yourself?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but if you do it that makes it objective.”  
  
Ginny paused. That actually made sense. “All right. I suppose you’d really miss your broom.”  
  
“Or you wand,” Ron added.  
  
“No, they wouldn’t take that,” Hermione said. “It would have to be something very dear to Harry and also something very hard to replace.”  
  
“Well, I’m kind of rich so there’s not much I own that can’t be replaced,” Harry pointed out.  
  
“The Invisibility Cloak?” Ginny suggested.  
  
“Or something you were given as a baby by your parents?” added Hermione. “Or by Ginny?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “I don’t have much from my parents, but something from Ginny might be it. The glass cube of drawings maybe?”  
  
“I hope not,” Ginny said. “I may have charmed that thing not to break, but I didn’t do anything about it being waterproof.”  
  
“It would probably be a bit bigger than that,” Hermione speculated.  
  
There was a sudden rumbling. All eyes turned to Ron, who went pink. “Er, it’s dinnertime,” he said.  
  
Dinner that night, Ron left them by themselves, and Hermione very pink, to eat with Seamus and Dean. Harry, Ginny, and Hermione sat at one end, eating and discussing the mermaid’s riddle. After they finished, it was actually fairly late and they were all quite tired so they went straight to bed. Or rather, Hermione and Ginny went to bed. Harry stayed up and played chess with Ron again.  
  
That night, Ginny found herself submerged in water again. Her night shirt had been replaced with a flowing gown that was held in an enchanting way by the water and her hair was spread out behind her. She could breathe, which had become normal in her watery dreams lately. Only the very first dream had she found herself unable to breathe. Ginny fingered the material, wondering why her dreams would put her in something she would never ever wear in real life. Letting go of it, she turned her gaze up and examined her surroundings. There was a statue behind her, and what looked like a sunken ship. Behind it were several other sunken structures, like tiny houses. There was no sign of life around her.  
  
Ginny moved her hands through the water to propel herself forward. She drifted forward a few inches, then was stopped by something. She turned back, and found a rope tied to her ankle. Ginny raised her leg to try and untie it, but her leg didn’t move. She couldn’t move anymore; she was suddenly frozen. Her body drifted upward, then hung in the water unmovingly. Her mind, however, didn’t seem to want to stay still. She blinked, and she was suddenly far away from her body, moving quickly through bunches of seaweed. Hands extended into her view, hands that were webbed and not belonging to her.  
  
She was moving faster than any human should have been able to. Soon, she found herself out of the weeds and before a sunken ship. Behind it, she could see herself, suspended in the water with her hair and gown spread. Whatever held her eyes now paused, then darted around the ship and towards her body. A webbed hand reached up and slowly it pressed itself to Ginny’s face. Again, her mind moved and she was back in her own body, and it was Harry whose hand was pressed against her cheek. Ginny could move again, she opened her mouth to draw breath, and suddenly water filled her mouth. She began to choke; water was all she inhaled. Harry seemed startled; he hesitated, then he pressed his mouth over hers and exhaled. Ginny swallowed what water was in her mouth, and Harry exhaled again. This had happened to her before, in her first underwater dream, Harry had breathed for her. Then the water was gone, and so was Harry. She was perfectly dry, lying in her bed, but she was still dreaming. The room was smaller than she remembered, the canopy of the bed hung lower than it should have, and the air felt somehow thinner. Her lungs struggled to inhale as if she was still beneath the lake. Her eyes darted around, trying to find a source, but all she saw were the shadows. The shadows that seemed to move.  
  
She blinked and flames leaped beneath her eyelids. She opened them and the shadows were closer. She drew the blankets closer to her chin, sucking in the thin air and feeling like a child again, afraid of the monsters beneath her bed. There was a sudden voice whispering from the shadows, speaking too softly to understand, but her mind could hear enough to see that the words were not friendly, and yet it tried to fill in the gaps anyway. Her mind recognized the voice even if it couldn’t recognize the words. She shut her eyes tightly, pulling the blanket over her very head. Blood dripped before her eyes, the whispers grew louder, and hissing came from beneath her. Slick, cold scales pressed against her skin; her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream.  
  
And then the dream was gone. She could breathe, she heard no voices, and sunlight was filtering through her curtains. Her alarm was beeping loudly, its shrill voice vibrating her head annoyingly. She closed her eyes and saw only a faint orange color made by the light.  
  
Ginny sat up slowly and pushed aside her curtain. She looked around and saw that the room was completely empty, or at least no one was out of bed. The sun wasn’t visible in the window, but it filled the room with light. Ginny reached over and turned off the alarm, and the sudden silence pressed on her ears. Ginny pulled her legs out from beneath the blankets but hesitated. She glanced around, then leaned down and peered underneath the bed.  
  
Nothing was there.  
  
Feeling rather silly, she straightened up and slipped off the bed. Of course, there was nothing there, monsters weren’t real. Well, technically they were but they couldn’t get into the castle. Ginny glanced at her calender and grimaced. The second task was in three weeks, but then again they had part of the egg’s riddle solved. She went into the bathroom to get a shower, deciding that she wouldn’t let it bother until classes were done.  
  
Said classes, in fact, made her progressively more exhausted. They had reviews that day, for Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. Harry fell asleep in the middle of Charms, which earned him a detention from the normally amicable Flitwick after school. When Ginny and Hermione took their bags up to their dorm, both of them collapsed on Hermione’s bed and fell asleep. Ginny woke up some time later to find that she had flung out both arms in her sleep and Hermione was curled up next to her with her head on Ginny’s arm, snoring faintly. Ginny scratched her scalp, rubbed her eyes and stared up at the canopy.  
  
_Oi,_ she thought.  
  
_I fricking hate Seamus and his stupid need to chew gum nonstop and stick it under his desk…  
  
How much was there?  
  
Flitwick told me that the last time someone cleaned these desks was three years ago._  
  
Ginny chuckled softly, thinking: _So there are three years of Seamus’ slobbery chewing gum under his desk?  
  
Yes!_  
  
Shaking her head, she closed her eyes again as Hermione shifted, rolling over to press her back into the curve of Ginny’s side. Her bushy hair was crimped so that it peaked above her ears, reminding Ginny of a cat.  
  
_Lucky,_ Harry thought contemptuously.  
  
_What, I waited to nap until after class?  
  
Stupid Seamus…_  
  
Ginny left Harry to his scrubbing and extracted her arm from beneath her friend, swapping it for a pillow. Hermione mumbled something unintelligible and slept on. Ginny moved to her bed and pulled out her Transfiguration homework, thinking she could get some work done until Harry finished his detention. She turned to the chapter on changing inanimate objects into animals and other non-sentient, non-magical creatures and began reading. Her eyes glazed over several times, but she persisted. Eventually, Flitwick released Harry and it was dinner time anyway, so he headed for the Great Hall and Ginny woke Hermione.  
  
After dinner, Harry and Ginny went to the library. Hermione declined to come, saying she would do her homework in their dormitory. Ginny did bring her homework, but made the mistake of sitting directly next to Harry. He got distracted from his work by her hair, and began playing with it. Then he was, or so he claimed, distracted by her neck, and it went downhill from there. However, Ginny did not mind in the slightest.  
  
They, unfortunately, were forced to flee the library at eight o’clock when Madam Pince came around wagging her feather duster at them. She was not pleased to see them intent on each other rather than the books. Harry and Ginny walked back to Gryffindor tower, hand in hand, bad-mouthing Madam Pince for no other reason than they had been greatly upset at having to stop kissing. They entered the common room and did manage to finish at least half the work that was due Monday before abandoning school and getting into a game of Exploding Snap.  
  
Saturday was spent being lazy. Sunday they scrambled to finish their homework before classes the next morning. Monday morning began early because Professor Sprout wanted the fourth years to study a species of crawling vine that was active only in the hours just before dawn. Ginny almost fell asleep at breakfast later. Lucky for her, the next class was Potions where Snape took fifteen points from Gryffindor when Ron yawned. At that, Ginny pretended that the scarab beetles she was crushing were miniature versions of the Potions Master. She wished he would settle his emotions, rather than fluctuating between highly irritable and expressionless. Preferably expressionless.  
  
The rest of the day proceeded without incident, and so ended another school day. Then began another, which was not inherently different than the last. And then another, again not changing much. Soon, the week was gone and Ginny had piles of homework without much sleep. Friday evening she spent in the library writing every essay that was due the next week and finishing every project she could to avoid Hermione nagging her when she refused to get out of bed until noon the next morning.  



	21. Lake-Water Is My Favorite Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Goblet of Fire Part Eight  
Lake-Water Is My Favorite Poison  
Harry**

  
  
  
As each day ended, Harry crossed it off on a calender over his bed. February 24th was circled and the words ‘second task’ were written in the circle in Ginny’s handwriting. He was grateful she had circled it, but the fact that there were only a few days left between him and the next task he wasn’t as grateful for.  
  
Technically, there were ten days left, and while that was not much comfort it felt a lot closer. He still had no clue what he would need to find, and how. Hermione had said that ‘come seek us where our voices sound’ meant that the task would be beneath the lake, and ‘an hour long you’ll have to look’ meant exactly what it said. Later, he had realized that it wasn’t very likely that the thing he needed to find would be floating at the top of the lake, but it would be on the bottom. That had not been the least comforting.  
  
 _How the hell am I going to breathe?_ He mused one afternoon, gazing absently at a star chart. Beside him, Ginny shrugged, scratched out a name on the chart, and wrote the correct one beneath it. Harry huffed; he crossed his arms on the desk and lay down his head.  
 _It’s a giant lake,_ he thought, looking up at his girlfriend. _Probably miles deep. I can’t just pop up to the surface every few seconds to breathe.  
  
How about when we finish here, we go to the library and look for solutions?_ Ginny thought as she labeled the last of Saturn’s moons. Harry nodded vaguely, then reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Ginny glanced at him with a small smile, then went back to labelling the chart. Harry ran the back of his knuckles down her hair, watching the light dance off the strands and turn them gold. Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as she smiled. He pushed his fingers amidst the silky strands and brushed through her hair. Ginny looked down at him, her expression warm.  
  
 _What are you doing?_ She thought.  
  
He shrugged. _It’s just so pretty._  
  
Ginny blushed, and turned back to the chart. Harry continued combing his fingers through her hair, enjoying the feel of it between his fingers.  
  
 _You’re beautiful,_ he thought.  
  
Ginny’s eyes jumped off the page. Her already pink cheeks turned magenta. _Huh?  
  
You’re beautiful,_ he thought. _I’ve said that before.  
  
Not — not randomly,_ she sputtered mentally, looking at him with wide eyes. _I mean, I’m not dressed up, my hair’s a mess, I’m not wearing make-up, I’ve got on your old tee-shirt —_  
  
Harry sat up and kissed her. She stopped thinking. When he pulled back, she was smiling again.  
  
“You don’t need that stuff,” he murmured.  
  
Her blush became, if possible, deeper. “I — um…”  
  
He pressed his lips to her cheek. _You’ve never liked that stuff, why do you think you need it?_  
  
Ginny didn’t say or think anything, but simply shrugged. Harry knit his eyebrows. _What’s the matter?  
  
Nothing, nothing, I just never thought — I mean, I’m really kind of plain —  
  
No you’re not,_ Harry interrupted, _why would you think that? You’re extraordinary, amazing, brilliant; why would you think that you’re plain?_  
  
Ginny looked down at the star chart. _I — I don’t know._  
  
Harry kissed her again. _You’re beautiful._  
  
She smiled again, still very pink. _Thank you, Harry._  
  
He beamed at her. Ginny, smiling shyly, looked down at the nearly-complete star chart. Harry grabbed a quill and pulled the chart towards him. He found Venus, the crossed out the name.  
  
“What are you doing?” Ginny asked.  
  
“Venus was the Roman goddess of beauty,” he said, carefully writing out the new name. “There!”  
  
He pushed it back towards her. She raised her eyebrows, then laughed. He had re-named the planet Ginevra.  
  
“Thank you, Harry,” she said again, pecking him on the cheek. He grinned wider.  
  
“Hey, guys,” Hermione said, dropping into a chair across the table. Both of them looked up with equally pink expressions. She immediately scowled. “You two were supposed to be doing homework,” she said, her tone indicating an impending lecture.  
  
“My fault,” Harry said, trying to head her off. “I got distracted.”  
  
Hermione pursed her lips. “Boys,” she muttered, dropping her armload of books onto the table.  
  
Ginny merely giggled, as she wrote Venus and put her name in parenthesis. Harry lay his arms on the table again and stared at his beautiful girlfriend. Ginny heard him, and blushed again.  
  
Ten minutes later, she had finished the chart and they had started towards the library. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked, and Ginny was still slightly pink.  
  
When they reached the library, they found Madam Pince at the front desk furiously stamping books. A very small third year girl stood before her, looking at her feet in slight embarrassment.  
  
“I should place a limit on how many you can check out at a time, Collingwood,” Pince said as she set a book on the stack of stamped books and took another.  
  
“You already did!” Collingwood protested. “No more than twenty!”  
  
“Well, next time you come, no more than ten!” Madam Pince snapped.  
  
Ginny gave the third year a faint smile of pity and pulled Harry towards the back of the library. Collingwood waved sorrowfully at them as Madam Pince stamped the next book with a loud thud.  
  
“So where should we start?” Harry asked.  
  
Ginny peered sideways at the titles. “I have no idea.”  
  
Harry huffed. “We should have brought Hermione.”  
  
Ginny nodded with a sigh. “We’ll have to ask someone.”  
  
Harry scowled. “I’m not speaking to Pince,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He was still miffed about last week when she interrupted the two of them snogging. Ginny rolled her eyes, reminding him mentally that the library had been about to close anyway, and looked around for anything to indicate where spells that allowed a person to breathe underwater were.  
  
The third year girl who Madam Pince had been irritated with walked past them with her stack of books tall enough to cover half her face. Ginny glanced at her, then at Harry. He shrugged.  
  
 _She’s probably as knowledgeable as Hermione about the library, considering what Madam Pince said,_ he thought.  
  
“Hey, Collingwood!” Ginny called after the third year. The third year jumped and the books on the very top of her stack toppled off to the floor. Ginny stepped forward and picked them up.  
  
“H— hi,” the girl stammered. “Erm…”  
  
“We were wondering if you knew where spells about breathing underwater would be,” Ginny said.  
  
The girl’s eyelids blinked rapidly behind a pair of glasses in plastic blue frames. “Oh, um, magic concerning underwater life is over there in section B,” she pointed towards the beginning of the library, “there’s charms about air in section C4,” she pointed up to the second level, “and creatures and plants that provide alternate methods of breathing three cases that way,” she pointed right. Her voice had a funny ring to it, Harry thought, other than her obvious nervousness.  
  
“Oh, okay, thanks,” Ginny said, setting the books Collingwood had dropped on her stack. “See you.”  
  
Collingwood nodded vaguely, her eyes still very wide, expressing that she doubted they would ever speak to her again and that she was still shocked that they had. Harry waved to her as Ginny led him to the right, towards magic concerning underwater life, as the skittish third year had put it.  
  
Ginny examined the titles and selected a few. Harry glanced around and grabbed one at random. He glanced at the back cover, then put it back and grabbed a different one.  
  
“We want something that is easy to get,” Ginny said, cracking open one of the books. Harry nodded in affirmation. “But not something that will have any adverse effects.”  
  
“Right,” Harry said.  
  
They spent the next two or so hours searching the books without luck. At seven o’clock, they checked out stacks of books and dumped them in Harry’s dorm before going back down for dinner. After dinner they returned to the common room and got both the books and Hermione. When the clock struck ten, Hermione insisted going to bed. They had an early Herbology lesson again, more studies of that vine Sprout so loved. Next day, with eight days left, Harry returned the unhelpful books to the library with Ron and checked out ten more during their free period while Ginny and Hermione went to Arithmency. After classes, the four of them joined at a table in the back of the library, Ron and Hermione awkwardly avoiding each other’s gazes, and set to work. Unfortunately, they had just as much luck as the day before. Meaning none. The next day was almost the same, as was the next. Saturday Harry overslept and barely made it to lunch before hitting the books. He was beginning to panic. The task was Thursday, and he still had no clue how he was going to breathe or what he was supposed to find. Sunday they tried the mermaid section again to see if there was anything there. There was not. Monday Harry considered asking Madam Pince, and Hermione did, but the vulture of a librarian said she could not assist him. Harry thought that was really quite annoying because she helped Ginny and Hermione just a few weeks ago. Tuesday, Ginny and Ron got themselves two days of detention from Snape after Ron made their cauldron explode, and still no method of breathing underwater. Harry tried asking Flitwick, who apologetically said he could not help and to tell Ginny not to try. Sirius came by after dinner and told them that there was a spell he’d learned in sixth year, the Bubble Head charm, that could work but when Hermione looked it up the difficulty was far beyond Harry. Ludo Bagman stopped by to wish Harry luck. On Wednesday, Harry really was panicking.  
  
“It’s hopeless!” he cried, letting his head fall onto the table with a thud. “I’ll just have to fail or drown.”  
  
“You’re not drowning,” Ginny said determinedly. “We will find something.”  
  
“We’ve been through every book,” Harry grumbled.  
  
“Not every book,” Hermione corrected.  
  
“Just most of them,” Ron added. Harry did not smile.  
  
“We have 16 hours left,” he said. “And no spell. I still don’t know what the hell I’m trying to find!”  
  
Hermione passed him a thin paperback book. “Here, this is a detection spell. I asked Mr. Bagman if they would tell who exactly what you were looking for before the task, and he said that they probably wouldn’t but that he would be willing to let you know given your circumstances.”  
  
Harry nodded sharply. “Great. How’s that spell work?”  
  
“It’s very simple,” Hermione told him. “We’ll keep looking for a way to help you breath, you read this and familiarize yourself with it. It’s very similar to the Summoning charm.”  
  
Harry picked up the book and opened it. Ginny touched his shoulder and thought: _We will find something._ He nodded again.  
  
Two hours later, they packed up temporarily to go to dinner. Harry had gotten half-way through the book on the detection spell and was mumbling the incantation under his breath when Ludo Bagman walked up to them.  
  
“Hullo, Harry, Miss Weasley,” Mr. Bagman said genially. Ginny smiled tightly and slipped her arm through Harry’s.  
  
“Hi,” Harry replied. Mr. Bagman smiled at Ron and bowed to Hermione, then turned back to Harry.  
  
“How are you coming with the task?” Bagman asked.  
  
Harry shrugged. “Getting there.”  
  
“Ah, well, the task is tomorrow morning,” Bagman said, flashing his yellowed teeth. “I do hope you’re close.”  
  
“Very close,” Ginny said. “We just paused to get some dinner.”  
  
“Ah, very good,” Bagman clapped his hands together with an even wider smile. “Well, just let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.” He winked at Harry and stepped away, touching Ginny’s shoulder as he passed her. Ginny shrunk back from him and laid her head on Harry’s shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she just shrugged.  
  
“Come on, I’m starving and Snape said we’ve got to show up by seven,” Ron said, striding into the great hall. Hermione rolled her eyes as she followed him.  
  
Harry loaded up his plate with potatoes and chicken; Ginny added green beans and carrots before he could fill the empty space with gravy. He scowled at her playfully and she smirked. Rolling his eyes, he speared a carrot on his fork.  
  
“You two,” Hermione muttered at them.  
  
“Who, us?” Harry said.  
  
Ginny stuck out her tongue at her friend. Hermione rolled her eyes again, then grabbed a spoon from Ron before he could take a fourth scoop of stew.  
  
Choosing to ignore his friends beginning to argue again, Harry tucked into his dinner. When they finished ten minutes later, he asked Hermione what she knew so far. She opened her mouth and launched into an extensive recap. Halfway through, Professor McGonagall walked up behind them.  
  
“Miss Weasley, Miss Granger?” the teacher said. “I need you too to come with me for a moment.”  
  
Hermione nodded and hastily swallowed her last bit of stew. Ginny glanced at McGonagall with a frown. “May I ask why, professor?”  
  
“It’s nothing, I just have to talk with you,” McGonagall answered. Harry wondered why her gaze trailed on the ground, and her expression seemed to fighting something grim. “I shan’t keep you long.”  
  
Ginny sighed and pushed back her plate. “Okay, we’re coming. Harry, finish quickly and go back to the library. I’m sure that spell is just in the next book.”  
  
“Right,” he said without much confidence. Ginny kissed his cheek and stood up. Hermione was already standing, and the two of them followed Professor McGonagall out of the hall.  
  
Ron shoveled a mouth full of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Wha ew ‘ecko’ de wants?” he mumbled around the potatoes. Harry, used to Ron’s habit of speaking with his mouth full, simply shrugged.  
  
“I’ve got no clue,” he said.  
  
Ron glanced at his watch and let out a garbled curse. He swallowed rapidly and shot to his feet. “It’s almost seven,” he said after swallowing. “I’d better go, before Snape decides to poison me. See you, Harry, best of luck!”  
  
Ron grabbed his bag and took off towards the dungeons. Harry sighed and pushed aside his plate. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He felt more like he’d eaten a bundle of worms rather than chicken, potatoes and vegetables. He draped his school bag over his shoulder and started back towards the library.  
  
He sat down and began reading again. He figured the detection spell was easy enough, so he got back to trying to find a way to breathe. Not long after he sat down, Ginny told him mentally that she would be running to Snape’s office the minute McGonagall was done with her and that her detention lasted until ten. He acknowledged her with a grunt and kept reading.  
  
At eight o’clock, Madam Pince came round with her feather duster to kick him out. She wouldn’t let him check any of the books out, saying that he had exceeded his limit, but he figured she was just being irritable as normal. Being that he still hadn’t found anything, he ran back up to the tower and swapped his school bag for his invisibility cloak. He snuck back inside as Madam Pince was closing up and moved swiftly and silently back to his table. At nine, he had no update from Ginny but her detention wasn’t finished yet, so he kept reading fervently. Around ten, he was rather frantic and tossed aside another book. Ginny was probably being kept late by Snape, he figured. He glanced at his watch every few minutes and began to worry around eleven. She would have told him if she was going to be really late. Despite his panic about the task and worry over Ginny, he began nodding off around 11:30, and sometime around twelve he closed his eyes for just a moment until something started poking him in the shoulder.  
  
“No,” he muttered. “I’m reading, I’m reading.”  
  
“Harry Potter must be getting up, sir!”  
  
“I am reading, Hermione, leave me alone!” he grumbled, trying to bat her away.  
  
“I is not Miss Granger, sir.”  
  
Harry cracked open one eye and peered around. The library was much brighter than it had been a few seconds ago. He found the source of the noise and the poking, about two inches from his face.  
  
“Dobby!” he said, sitting up. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I is working at Hogwarts, now sir,” Dobby told him. “But there is being no time for that, Harry Potter must be going to the lake! Harry Potter must be going to save his most precious!”  
  
“What?” he said.  
  
“The second task, sir!”  
  
Harry shook his head. “No, no the task doesn’t start until ten.”  
  
“It is ten til, sir!”  
  
Harry’s heart skipped beat. “What?”  
  
“It is being ten minutes until ten o’clock,” Dobby squeaked. “Harry Potter must be going now to go save his most precious! Here, Dobby is taking something for you.”  
  
Harry, completely flabbergasted, took the squishy green glob that the elf pushed into his face. “What? What’s this; what am I going to save?”  
  
“This is being gillyweed, sir,” Dobby said. “Dobby is hearing Master Moody and Madam Sinister discussing it last night, and Dobby is hearing Mr. Bagman telling someone on the Floo that Harry Potter isn’t ready for the task yet, so Dobby is stealing this from Madam Sprout to help Harry Potter!”  
  
Harry glanced down at the green glob. “What do I do with it?”  
  
“You must be swallowing it, sir, so you can be breathing water,” Dobby said. “Now, come! You must be running!”  
  
Harry stood up, his knees popped and he felt his lungs tighten. “It’s nine fifty,” he muttered, looking down at his watch. He swore, very, very loudly. “Dobby, what did you say I was going to save? My most what?”  
  
“Your most precious, sir!”  
  
“You’ve said that to me before,” Harry said, suddenly recalling the night two years ago when the elf put him in the hospital wing. “What is my most precious?”  
  
“The thing you’ll miss most, sir, they that you love most!”  
  
Harry gaped at the elf. “What does that mean, though?”  
  
“You must be going, sir, it is nine fifty-three!”  
  
“What is my most precious!”  
  
“Miss Wheezy, sir!” Dobby said, almost exasperated.  
  
Harry’s stomach dropped. “Ginny?” _Ginny? Ginny!_  
  
Her voice was silent.  
  
Harry took off, not paying attention to what Dobby was shouting after him. He sprinted from the library, jumped down half the stairs, and bolted from the Entrance Hall. He ran out onto the grounds and spotted the crowd at the edge of the lake. Harry put in a burst of speed, clutching the ball of green weeds in his closed fist.  
  
Harry skidded to a halt in front of the judges table as a clock on it struck nine fifty five.  
  
“Harry, my boy!” Bagman cried, sounding very relieved. “We were worried that you wouldn’t make it.”  
  
He nodded vaguely, leaning on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. Bagman clapped him on the shoulder and pushed him towards the waters’ edge where Cedric, Krum and Fleur were standing.  
  
“Know what you’re going to get?” Bagman asked in a whisper. Harry nodded, his jaw clenched. Bagman patted his shoulder again and turned away.  
  
He was barely listening as Bagman announced the rules of the task. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he inhaled and exhaled sharply. He heard a loud blast, and saw Cedric, Krum and Fleur run into the lake. Harry started forward, then paused to rip off his shoes and socks. He discarded his over-robe as well, leaving him wearing trousers and his white uniform shirt. The water was bitterly cold, but his chest felt colder. He waded in until his hips, then raised the glob of slime to his lips. He threw it back, swallowed despite the nauseating feel of it, and waited.  
  
He suddenly could not breathe. Not that it had been easy before, but he literally felt like something had shut off his airways. He gasped for a moment, then his brain screamed instinct at him and he dived.  
  
Water filled his mouth and he felt his body begin to process the oxygen in it. He touched his mouth, then his nose, then his neck to see how he was breathing and found there were ridged slits in his neck. Gills. Then he noticed that his hands were webbed and his feet had elongated into flippers. Harry blinked and his eyes felt perfectly normal. He began to swim.  
  
He had no idea where Ginny would be, but near the bottom made sense, so he swam down and forward, towards the center of the lake. The water got colder, but he ignored it. He kicked his legs furiously, propelling himself rapidly through the water. He didn’t see either of the other champions, nor did he care. A tentacle drifted past him and then the giant squid floated in front of him, but he simply swam under it. He had to go forward, towards the darker water.  
  
Eventually, he reached the bottom and looked up. The surface far above him looked faint, but that did not matter just then. He looked around, and took off to the right. He had no idea where he was going, but somehow he knew Ginny was in that direction.  
  
He swam around sunken statues and strands of kelp. His flipper feet propelled him forward much faster than what was normal and his brain focused on only one thing: Ginny.  
  
 _Where are you?_ He thought.  
  
Harry closed his eyes, carefully treading the water to remain still, and focused. Ginny was close, only a few minutes swim from him, and towards the middle of the lake. He opened his eyes and looked around. Where was the middle of the lake? As he had been treading water, he had turned around several times and he couldn’t remember what direction he had come from. He tried to run his hands through his hair in frustration but found that the webbing between his fingers didn’t allow for him to comb his hair.  
  
“Ginny!” He shouted, but the word dissipated in a bubble of air.  
  
Harry turned his face upward. He scanned the far distant surface of the lake and found a spot of light to his left. He glanced at his watch and found it frozen at 10:02. How long had he been under the water? It couldn’t have been more than half an hour, so it was sometime around 10:30. That meant that the giant spot of light was to the east. He swam upwards a ways, looking for the mountain chain that ringed the lake. The mountains were behind him. They had been directly in front of him when he went into the water, so he had gotten turned around somehow. Now, facing the mountains, he found the sun behind him to the right. He needed to go southwest.  
  
Harry kicked off towards the southwest. An instinct inside him told him to go right, so he curved in that direction.  
  
“An hour long you’ll have to look….”  
  
Harry paused. That was mersong. He didn’t know how he knew, but he knew it was mersong and he knew it was coming from the south.  
  
“And to recover what we took…”  
  
Harry swam faster.  
  
“Your time’s half gone, so tarry not. Lest what you seek stays here to rot.”  
  
Harry kicked his legs violently. He tore through patches of kelp; a grindylow shot out of one particularly thick bundle of the algae, looked at him, and shot back out of sight. Harry ignored it completely. His heart was pounding in his chest.  
  
 _Where are you?_ He thought more forcefully.  
  
He darted around a strand of kelp and stopped. Just ahead of him was a clearing in the underwater vegetation. There were little stone huts with what looked like gardens in front, roads lined with small pebbles, sunken objects and statues covered in algal slime from the world above. And amongst these things were the merpeople.  
  
They looked nothing like they did in storybooks. For one thing, they weren’t pretty. For another, they were ugly. Their skin was gray and clung to their skeletons, their hair looked just like the kelp they’d been swimming in, and their teeth were sharply pointed and stained yellow. All of the adults were carrying tridents and were watching Harry with narrow, yellow eyes.  
  
Harry hesitantly moved forward. He searched the little village and found a large statue near what was probably the center. Near the statue was a splotch of bright red.  
  
Harry shot forward. A merman jumped out of his way as he cut through the water. He vaguely registered the mermaid singing her warnings to the champions as Ginny came into view. There was an algae bound rope tying her to the statue, along with two other girls; the Asian Ravenclaw, Cho Chang and a small girl with silvery blonde hair. Maybe she was Fleur’s sister. All three girls were dressed in white robes and their bodies were limp, asleep.  
  
Harry entered the town center and passed the mermaid. He could sense Ginny’s sleep, but at the same time her mind was anxious.  
  
He didn’t know why, until he reached out to touch her and her eyes opened. She gasped, coughed, and began to choke.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHG HGHG**

  
  
Mid-morning was his least favorite time of day. Mid-morning, the sun leeched through the grimy windows and illuminated the cold tile floor, the desk strewn with papers and the thin mattress that served as his bed. Mid-morning he would open his eyes and remember every other morning before the incident, when she would wake him up in whatever way she thought would be most ridiculous or embarrassing for him, though why she kept trying when they were married confused him. And then he would remember that last morning when she’d woken him up with breakfast and roses and they’d forgotten all about the food to focus on each other. After remembering that with a sad smile, he would remember what had happened mid-afternoon that day, and then the rest of the present day was ruined, not that they ever had good prospects.  
  
How long had it been then? Ten years? Twenty? He didn’t even know what year it was then, so how could he tell. He had tried counting days but there had been so many, so many long, tiresome days that he’d forgotten. In the beginning, he could see her and hear her voice in the cell across from him, and when they stretched enough they could touch the tips of their fingers together. She couldn’t see him, however. She couldn’t see anything anymore.  
  
Now there was only the musty papers written in merged dialects of Greek, scrambled and encoded to prevent anyone from reading them. The code was not made by magic, but had been devised by the mind of someone incredibly brilliant and even more paranoid. He had only just finished translating it into English, but the code stumped him. He feared he wouldn’t be able to break it, which meant he would never see his wife again.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHG HGHG**

  
  
Ginny’s lungs struggled for air and received only water. There was sudden panic in her mind and even more in Harry’s. She couldn’t breathe. They were underwater. She was drowning.  
  
Harry’s body acted on its own; he grabbed her arm and forced his mouth over hers. Water passed through his gills and he exhaled into her mouth. Ginny spat water into his, he pulled back and pushed out the water, then pressed his lips over hers again, exhaling as forcefully as he could.  
  
 _Don’t try to breathe,_ he thought. _Keep your mouth closed._  
  
Her eyes were wide but she nodded. Harry inhaled and placed his mouth over hers. Second-hand air filled her but there was still panic. Harry looked around for a way to cut her from the statue. He exhaled into her mouth, drew his wand, and jabbed it at the rope. It snapped immediately and Harry started to kick his legs. He wrapped one arm around Ginny’s waist and she wrapped both of her arms around his chest. He breathed for her again and swam as fast as he could towards the distant surface. Ginny tapped his back every few seconds and he exhaled into her mouth but he could tell that it was working well. Halfway up, she was going limp again. Harry pressed his mouth over hers and held her head in place, inhaling through his nose and exhaling into her mouth, but her mind was still slowing. His leg kicked faster and the panic grew. Ginny was getting more and more limp in his arms.  
  
 _Stay with me, Gin,_ he thought, exhaling into her again.  
  
 _My head.  
  
Stay with me, we’re almost there!  
  
My chest…_  
  
Harry exhaled into her again. There was too much water in her lungs. She was still drowning. His legs were aching from swimming and Ginny’s weight was not helping.  
  
 _I’m not… that heavy…_  
  
Harry exhaled into her mouth. _No, you’re lighter than feathers. Focus on me.  
  
You’re a great kisser…._ Ginny coughed suddenly and water shot into her mouth. Harry sealed his lips over hers quickly and exhaled.  
  
 _Stay with me, please, love…_  
  
Ginny touched a hand to his face and tried to kiss him. _No, I need to breathe for you,_ he thought. Ginny pressed her lips against his anyway, making it difficult for him to exhale her oxygen. _Ginny!_ His swimming slowed; he pulled back to focus on getting to the surface, then put his mouth over hers again so he could keep breathing into her. She was so limp.  
  
Harry’s free hand broke the surface and at the same time his gills closed together. With one last, powerful kick, both his and Ginny’s heads burst out of the water and he gasped for breath. It was suddenly odd to be breathing air instead of water, but that wasn’t what he was concerned with. Ginny’s head was lolling onto her shoulder, her mouth still under the water.  
  
 _Ginny,_ he thought, shaking her. Her head fell backwards, bringing her mouth out of the water, but she did not respond.  
  
“Ginny,” he said aloud, now struggling to keep his own head above the water. A wave broke over their heads and he coughed as water entered his nose. He looked around for sight of the shore and saw a boat coming towards him.  
  
“Help!” he shouted. “Help!”  
  
He saw Ludo Bagman in the boat, along with Dumbledore, Karkaroff and Maxime as well as Mr. Crouch. Harry waved his hand through the air, screaming himself hoarse. Ginny was still motionless; he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not.  
  
 _Wake up!_ He thought, shaking her more. His panic growing, he tried to swim towards the boat but his skills at swimming had diminished greatly since the effect of the green slime had worn off. He struggled to keep Ginny above the water, swallowing a lot of water along the way. The taste was foul in his mouth but he didn’t care. Ginny was not moving.  
  
A hand gripped his shirt and pulled him up; Harry grabbed at Ginny’s arms but whoever was hauling him had added their other hand; they were very strong. He lost his grip and Ginny drifted away, falling face forward into the water.  
  
“Ginny!” he shouted. Someone else grabbed her arm and yanked her face from the water; Bagman got his hands under her arms and lifted her up. The white cotton dress clung to her frame and the sleeves were pushed past her elbows; on her left arm a corner of a ‘W’ was visible. Harry grabbed her around the waist as soon as Bagman had hauled her into the boat.  
  
“She’s not breathing,” he muttered.  
  
“Harry, step back,” someone behind him said.  
  
“She’s not breathing!”  
  
“Harry, move out of the way!”  
  
Someone grabbed his arm and wrenched him off of Ginny’s limp body; Dumbledore was kneeling beside her and waving his wand over her chest. Harry watched with wide eyes. Her chest was still, too still. Dumbledore jerked his wand upward and Ginny suddenly turned over, vomiting lake-water all over the deck of the boat. Coughing, she looked up and reached for Harry. He pulled himself out of the grip of whoever was holding him and wrapped his arms around her. Her body was shaking violently and she was still spitting up water.  
  
“H-Harry?” she mumbled.  
  
“You’re all right,” he said, “you’re okay.”  
  
“I — I saw him,” she whispered in his ear. _I saw him…_  
  
Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead. _It’s okay, Ginny, you’re okay.  
  
I saw him, Harry!  
  
It wasn’t real,_ he thought.  
  
Ginny’s eyes were wide still, but slowly, she nodded her head. She gripped his arms tightly, and pressed her body into his chest. She was taking deep, ragged breaths and she was still coughing up water.  
  
“How did she wake up?”  
  
Harry looked up. Barty Crouch was standing over him, looking both worried and angry. Dumbledore did not answer immediately; Karkaroff and Maxime both had unreadable expressions — his was very tense while hers looked almost thoughtful —, and Bagman spluttered incoherently. His eyes were focused on Ginny, and Harry felt a sudden desire to get her a blanket. He looked around and saw towels behind him; he grabbed one and draped it over her shoulders. Bagman’s gaze still did not move.  
  
“How in the name of Merlin did that spell not work?” Crouch demanded. “You promised the children that they would be perfectly safe, yet this girl has almost drowned. Answer me that, Ludo!”  
  
Harry glanced at the former Quidditch player. He was still babbling.  
  
“Dumbledore, where is the fourth champion?” Crouch asked. “We have Mr. Krum and Mr. Diggory and their hostages, where is Miss Delacour and her sister?”  
  
“The hour is up,” Karkaroff said. “She failed.”  
  
“Miss Delacour is on the shore with Madam Pomfrey,” Dumbledore said. “Her sister will be returned to her shortly.”  
  
“I thought that the hostages would be lost if we failed!”  
  
Harry turned and realized suddenly that Diggory was sitting behind him. As was Cho Chang, wrapped in a towel, and behind them were Krum and —  
  
“Hermione?” he said. She pressed a finger to her lips then waved, mouthing ‘Later!’  
  
Crouch still did not look pleased. He turned back to Bagman and glared at him with thin lips.  
  
“I — I — I don’t know!” Bagman protested. “I tested the charm myself before placing it on the girls; it should have kept her asleep! I do not know how to explain this!”  
  
Ginny coughed up one last mouthful of water, then closed her eyes and leaned against Harry’s chest. Her mind was weary, and her body was exhausted. He locked his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap so she could curl up more comfortably.  
  
Madam Maxime suddenly came around Harry and Ginny; she grabbed a towel and put around his shoulders, then got another and put it around Ginny’s legs. She touched Harry’s hair, then backed away and stood watching them with a curious expression. Harry tried not to feel awkward, but the other adults were not paying attention to them or the half-giant French woman.  
  
“She should have remained asleep until she came above water, I have no explanation as to why she didn’t!” Bagman insisted.  
  
“But there must be one!” Crouch shouted back.  
  
“I believe I have it,” Dumbledore said softly. Both men went immediately silent and stared.  
  
“And?” Crouch said after a moment’s silence.  
  
Dumbledore stayed silent a moment longer, his eyes fixed on Ginny’s tired and still frightened face. “Miss Weasley is a very unique individual,” he began. “She has had… experiences that have made her resilient to certain magics. Magics such as ones governing her behavior.”  
  
Ludo frowned, but Crouch looked as if he suddenly understood. “Oh, yes,” he said. Harry could almost see him remembering an event two years before where several students were petrified by a giant snake and two nearly killed.  
  
“So I believe that Miss Weasley’s will did not register exactly that she was a willing participant in the task, and therefore struggled to break the enchantment. She has been tricked into allowing spells to be cast upon her in the past.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Karkaroff spoke for the first time.  
  
“It is a long story, Igor,” Dumbledore said simply. “For the moment, we should both be impressed by Miss Weasley’s strength of will and keep in mind that we should not put her in such a situation again.”  
  
Crouch nodded stiffly and Ludo Bagman muttered something under his breath. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the towel over her head. _I saw him, Harry._  
  
Harry kissed her forehead and rubbed her shoulder. _It’s all right, love, he can’t hurt you._  
  
She shook her head at him. _I’m not worried about me. He’s alive, Harry._  
  
Harry frowned at her. _Wait, who are we talking about?_  
  
Ginny opened her eyes and fixed them on his. There was a manic glint in them that worried him. _Voldemort.  
  
What?  
  
He’s coming back!_  
  
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, now frightened himself. _How do you know?_  
  
Ginny bit her lip. _Those dreams I’ve been having, I never really thought about them much but I dreamt that I was going to be trapped underwater and you were going to save me by giving me air; I dreamt that you would be put into the tournament; I dreamt that you’d fight a dragon. All those things came true. I even got stuck in this stupid dress that I dreamt I was wearing!  
  
Okay… so how do you know Voldemort is coming back?  
  
While I was under the water, I could see him… I dreamt about him before; he’s doing this, he somehow got you put in the Tournament I know it!_  
  
Harry kissed the top of her head again in an effort to calm her down. _We have to tell Dumbledore._  
  
She nodded vaguely. _Do you think he’s going to do anything? He hasn’t worked very hard on finding out about our bond, or about Tom’s memories, or anything else we’ve told him.  
  
He’ll figure it out,_ Harry assured her. She bit her lip again but did not reply.  
  
The boat must have been moving without being controlled and without their noticing for at that moment it bumped into a dock that Harry didn’t remember being there that morning. Bagman jumped out and tied off the boat before helping Diggory get up and out of the boat, then Cho and Hermione and then Krum. Karkaroff got out without taking Bagman’s outstretched hand and Madam Maxime did not take the offered help either. Dumbledore stepped over and helped Ginny to her feet, then Harry. They exited the boat and Dumbledore led the two of them along with the other dripping champions and hostages to a tent on the shore. Karkaroff strode off immediately and Madam Maxime passed them on her way to the tent. Bagman came up behind Harry and Ginny and offered Ginny his arm to lean on; she was still shaking. Ginny declined with a shake of her head.  
  
In the tent, Madam Pomfrey immediately shoved Pepper-up potions under their noses. Harry was about to drink his when Dumbledore said that Ginny had woken up before reaching the surface.  
  
“What?!” the matron demanded. She grabbed Ginny’s arm and pushed her into a chair before Dumbledore could answer and began casting numerous spells. Harry gulped down the potion and sat down beside his girlfriend.  
  
Hermione plopped into a seat beside Harry with a sigh. Ginny waved vaguely at her, but Madam Pomfrey reprimanded her to remain still.  
  
“What happened?” Hermione asked in a hushed tone.  
  
Harry shrugged. “I reached out to take her hand, and she just woke up. Started choking immediately.”  
  
“How did she not drown?” Madam Pomfrey asked with shock in her voice.  
  
“I gave her air,” he said. “Mouth-to-mouth until we reached the surface.”  
  
Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrow. “How did you know that would work?”  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny, then shrugged again. “I just did.”  
  
The matron looked mildly impressed for a moment, then quickly stifled it. “Drink that potion, Miss Weasley,” she said in a scolding tone. Ginny rolled her eyes and raised the steaming goblet to her lips.  
  
“Ginny!”  
  
The four of them looked up to see Ron, Fred, George and Percy running towards them. Or rather, Ron, Fred and George were running. Percy was walking speedily.  
  
Ron collided with Ginny’s chair and engulfed her in a bear hug, making her grunt with surprise; Fred and George went around her to hug her from the back and Percy tried not to skid as he stopped to wait his turn.  
  
“You drowned!” Ron shouted. “They said you drowned!”  
  
“No,” Ginny croaked from under one of the twins’ arms, “almost though. It’d be nice if I had air.”  
  
Instantly all three boys let go. Harry had never seen any of them look so worried.  
  
“What the hell happened?” Percy demanded.  
  
“Perce!” Ginny said in shock.  
  
“Wow, he does know the ‘h’ word,” George said in even more shock.  
  
“Where did you come from?” Harry asked.  
  
“Back away!” Madam Pomfrey shouted. “Away from my patient!”  
  
Ron, George, and Fred jumped back and lined up beside Percy. Madam Pomfrey glared at them, then at Ginny until she raised her goblet to drink what was left in it.  
  
“But what happened?” Percy asked again.  
  
“Dumbledore thinks Ginny’s subconscious overcame the enchanted sleep because it didn’t recognize that she had agreed to participate in the task,” Hermione answered.  
  
Ginny nodded, but didn’t add to that because she was still drinking the Pepper-up potion. Madam Pomfrey glanced at Harry and scowled to see that his wasn’t finished either. Quickly, he took a large gulp. She nodded and drifted away to attend to another patient.  
  
“Why would it?” Ron asked.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows. The boys still looked confused.  
  
“Because I was possessed multiple times a few years ago,” Ginny said, setting down her empty goblet. Harry thought it helped her to finish that Ron had knocked it out of her hand and caused most of it to spill on the ground.  
  
All four boys looked suddenly guilty. Ginny smiled dryly at them.  
  
“Easy to forget when it isn’t you,” she muttered. She rubbed the inside of her left arm, her gaze drifting to the ground. Harry reached over and grasped her hand in both of his, stopping her from at least dwelling physically on the scar.  
  
Everyone was staring at their feet in awkwardness now. Each Weasley boy looked up briefly at different moments as if to say something, but they never had anything worth saying, so they looked back down at the ground.  
  
“What are you doing here, Percy?” Ginny asked finally, looking up at him.  
  
“Oh.” Percy blushed. “Er, Mr. Crouch requested I come to assist him,” he answered. “I remained on shore while he went out on the lake in the boat.”  
  
“Of course,” Ginny muttered. “Does he know your name yet?”  
  
Percy opened his mouth to answer when the man himself stuck his head in the tent and shouted “Weatherby! Come here!”  
  
George, Ron, Ginny and Fred burst out laughing. Harry and Hermione chuckled slightly while Percy turned beet red.  
  
“Yes, sir!” he called back, turning on his heel and marching out of the tent.  
  
Ginny suddenly started coughing and Madam Pomfrey rushed over instantly. “Away, away! You may speak to her later!”  
  
The remaining Weasley boys backed away until Madam Pomfrey stopped glaring at them. The matron pulled a bottle of potion from nowhere and poured it into Ginny’s goblet. “I will need you to spend the next few days in the Hospital Wing, so I may observe you.”  
  
“I have to stay with her,” Harry said instantly.  
  
Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth, probably to rebuke him, when Dumbledore touched her shoulder. “Given their circumstance, Poppy, I would allow him to stay in the Hospital Wing as well.”  
  
“What circumstance?” Madam Pomfrey asked.  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. The Matron pursed her lips, but jerked her head up and down. “Very well, Albus, but you will need to explain yourself later,” she said stiffly. She turned to Ginny and scowled. “Drink, Miss Weasley, drink!”  
  
Ginny sighed but raised the goblet to her mouth. She made a face as she took a gulp. “Merlin, what is this?”  
  
“A Replenishing Potion,” Madam Pomfrey said. She turned away and bustled across the tent to where Diggory and Cho Chang were seated.  
  
Professor Dumbledore turned his gaze onto Harry and Ginny. “You are required to remain here until my fellow judges have agreed on scoring, but once you have received your score, Harry, I will escort you to the Hospital Wing personally. Madam Pomfrey will not be able to return to the castle immediately so we will have up to fifteen minutes in privacy. I will have questions for you both and new information.”  
  
And the Headmaster left the tent. Ginny turned to Harry with raised eyebrows.  
  
 _Questions? New information? Nearly drowning? Today is our day, isn’t it?_  
  
Harry suppressed a snort and took her hand. _I’m curious what he has to tell us._  
  
Ginny nodded slowly. “Indeed.”  
  
Hermione looked between the two of them with total confusion written across her face. “You two make no sense,” she muttered.  
  
“Attention!”  
  
All three of them looked up; the five judges were visible from the tent entrance, Ludo Bagman standing before the rest with his wand touched to his throat, amplifying his voice.  
  
“The judges have prepared the scores,” Bagman said. “Three of our four champions completed the task, as Miss Delacour did not reach her hostage and will not receive points. She is in fourth place with 36 points from the first task. Mr. Diggory returned with his hostage just outside the time limit, and was given 32 points, leaving him in third place with 74. Mr. Krum arrived with his hostage only moments before the limit and was given 42 for a total of 77. Mr. Potter returned more than 20 minutes outside the time limit.”  
  
Bagman glanced at the other judges and continued. “However, the mer-chief reports that Mr. Potter was the second to arrive at the village. His hostage, due to unforeseen complications, woke up prematurely and was unable to breathe. Mr. Potter prevented his hostage from drowning by giving her second-hand air. Our judges deemed this very courageous and a show of remarkable cool under pressure and have given him 40 points, added to what he was given at the first task, a total of 79 points.”  
  
Harry and Ginny met eyes. Slowly, both of them began to grin and Ginny grabbed Harry in a hug.  
  
“You’re in first place!” Hermione shouted.  
  
“You might actually win this thing!” Ginny beamed at Harry.  
  
“The important thing is, you’re not dead,” Harry said. “But that is nice too.”  
  
Ginny kissed Harry quickly; quickly because Madam Pomfrey rushed over saying “No no no, you must be calm!”  
  
Ginny scowled as she took another gulp of her Replenishing Potion.  
  



	22. Sleep Is For Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sleep is for losers" I say as I post a new story on ao3 at 3am...

**Chapter Twenty-Two: The Goblet of Fire Part Nine  
Sleep Is For Losers  
Harry**

  
  
  
Dumbledore returned to the tent a few moments after the announcement of the points. He spoke briefly to Madam Pomfrey, then beckoned to Harry and Ginny. Hermione waved to them as they got up and left the tent.  
  
The walk back to the castle was cold. It was windy for February, and their wet clothes did not help. Harry was glad when they made it back to the castle.  
  
Once in the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore found them uniforms and they drew curtains to change. Harry balled up his wet trousers and shirt, then scrubbed the last of the sand off the bottom of his feet. He pushed back his curtains and flopped onto his bed.  
  
Dumbledore conjured a squashy armchair as Ginny moved her curtains. He lowered himself into it and wove his fingers together over his chest.  
  
“When exactly did you wake up, Ginny?” Dumbledore asked.  
  
“Um,” Ginny began. “I — Harry was reaching out to take my hand, I think. I — I don’t remember a lot.”  
  
“You hadn’t yet touched her?” Dumbledore asked Harry.  
  
Harry shook his head.  
  
Dumbledore sighed faintly and drew from a fold in his robes a worn leather book. “I have deciphered more of Thaon’s diary. There are many passages containing no pertinent information, speaking merely of his own day or repeating old information; however, there are several that do contain news. One such passage I will read to you.”  
  
Dumbledore flicked through the pages of the book and cleared his throat.  
  
 _“The first day of the ninth month, in the year of our lord 1125. Eirene performed a magick on herself this morning. She is alive, but asleep and will not wake. I have tried everything, but she remains unconscious. I write this by her bedside, as she sleeps. Our nurse, Alasdair MacArthur, has promised to do his best, but he fears, as I do, that this might not be a sleep we can end. I fear it might not be a mere spell, but a potion. I curse myself for teaching it to her, yet Alasdair insists there was no way for me to predict she would use it on herself.  
  
The Draught of Living Death is a complex potion, yet somehow Eirene must have brewed it. A simply spell could not have produced the effect that we are seeing in Eirene. I do not know what conditions she put into the potion for her awakening, or if she desires to wake at all. I fear that she has designed the potion to keep her in eternal sleep, never – It is time for the feast. I shall finish this later.”_  
  
Dumbledore turned the page and Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. She raised an eyebrow, he shrugged.  
  
Dumbledore resumed. _“Midnight has passed, making it the second day, but I am elated.”_ Ginny raised the other eyebrow. _“I was required to be present at the Welcoming Feast for the students, but as the last of the new students entered the hall, one of them collapsed in the midst of the hall. Not that this was a good thing, but what happened later was. I assisted Tiberius in bringing the student, a boy about fifteen, to the medical wing for Alasdair to inspect. We laid him on a bed near Eirene’s and as Alasdair moved to check him for injuries, he surged up, and jumped away. He ran to Eirene, shouting aloud what Tiberius and Alasdair took to be nonsense, but I could understand. “My imagination!” he had shouted. “Impossible!” The boy froze before Eirene, simply staring down at her in shock. I explained what had happened to her, which alarmed the boy further.  
  
“‘Is that why I could not hear her?” he asked me. “I thought I was just growing up, that I was growing out of it, but she’s here! She’s real!’  
  
“I was just as confused at first, but then something seemed to click inside my mind. I asked the boy if he was a squire to a Saxon, and the boy answered yes, he served a knight who protected a monastery in Ireland. I asked him exactly what he meant by ‘hearing’ Eirene, and he answered, rather bashfully, that he had retained a fictional companion in his imagination and that my great-niece was this fictional companion, he was sure of it.  
  
“‘Sir, I have loved her for a long time,” he answered. “But I was certain that I was merely creating a love for myself, since I was so lonely at the monastery. I thought she was my imagination.’  
  
“This came as though music to my ears. I asked the boy to take her hand, just to see what would happen. The boy complied, but no sooner than his fingers touching hers, the boy bent and touched a kiss to her lips, gently and quickly. Eirene’s eyes opened, she gasped, and then slapped the boy. It was actually amusing, if I am entirely honest. The boy spluttered, let go of her hand, and backed away, as Eirene sat up. She seemed to have not noticed anyone but the boy, her face was shocked and disbelieving and there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes that I had not seen in such a long time.  
  
“Eirene and the boy were silent a long time; they only stared into each other’s eyes, until finally she asked for his name. “Thomas,” he answered. She gave him her name, and Thomas’s face seemed to light up. The air around them was suddenly warm, in fact he was literally beginning to glow. Thomas took her hand again, and the dark circles beneath Eirene’s eyes seemed to erase themselves. I could practically see the cracks in her spirit mending, all her broken pieces coming back together. This was what I had been imagining: Two halves reuniting into one whole.”_  
  
Ginny looked at Harry with a thoughtful expression. Dumbledore looked up at them.  
  
“This, I thought, was most important because Eirene was in an enchanted sleep and Thomas woke her up despite the fact that she had intended to not ever awaken. In the light of what happened this morning, I thought that the same thing might have happened. However, you say that you had not yet touched her when she awoke?”  
  
Harry nodded again. “I was maybe a foot from her.”  
  
Dumbledore ‘hmmed’ as he looked through the book again. He sighed and closed it, then tucked it back into his robes. “I must translate more to see if there is anything speaking of such a thing. I believe that it was a combination of Ginny’s resistance to such enchantments and your bond that caused her to wake before the proper time, but we will not be able to duplicate such a thing without drawing suspicion or risking further harm to your life, Ginny.”  
  
“So what do we do?” Harry asked.  
  
Dumbledore thought for a moment before answering. “We watch you, to see what side effects come up. Ginny, Madam Pomfrey wishes you to stay in the Hospital Wing four days so she may watch you; you will be excused from your lessons. Harry, I have convinced her to allow you to remain two days; on the third you will need to attend lessons but you may stay the night here. While Ginny has her final day, you will not be allowed to sleep here.”  
  
Both Harry and Ginny nodded, then glanced at each other. Harry raised his eyebrows. Ginny narrowed hers.  
  
 _They’re your dreams,_ he said.  
  
 _I don’t like talking right now.  
  
Seriously?_  
  
Harry sighed and turned back to the headmaster. “Sir, we have one more thing to tell you.”  
  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “And that would be?”  
  
Harry looked back at Ginny. She stuck her nose in the air. He sighed again. “Ginny doesn’t want to explain it. She’s been having these… dreams.”  
  
“And what about these dreams, pray tell, makes them odd?”  
  
“Well, they’ve been coming true…”  
  
Dumbledore looked intrigued. “How so?”  
  
“The first one she dreamt was about the Tournament, that I would be entered.”  
  
“Indeed?”  
  
“And the next one, actually a recurring one, was that she would be swimming in the Black Lake, and in two of those she dreamt that she would drown.”  
  
Dumbledore furrowed his brow. “Indeed…” he repeated, more softly.  
  
“While I was in that enchanted sleep,” Ginny spoke finally. “I had another dream. And this has been playing off bits and pieces that have appeared in my normal dreams throughout the year; I dreamt about a — a thing, something sentient but not quite human…” she trailed off, looking down at her lap.  
  
“She thinks it might be Voldemort,” Harry said.  
  
Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up. “What makes you say that?”  
  
“It — it’s really complicated,” Ginny said. “I don’t know how to explain it.”  
  
Dumbledore drew his wand and conjured a small glass flask. “Ginny, there is an artifact called a Pensieve. It is a way to contain and replay memories. May I ask you to concentrate on the memories of these dreams and allow me to remove them from your mind?”  
  
Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Remove them? How?”  
  
“I will touch my wand to your temple,” Dumbledore said, holding out his wand, “you will focus on the memories, bring them to the forefront of your mind, and I will ‘capture’ them, you might say. A trace of them will remain in your mind, you will remember having those memories and the details, but you will not be able to recall the specifics of them. Do you consent?”  
  
Ginny glanced at Harry and raised one eyebrow. He considered it, then shrugged. _What’s the harm?_  
  
Ginny turned back to Dumbledore. “Yes, I consent.”  
  
Dumbledore touched his wand to her temple. Ginny closed her eyes, then the headmaster’s wand tip began to glow.  
  
“Do you have them all in mind?” Dumbledore asked. Ginny nodded. Dumbledore began to pull his wand away from her forehead. A strand of silver followed it; slowly, the strand broke and coagulated onto the wand tip. Dumbledore lowered his wand tip into the flask and the silver dripped from his wand.  
  
“Thank you, Ginny,” Dumbledore said, stepping back. “I will examine these tonight and come back to you with my conclusions.”  
  
As Dumbledore tucked the flask into his robes, the doors opened and Madam Pomfrey bustled in in a huff.  
  
“Hungarians,” she grumbled, crossing the wing to Ginny’s bed. Dumbledore bowed his head and strode from the room. The matron began mumbling spells as she ran her wand over Ginny. Ginny turned to Harry and rolled her eyes.  
  
“The Headmaster has insisted you be allowed to stay with Miss Weasley while she is recovering, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as she checked Ginny’s pulse, “so I must tell you that I have a no tolerance policy for shenanigans.”  
  
Harry knit his eyebrows. Madam Pomfrey stared stonily at him.  
  
 _She means you have to stay in your bed,_ Ginny thought.  
  
Harry turned red and chose to focus his attention on his feet. His toenails needed clipping.  
  
 _That’s disgusting, Harry._  
  
Harry chose not to respond and tried to think of any spell that might clip them for him. He felt the need to hunch over as well and prop his head on his hand, resting his elbow on a knee. He flicked his gaze at her and she rolled her eyes.  
  
“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Ginny said. Harry nodded, trying to avoid speaking as well. Madam Pomfrey huffed and strode away, muttering something about saltpeter.  
  
 _Why, Harry?  
  
What? I didn’t do anything! It’s a natural —  
  
That is not what I was talking about, you were supposed to respond to Madam Pomfrey!  
  
Oh._  
  
Ginny sighed and flopped back on her pillows. Harry stayed hunched over for the moment. _She’s not pleased with you.  
  
Well, it’s not my fault!_  
  
Ginny shook her head and rolled over. _I’m tired._  
  
Harry glanced around the wing, then slipped off his bed and sat down by her. He awkwardly rubbed her shoulder. _I’m sorry, Ginny. I never meant for any of this to happen.  
  
I know. None of us guessed that it was a person that riddle was talking about._  
  
Harry nodded vaguely. He heard a door and jumped up, quickly dropping onto his own bed. It wasn’t Madam Pomfrey, it was Hermione, Ron, George, Fred and Percy.  
  
Hermione immediately went to hug Ginny while the four brothers stood there looking uncomfortably protective and rather awkward.  
  
“We get to stay a few minutes before we have to go to lunch,” Hermione said. “Madam Pomfrey said you two would get to stay here the next few days, how’d you manage that?”  
  
“Dumbledore,” Harry said simply.  
  
“Of course,” George said.  
  
“Genius man,” Fred responded.  
  
“Lucky,” Ron grumbled. “You get two days off school.”  
  
“I’ll make sure to take extra notes so you don’t miss anything,” Hermione said, looking between the two of them. “Ron, you should too.”  
  
Ron looked at her like she had two heads. “What for? You’ll be copying down what the teacher says word for word anyway.”  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and looked away from him. Ginny met her gaze and rolled her eyes, causing their bookish friend’s expression to soften.  
  
"Time is up,” Madam Pomfrey called as she strode across the wing with trays of food floating in front of her. Hermione jumped up from the bed as Madam Pomfrey lowered a tray onto Ginny’s bed.  
  
“You may visit again after the afternoon lessons,” the matron told the group with a stern look at Ron and Hermione in particular. They waved and said their goodbyes, then left the wing. Madam Pomfrey lowered a tray onto Harry’s bed, then took the last one to a bed across the hall, where another student was sleeping.  
  
 _Watch out for saltpeter,_ Ginny thought.  
  
Harry looked quizzically at her. She raised her eyebrows and smirked. He rolled his eyes and stabbed a spoon into a pile of mashed potatoes.  
  
The rest of their day was extremely boring. After lunch, Madam Pomfrey gave Ginny a dreamless sleep potion and set a small, silver object on her nightstand. She told Harry it was a device to monitor her as she slept, and if anything went wrong, it would shriek very loudly. Harry reached out to pick it up as the matron was leaving and accidentally knocked it onto the floor, where it commenced to shriek very, very loudly. Madam Pomfrey was back by Ginny’s bed in a flash, righted the object and silenced it. She glared at Harry for half a minute before leaving again.  
  
Ginny didn’t wake up until close to seven, but that was only because Madam Pomfrey shook her awake for dinner. She ate about half of what was on her plate then fell back against her pillows to sleep again. Harry almost asked for a sleeping potion himself, but considering that the matron seemed very miffed that evening he decided not to.  
  
It took a long time for him to fall asleep that night. He got up more than once and simply walked around the wing, because it felt like his joints were literally itching. Around one a.m., he knelt down by Ginny’s bed and brushed her hair away from her face. She stirred faintly, but didn’t wake.  
  
The next two days were dull and empty. They spent a large amount of time conversing mentally, discussing everything from her dreams to Quidditch scores. In the afternoon, Hermione and Ron came by, Hermione with homework, Ron with news of Hogwarts. Or rather gossip. Harry could not understand why Ron was fascinated by gossip, but it must have run in the family because Ginny hung on to his words.  
  
The third day, Madam Pomfrey kicked Harry out of the wing before breakfast, insisting he eat in the Great Hall. He did, with resignation, then went to his classes. That day’s schedule consisted of Divination for himself and Ron and Arithmency for Hermione in the first period, History in the second, followed by lunch, then a double period of Herbology. Harry ran back during lunch to drop off Hermione’s notes from Arithmency and History with Ginny, stealing a quick kiss before Madam Pomfrey could shoo him away.  
  
The fourth day was less empty. First period was Potions, where Snape had them brew a Sleeping Draught and Ron added too much lavender and heat, ending with Neville getting woozy from the fumes and spilling his own potion when he leaned over Ron’s cauldron. Curiously enough, Snape didn’t give either of them detention. He did take thirty points from Ron and another ten from Harry for not helping. It was strange, Harry thought. The Potions Master was being nearly docile. Second period was Defense, and Remus had them trying their Shield charm’s strength against the Jelly-legs Jinx. Harry’s was fairly strong, at least he thought until Ron and Hermione switched places and her jinx hit him squarely in the stomach. Third period they had Transfiguration, and the day ended with another History lesson.  
  
As Ginny’s fourth day in the hospital wing came to an end, Harry waited in the common room for Ron and Hermione to return from dinner. Dumbledore had asked him to stay out of the hospital wing that evening while Madam Pomfrey performed one last checkup on Ginny. He had also asked if they had felt any differences in their bond since then, but the answer had been no.  
  
Harry did feel anxious for some reason. He had spent almost every minute with Ginny the past three days, but that day he hadn’t even been able to visit her for more than two minutes during lunch, due to Hermione’s insistence that they visit the library so she could pick up a stack of books on Shield charms. Now, with her conspicuous absence, something didn’t feel quite right.  
  
 _You should have told Dumbledore that,_ Ginny thought.  
  
 _I know,_ he replied. _But I don’t know what’s wrong. How was I supposed to tell him what’s happening when I don’t know what that is?_  
  
Ginny huffed mentally. _You should have said at least that you were worried about nothing._  
  
Harry shrugged. He caught movement in the portrait hole out of the corner of his eye and turned to see who it was. It was just Dean and Seamus; they were laughing about something. They waved to him as they crossed the common room and he waved back.  
  
 _How about we discuss something else?_ Harry asked Ginny.  
  
Ginny ‘hmm’ed in her mind. _How about what might be wrong?  
  
Or about today’s Defense lesson! Remus is really drilling those Shield charms into us, isn’t he?  
  
Isn’t that a 5th year spell?_Ginny asked.  
  
 _I think it might be. But, hey, pretty much everyone is getting it._  
  
Harry felt her nodding. _Remus is doing good._ They rested in silence a moment, then Ginny thought: _How’s Snape doing?  
  
I can’t tell. He didn’t do much today; just wrote the recipe on the blackboard and had us go at it.  
  
I think it’s odd that he didn’t take many points or even give a detention.  
  
He took 30 points from Ron for what happened to Neville and 10 from me for just being there!  
  
But considering he usually takes upwards of 50 points from Gryffindor…  
  
True,_ Harry replied with a sigh.  
  
The portrait hole opened again, and this time it was Ron and Hermione. Harry waved to them before Ginny replied.  
  
 _I think something is wrong with him.  
  
What do you care?_ Harry asked. _He’s not giving us detention for no reason and not taking a hundred points from Gryffindor each lesson. I think there’s finally something right with him._  
  
Ron and Hermione dropped onto the couch on either side of Harry.  
  
“What’s up?” Hermione asked.  
  
“Ginny thinks there’s something wrong with Snape,” Harry said.  
  
“She’s right,” Hermione replied with a sigh.  
  
“She is?” both Ron and Harry said.  
  
“He’s depressed,” Hermione continued. “I asked Professor McGonagall about him after Transfiguration, and she told me that his mother died on Christmas. That was why he was gone last semester; he was taking care of her.”  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged looks of shock.  
  
“Snape has a mother?” Ron said with disbelief in his voice.  
  
Hermione glared at him. “Of course he does; he had to be born somehow.”  
  
“But she died?” Harry repeated. “On Christmas day?”  
  
Hermione nodded. “Professor McGonagall told me she had some terminal illness. Probably cancer.”  
  
Harry looked back at Ron with raised eyebrows. “Wow,” he said softly.  
  
 _I hate to say this, but I’m almost sorry for the git,_ Ginny thought.  
  
Harry tried not to snort. Hermione frowned, then she rolled her eyes. “You two,” she muttered, getting up and walking away. Ron looked confused for a moment, then he shrugged and looked at Harry.  
  
“Wanna play some chess?” he asked.  
  
Harry inhaled deeply. “Well, you won’t be challenged at all.”  
  
“That’s all right, Harry, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”  
  
Harry chuckled as Ron got off the couch. “I’ll go grab my set.”  
  
“Let’s play upstairs, there are too many people in here,” Harry said. Ron frowned.  
  
“There’s only a few,” he said.  
  
“Well, there’ll be more in a minute.”  
  
Ron shrugged and turned towards the stairs. As they mounted them, the portrait hole opened and a gaggle of girls entered the common room. Ron glanced at them then kept going.  
  
About an hour later, Harry lost three times and was rapidly spiraling into a fourth loss. Ron had just taken his queen and had put him in check when his lungs decided to stop working.  
  
His hand shook as his fingers hovered over the king to move it away from Ron’s queen. His stomach flipped over and stirred with nausea. Harry opened his mouth, but he couldn’t force air out either. Ron looked at him quizzically.  
  
“What’s the matter, mate?” he said. Harry shook his head, trying to suck in air, but his diaphragm refused to budge. Instead, his chest tightened. He looked around; the walls were suddenly pressed against him. The ceiling was lower than it should have been, and it was getting closer. Harry opened and closed his mouth; no air would cross his lips. He clapped his hands to his neck, maybe the gills had returned, but his neck was smooth.  
  
“Harry?” Ron asked, shifting so he sat on his knees. “What’s the matter?”  
  
Harry’s vision got splotchy. The ceiling was too close; it was pushing him against the ground. The walls; the walls were stopping him from breathing, that was it. He needed to get away from the walls.  
  
Harry stumbled to his feet, scattering the chess pieces. They screamed in protest, but it sounded distant to Harry. The room swam before him; he staggered towards the door, then tripped over Neville’s trunk. Ron had shot to his feet and was by his side, saying something but Harry couldn’t hear it. His brain hurt from not having oxygen.  
  
Something hit him in the back very, very hard. He coughed suddenly and violently, and air was forced into his lungs. Harry drew in a ragged breath, then the walls squeezed his chest again. There was faint shouting in the room, and whatever it was hit his back again. He coughed, and once again air was forced into him. A face swam before him; taller than him and darker. The face had arms attached to it; it pulled Harry forward and out of the dormitory. The walls pressed against Harry’s chest; the darker person dragged Harry down stairs and pushed him into a high ceilinged, spacious room. Then his back was hit again, and he coughed. Then he could draw in a gasp of breath, then another, then another. The spots faded.  
  
“What’s the matter with him?” he heard an Irish voice saying.  
  
“Claustrophobia,” said the figure before Harry. Harry drew in another wheezing breath; the walls were still just too close, but his lungs were stronger now. His vision steadied and he realized it was Dean in front of him, and that he had been clapping Harry on the back to force him to cough.  
  
“What?” Ron’s voice. Ron came into sight; he gripped Harry’s shoulder with a hand. Harry pushed him off, stumbling farther into the room.  
  
“Don’t touch him,” Dean said. “He needs to get over it.”  
  
“What?” Ron said. “Get over what?”  
  
“The claustrophobia,” Dean answered. Harry turned around and faced his roommates. Dean looked serious; Ron and Seamus were both confused. Then he noticed Neville, who looked scared.  
  
“I — I — I’m not —” Harry stuttered. They all looked at him then. His tongue felt awkwardly large in his mouth suddenly. “I’m not — I’m not claustro —”  
  
“Claustrophobic?” Dean said. “Clearly, you are.”  
  
Harry shook his head. “But — but I’ve never — never before —”  
  
Dean shrugged. “It happens like that. My little sister has it, probably worse than you, and she gets episodes all the time. Random, no trigger, they just happen.”  
  
Harry opened his mouth and closed it several times. “But — but this never happened —“  
  
Ron stepped forward and held out a hand. “Are you okay now?” he asked.  
  
Harry tried to say yes. He would be okay in just a minute, once he got his breath back. He was okay; there was nothing wrong.  
  
Empty laughter rang through his skull. Harry’s felt suddenly cold.  
  
“Ginny,” he muttered.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGH GHGHGHG**

  
  
Time was running out. He had to decode the damn book in just a few weeks, then begin the spell. It was almost March, but the spell and the potion both needed to be finished before June 24th. He had so little time; the damned book was resisting him. He had tried every decoding spell and every combination, every key, every random thought that crossed his brain that might crack the code, but nothing was working. It was as if the author had known every method he might use to crack it, and had installed safe-guards in the very binding of the book just to foil him. And while not breaking the code would be good for the Wizarding World at large, he had to break it; he had to prepare the spell and the potion. His wife’s life depended on it.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH G**

  
  
Harry shoved himself out of the portrait hole with four voices calling after him. The cold, cruel laughter was echoing still through his brain, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of Ginny’s mind on overload. The hallways were barely wide enough for him to squeeze through, and his lungs, his lungs; they kept seizing up as the corridors got narrower and narrower. The ceiling hung low over his head, and Harry stooped so it would crush him, but with every inch he bent down, the ceiling would get closer still. His brain screamed for air, his lungs screamed for space, and Ginny screamed. Ginny screamed.  
  
Hands gripped Harry’s arm and pulled him off the ground. Harry hadn’t even noticed that he had fallen; he had just begun crawling on. He looked over and saw Ron pulling his arm over his shoulders. A wave of gratitude hit Harry. Ron probably had no clue what was going on.  
  
“Where are you going?” he asked.  
  
“Ginny,” Harry rasped.  
  
“In the Hospital Wing?”  
  
“Go!”  
  
“All right, all right,” Ron grumbled. He and Harry moved forward like some grotesque, squeezed tight three-legged race. One whose track got smaller and smaller with each step. Harry struggled to inflate his lungs, then he felt a hand slap him on the back and he was forced to cough. He saw Dean jogging beside them, one hand on Harry’s back. He smiled weakly at him, then he had to shut his eyes tightly because of the screaming. She wouldn’t stop screaming. It wasn’t Ginny; her screams were louder and yet silent. This woman, she screamed and screamed in Harry’s ear. She screamed one word: “Mercy! Mercy! MERCY!” over and over right behind him. Ginny screamed in his mind; she screamed in his ear; he needed the screaming to stop.  
  
Ron and Dean pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing. Harry hadn’t even noticed that they had gone down the stairs, but they were there. He stumbled forward, pulling his arm away from Ron. Ginny seemed silent, but she was still screaming in Harry’s mind. The other woman’s screaming had faded to a whimper, and he could tell that there was more than one voice now. How many exactly, he didn’t care just then. Ginny was crying, and he was still laughing.  
  
Harry dropped to his knees by Ginny’s bed. She was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, her face resting on them and covered by her hair. His ears heard only faint whispers, but her mind was in such turmoil. He was still laughing.  
  
Harry touched her arm. Ginny sniffled and looked up. She met his eyes and there was horror in hers.  
  
“What happened?” she whispered.  
  
“I have no idea,” Harry said.  
  
“I was asleep,” she said, her gaze drifting away. “Madam Pomfrey gave me another Dreamless Sleep Potion, but I dreamt anyway. There was a man,” Ginny suddenly grabbed Harry’s hand. “A man, he’s trying to break something but it’s not working and if he doesn’t they’ll kill his — his something, I don’t remember —”  
  
“Harry has severe claustrophobia,” Dean piped up helpfully.  
  
“You what?” Ginny said, her attention jerking back to Harry.  
  
“Er, yeah, I s’pose,” Harry mumbled.  
  
Ginny frowned. _You think that you’ve got severe claustrophobia and you’re worried about me?_  
  
Harry shrugged. _You were screaming?  
  
I wasn’t screaming.  
  
Yes you were, I heard you. Mentally._  
  
Ginny bit her lip. _I was screaming?_  
  
Harry nodded. _He — he was laughing…_  
  
Ginny’s hand drifted to her left arm. _I don’t remember…_  
  
Harry took her hand and squeezed it. _Your mind was pretty freaked out. Think it was that dream that triggered it?_  
  
Ginny shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” she said softly.  
  
“Should I get someone?” Ron asked. Ginny looked up at him; her eyes unfocused a moment, then sharpened and she held out her arms. Ron frowned. He glanced between Harry and Dean, then hesitantly stepped forward and embraced Ginny. She buried her face in his shoulder, and whispered something. Harry didn’t hear with his ears what she said, but he knew what it was.  
  
“You-Know-Who’s coming back.”  
  
Ron’s face drained of blood. He stepped back with his face slack. Ginny glanced at Dean, then mouthed ‘later.’ Ron nodded, his brow furrowing.  
  
“What is going on here?”  
  
All four of them turned to see Madam Pomfrey hurrying from her office as she hastily tied her dressing gown. Her hair was falling from its braid and her eyes looked gummed from sleep.  
  
“Err,” Harry said.  
  
“Uhhh,” Ron added.  
  
“Hi,” Dean said squeakily.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes.  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked with irritation between all three boys. “It is nearly ten o’clock; explain yourselves!”  
  
“Er, well, you see,” Ron began.  
  
“Harry was — he was kind of feeling squished —” Dean stammered.  
  
“I’m claustrophobic?” Harry finished.  
  
Madam Pomfrey did not look satisfied. “Unless there is something wrong with you, all three of you boys must return to your dormitories immediately!”  
  
“Harry threw up,” Ginny said.  
  
All three boys looked at her with confusion. Then, in unison, they understood, and looked back to Madam Pomfrey with nods and attempts to look like this was not new information. Harry had felt nauseous, so it wasn’t much of a stretch.  
  
Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes. “You did?” she asked Harry. He nodded again.  
  
Madam Pomfrey sighed and stepped forward. She pressed her fingers to his forehead, frowned, then pressed the back of her hand against it. She drew her wand and touched it to his neck. Her eyebrows shot up.  
  
“Your temperature is 89 degrees,” she whispered.  
  
Harry’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t feel cold,” he said. Madam Pomfrey snapped her fingers and a blanket soared off a shelf beside her. She took it out of the air and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Lay down here, Potter,” she said, pointing to the bed beside Ginny’s. He pushed himself up and dropped onto the bed.  
  
“You two, thank you for bringing him,” the matron said to Dean and Ron. “I will call Minerva to take you back to your dormitory.”  
  
“Uh, is 89 degrees bad?” Ron asked.  
  
“Bordering hypothermia,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Wait here, Potter, I will be right back.”  
  
She bustled past Harry’s friends and entered her office. Harry and Ginny met eyes.  
  
 _You’ve got hypothermia,_ she thought.  
  
 _Bordering it,_ he said.  
  
Ginny shook her head. _She didn’t even check me.  
  
She will when she gets back.  
  
I look fine.  
  
You look like you’ve seen a ghost.  
  
The Gray Lady passed through here about half an hour ago.  
  
Well, then the kind you weren’t expecting._  
  
Ginny shrugged.  
  
Madam Pomfrey returned and held out a steaming glass to Harry. He groaned. “Not a Pepper-up Potion!”  
  
“Yes, a Pepper-up Potion,” Madam Pomfrey said. “With a Nausea remedy in it.”  
  
Harry took the glass and sniffed it cautiously. It smelled like ginger. He took an even more cautious sip and grimaced. It tasted like she had poured ginger ale into a glass of pepper stew.  
  
“Drink,” she insisted. Then she turned to Ron and Dean with stern looks. “You should have summoned Professor McGonagall to begin with,” she said, “however I am grateful you brought him to me.”  
  
“He had a really bad episode of claustrophobia,” Dean said. “That’s why we brought him down here —” Ron elbowed him —“ aside from the vomiting,” he added.  
  
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. “There is no cure for an ailment of the mind. I will speak to Professor Dumbledore about it if you wish, though, Potter.”  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders. “It —”  
  
 _We should talk to him._  
  
“— would be good,” he finished.  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded, glancing at Ginny. Then she knit her eyebrows together and looked back at her. “Miss Weasley, are you feeling all right?”  
  
Ginny nodded vaguely.  
  
 _You are most certainly not all right, Ginny.  
  
You heard her; there’s no cure for an ailment of the mind._  
  
Harry looked at his feet. He wasn’t wearing shoes or socks.  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly. She stepped up to her and touched her forehead; she frowned then touched her wand to her neck.  
  
“What in the name of Merlin?” she whispered.  
  
“What?” Ginny asked.  
  
“You have the exact same temperature as Mr. Potter,” said the matron softly.  
  
Ginny and Harry met eyes. _That’s weird,_ she said.  
  
 _You feel cold?  
  
Nope.  
  
Neither did I._  
  
Madam Pomfrey summoned another blanket with a snap of her fingers, then after wrapping it around Ginny, she hurried back into her office. As she did, the doors to the wing opened again and McGonagall entered the hall followed by Dumbledore, Sirius and Remus.  
  
 _What are they doing here?_ Harry thought.  
  
 _Beats me,_ Ginny thought as she yawned. Harry pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders and stared in curious confusion at them.  
  
“Poppy?” McGonagall called.  
  
“Here,” Madam Pomfrey answered, coming back out of her office. She didn’t look twice at the co-teachers of Defense Against the Dark Arts or the Headmaster. She strode to Ginny’s bedside with another steaming glass and handed the potion to her. Ginny grimaced and took a gulp.  
  
“What happened?” Sirius asked hoarsely.  
  
Ginny narrowed her eyes, taking in his unkempt appearance as well as Remus’s haggard one.  
  
"Both of these students have low temperatures,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Both exactly at 89 degrees.”  
  
“Fahrenheit?” said Remus.  
  
“Yes,” Madam Pomfrey said, looking back at Ginny and Harry. “Mr. Potter has apparently also had a bout of nausea and claustrophobia.”  
  
“Claustrophobia…” Dumbledore repeated softly. Madam Pomfrey nodded.  
  
“How do they have the exact same temperature?” Dean asked. “Isn’t that statistically improbable?”  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend. Since when had he used words like improbable and known what the statistics of matching temperatures were?  
  
Ginny caught his eye and shrugged hopelessly.  
  
“Very improbable,” Professor Dumbledore agreed. “But coincidences do happen.”  
  
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. “I will take Mr. Thomas and Mr. Weasley back to Gryffindor Tower. Poppy.” McGonagall inclined her head to Madam Pomfrey then beckoned to Ron and Dean. Ron waved at them as McGonagall led them away.  
  
Professor Dumbledore watched them go, then turned back to the matron as the door shut behind them. “Poppy, you recall the talk I had with you a few days ago about Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley’s conditions?”  
  
Poppy’s eyes narrowed. “Only that you were unwilling to give me many details.”  
  
Dumbledore sighed. “Well, if what I suspect is true, this might occur more frequently in the future, so therefore you should know.”  
  
Dumbledore then turned away and drew his wand. He waved it through the air towards the door, then turned it on each window, the entrance to Madam Pomfrey’s office, and the only other occupied bed. He gestured for Remus and Sirius to step closer to Harry’s bed as he himself stepped forward, and moved his wand in a slow circle over their heads.  
  
“That should prevent our voices from carrying,” Professor Dumbledore said as he tucked his wand back into his robes. He clasped his hands together and rested them on his chest. “Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley are what you might call connected.”  
  
“How so?” Madam Pomfrey asked. “And what do you mean that this might happen more frequently?”  
  
“How so, you ask, I answer with this: They have a soul bond,” Dumbledore replied. “And why this situation might occur again, I believe it might —”  
  
Madam Pomfrey raised a hand to cut him off. “Soul bond?” she repeated. “They are bonded?”  
  
Professor Dumbledore nodded. “The first pair bonded as tightly as they are in my own lifetime that I know of. There are others who have a much looser bond that attend Hogwarts as we speak, but as far as I can tell there has not been a pair bonded so closely since the end of the Dark Age.”  
  
Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot up. “Soul bond?” she repeated once more. “As in, they share each other’s souls?”  
  
Dumbledore nodded. “Two souls shared equally between two bodies.”  
  
Madam Pomfrey touched a hand to her chest. “Oh my,” she whispered. “So — so on Friday, when she nearly drowned —had he not given her mouth to mouth as they were swimming —”  
  
“Had she not survived, Mr. Potter would have either died or lost his mind,” Dumbledore said solemnly.  
  
Harry met Ginny’s eyes. He hadn’t realized that, and by the look on her face, neither had she. He held out his hand, and Ginny stretched hers out as well. The beds were just close enough for their fingers to curl around each other.  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked stunned. “A soul bond,” she whispered.  
  
“Yes, but what about this happening more often?” Remus asked.  
  
Dumbledore withdrew the worn leather journal of Thaon Kyrillos. “I translated more, and by accident I translated an account from several years later, one detailing an experiment involving two of Thaon’s students, who, incidentally, were bound even tighter than his niece and her squire.”  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked confused. Dumbledore met her eyes and smiled. “I shall explain the journal later, Poppy. Anyway, the experiment consisted of the separation of the pair, for only nine hours. By the end of that nine hours, both were violently ill, the man had lost all his balance and the woman had begun to see and hear things to the point where she lost control of her magic in her irrational fear. According to Thaon, she nearly destroyed the North Tower in her hysteria, and her bond-mate wrecked the corridors going from the West Wing to the North Tower with his inability to move in a straight line.”  
  
Ginny snorted. Harry shot her a look. _It’s not funny!_  
  
She smiled sheepishly. _It just sounds like they were drunk,_ she thought. Harry’s look of scorn intensified.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Ginny sobered as quickly as she could.  
  
 _Sobered. Heh.  
  
Shush!_  
  
Dumbledore looked down at the journal. “The point is, Thaon describe what he thought were the four levels of soul bond. The first level appeared to be that of a pair that simply clicked without any effort but could separate for years at a time. The second was the same though the separation period seemed to be shortened to months. The third he thought of as his niece and her squire; very emotionally connected, and able to separate for only a few weeks, though it eventually shortened to a few days. They experienced physical and some emotional pain when forced to separate, but again, the shortest was only a few days. The fourth level was the same as the two in the experiment, those who could not bear mere hours away from each other.”  
  
Dumbledore met Harry’s eyes. “When was the last time you had physical contact with Ginny?”  
  
“Around 1:30,” he answered.  
  
“And when did the claustrophobia first begin?”  
  
“Errr…” Harry said. “Around 9 or 9:30, I think.”  
  
“Eight hours,” Dumbledore murmured. “This… might prove to be problematic…”  
  
“How so?” Remus asked.  
  
“If they begin to feel violently ill after eight hours of separation, then their sleep would be disturbed,” Dumbledore said. “For their age, they require up to 10 hours of sleep each night, and now they cannot leave each other for more than eight.”  
  
“They won’t get enough sleep?” Sirius said. He sounded a little incredulous. “This worries you more than the fact that for some reason they have eight hours apart when a few days ago they could handle more than two weeks?”  
  
Dumbledore frowned at Sirius. “Their immediate physical health is my first concern. What caused this must come after.”  
  
Sirius clenched his jaw and did not reply. Dumbledore looked back to Madam Pomfrey. “Please, allow the beds to be moved closer together so they may have contact as they sleep. Clearly, they need to learn to hold hands now.”  
  
All eyes snapped to Harry and Ginny and their clasped hands. Harry turned pink.  
  
“Of course,” Madam Pomfrey said. She flicked her wand and Harry’s bed shifted a foot to the left. It was easier to hold Ginny’s hand now.  
  
“Thank you,” Dumbledore said. “They should remain here tonight, and in the morning we will discuss the problem of their sleep.” He inclined his head to Madam Pomfrey and turned to leave.  
  
“Wait!” Ginny said.  
  
Dumbledore stopped.  
  
“I had another dream,” she blurted.  
  
Dumbledore’s eyebrows knit together. Sirius, Remus and the matron looked confused.  
  
“What occurred in your dream?” the Headmaster asked.  
  
“A man is trying to break a book,” Ginny began. “It has a spell of some kind that will help You-Know-Who.”  
  
The other three adults looked to Dumbledore with greater confusion. Dumbledore looked apprehensive.  
  
“He is trying to break a book?” Dumbledore asked.  
  
“A code,” Ginny corrected herself. “It’s encoded, and the writer made the code extremely difficult to break so he’s worried that he won’t be able to get it in time for — for something.”  
  
“I see,” Dumbledore mused. “Was there anything else?”  
  
“It was written in a weird language,” Ginny said. “I heard him muttering something about it being so weird that he could almost guess where the author was from.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly. “It was a specific dialect.”  
  
“Yes,” Ginny said.  
  
“And that is all you remember?”  
  
Ginny bit her lip. “He — he has to do this,” she said. “He’s trying to save something precious to him. He feels guilty, but he has to do it. Whatever it is.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded again. “Thank you, Miss Weasley. I will work on this new information.” 


	23. Happy Birthday, Say Goodbye to Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Goblet of Fire Part Ten  
Happy Birthday, Say Goodbye To Childhood  
Ginny**

  
  
Eight hours.  
  
Ginny was at first worried that this would seriously interrupt their sleeping schedules. Dumbledore was right; they both needed around 10 hours of sleep each night and she did enjoy sleep, however he underestimated how much time they spent on homework. As it was, both of them usually went to bed after eleven and Ginny woke Harry up before seven. So they didn’t need the specially charmed watches that Dumbledore gave them except on the weekends, but even then they went to bed after eleven and Harry woke Ginny up before eight. The watches themselves were good as Harry’s had broken when he went into the lake and Ginny didn’t have one. They were charmed to detect the presence of the other watch, and when they parted, the watches began a countdown of seven and a half hours, so that when it reached the end, they began vibrating and beeping loudly until they were reunited. One night, Harry left his watch in his room all day and Ginny’s went off in the middle of dinner. Ginny threatened to use a Permanent Sticking Charm on Harry’s watch in the future, but he promised not to leave it off again. Fortunately, their internal clocks did a good job of getting them up before the watches went off.  
  
And so proceeded March. They got enough sleep to get by, and every Saturday afternoon they escaped Hermione’s homework plans to nap for a few hours. It helped that Harry didn’t have Quidditch practice and Oliver getting him up at four a.m. every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.  
  
April was no different. The weather got better, brighter and warmer, and the homework level got drearier, heavier, and harder. Ginny began looking forward more and more to her naps on Saturday with Harry, sheltered under a willow tree near the lake. Snape got more and more irritable, and began giving out weekly detentions again. Ginny thought he was picking on her and Harry more than the other Gryffindors, but the man had no regular schedule as to who got detention each lesson so she couldn’t prove it.  
  
In Defense, Remus and Sirius had fallen into a smooth, synchronous pattern, demonstrating the new counter-hexes and jinxes and mock dueling each other with ease. Remus kept the classes on focus and Sirius kept it interesting. Ginny had learned more than twenty new defensive spells that semester alone, and each of them she was sure would be useful. Remus even taught his female students gentle but effective spells to use against over-insistent males. Ginny was sure she saw more than two girls look relieved at the end of that lesson.  
  
While Potions was getting worse and Defense was getting awesome, Ginny’s other classes were getting tougher. In Transfiguration, McGonagall was giving them not only spells but the theory behind them. While she found magical theory fascinating, Ginny didn’t particularly enjoy sitting through an hour of why the Color Changing charm worked differently on animals than humans. Hermione, of course, found it enrapturing. They were getting the same deal in Charms, though the theory in this case was a little more interesting. It was a good thing Hermione was taking extensive notes because even Ginny found it hard to write down every point the professor made, and Ron used lecture hours as naptime.  
  
In Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid took ‘care’ to a new level by giving them all a new pet to keep for a week long assignment. Ginny’s wasn’t too bad, Hagrid gave her a Crup — a Terrier like creature with a forked tail — but others had worse pets. Draco Malfoy got a Jarvey, which Harry, Ron, and Ginny all found absolutely hilarious. The ferret looking creature even begun a huge list of foul names to describe the blonde Slytherin the instant Hagrid had turned away. Malfoy was disgusted, to say the least. Ron only stopped laughing when Hagrid gave him a caged Clabbert.  
  
Arithmency got into more difficult equations. Divination made less and less sense as Trelawney became less and less focused. Astronomy lessons seemed to get longer as Professor Sinestra began teaching them the legends behind each constellation. Only the random showers accredited to April made her lessons halt.  
  
April ended finally and Ginny suddenly realized that she was nearly fifteen the way one does when childhood is nearly spent. It was both sobering and almost depressing as it meant that she was nearly grown up, nearly an adult. When she looked in the mirror on the morning of May first, she wondered when it was that she had gotten tall? When had she gotten hips? When was it that she had begun filling her shirts more? It wasn’t that she hadn’t really noticed these things before, but they had never really registered. Really, what was the matter was that only a few months ago she had been slim, not curvy. She had had rounder cheeks, lighter eyes; even her hands now looked somehow older. Not only was she getting older, but she was growing up. She wasn’t a kid anymore.  
  
And it wasn’t just her. As she walked down to the common room, she slowed to watch Harry and Ron talking with Neville. When had Ron gotten taller than Harry? When had Harry gotten taller than Neville? When had Neville gotten taller than her? How did she not notice Ron’s broader shoulders, Harry’s squarer jaw? She should have seen that even Neville was thinning out. Ginny walked over to them and Ron and Neville waved before continued their talk. Harry took her hand and kissed her knuckles briefly before going back to the conversation. Ginny studied Harry’s hand in hers, how the bones were more present against his skin and how his forearm was lined with soft, pale hairs. Her gaze drifted up his arm, to his shoulders and how his chest seemed more proportionate to them even though they’d gotten wider. How had she not noticed that they were growing up?  
  
This strange, sad but somehow warm feeling remained with her during the week, and she found herself studying Harry’s frame more and more often. He’d caught her a couple times and blushed, but never asked why until the night before her birthday. They were seated on a couch in the common room watching Ron spectacularly beat Hermione at chess, or rather Harry was. Ginny was staring into deep space, watching his fingers lazily caress the back of her hand.  
  
 _What’s up?_ he asked.  
  
Ginny shrugged. _I don’t know. I’m just…  
  
A few hours away from turning fifteen?_  
  
Ginny nodded. _That’s it. I feel like I’m growing up._  
  
Harry chuckled softly. _Well, you are!  
  
Shut up, that’s not what I meant.  
  
You’re missing the good old days when you could make mud pies in the backyard and your mum would only scold you because you tracked muck all over the kitchen and when you could act like nothing in the world was going wrong because you thought that was true._  
  
Ginny nodded. _We’re growing up.  
  
But we’re not grown up yet,_ Harry thought. _We’ve got a few years before your mum starts casually mentioning every Sunday dinner that she likes the idea of grandchildren._  
  
Ginny groaned. _Oh, lord above, let that never happen. Let Bill hurry up and get married and have children quickly so she never pesters me!_  
  
Harry laughed softly again.  
  
“Harry, you’re laughing aloud again,” Ron murmured as he took Hermione’s last rook.  
  
Harry waved dismissively in Ron’s direction. “Leave us alone and checkmate Hermione already.”  
  
Ron looked like he was going to reply, but Hermione moved her bishop and he had to stop so he could explain for the third time that she couldn’t because it would put her king in check from his queen.  
  
 _I think you’ll be okay,_ Harry thought. _You’re only turning fifteen, after all._  
  
Ginny bit her lip but nodded. _Can I just stop? Can we just go back to being kids again so we can randomly fall asleep together all the time and not have anyone freak out cause I might magically sprout a freshly grown human?_  
  
Harry had to bite his finger to keep from laughing. _Err, I’m not sure how we would go about doing that…  
  
I mean, Mum sent me a letter last week regaling how often her birth control potions failed on her and that she really wants me to be careful but she worded everything like an eight year old was going to read it. It was ridiculous and horrible at the same time.  
  
I’m going to think of something different now.  
  
She literally told me that she doubted infertility potions worked with Weasley genes!_ Ginny thought. _Though I find that reasonable, couldn’t she wait until I was a little older? Like twenty-five? I might be better about hearing that stuff then!_  
  
Harry surreptitiously crossed his legs. Ginny knit her eyebrows a second then snorted. Harry smacked her arm. _Shut up,_ he thought. _This is not funny.  
  
It so is. Guys’ biology is ridiculous.  
  
Well, you shed your uterus every month!  
  
More like the lining of it, but that’s so not as silly as random —_  
  
“What?” Hermione shouted. “I thought I took your knight!”  
  
“No, that was my white bishop,” Ron said. “Another game?”  
  
Ginny shook her head as Hermione pouted over the checkmate. Honestly, Ron could have beaten her over half an hour ago. He was going soft in his old age.  
  
 _Your brother is barely five minutes older than you._  
  
Ginny smacked Harry’s chest, then lay her head on it and closed her eyes.  
  
Her birthday was a Wednesday, and unfortunately full of her least favorite classes. The morning started with a double period of Potions, after lunch she had to part ways with her boyfriend and twin for Arithmency, then the day ended with a daytime session of Astronomy, where Professor Sinestra quizzed them about the moons of Saturn.  
  
At the end of the day, she and Ron dropped into chairs near the fire and faced Harry and Hermione, who were bearing gifts; in Hermione’s case like it was a box of Blast-Ended Skrewts.  
  
“We would like to wish you a formal happy birthday,” Harry said. Ginny rolled her eyes; Harry had been saying — no, shouting happy birthday in her mind all day. Hermione nodded, but she wouldn’t look at Ron. Ginny glanced at her brother, who was staring at his lap.  
  
 _Git,_ she thought.  
  
 _Hush!_ Harry scolded. He cleared his throat and held up the two boxes in his hands. “So, I’ll go first. Here.” He handed one box to Ron and one to Ginny.  
  
Ginny elbowed Ron. He looked up, then narrowed his eyes. She narrowed hers. Ron held the box to his ear and gave it a light shake. Ginny ran her fingers over the wrapping.  
  
Then they ripped through the paper.  
  
“Oh, mate!” Ron said, almost in a moan, as he lifted out the pristine, soft leather Keepers gloves. “How’d you know?”  
  
“You tacked that page from Quidditch Monthly to your bed,” Harry said, quirking an eyebrow. “I figured that was for a reason.”  
  
Ginny shook her head as she opened her box. Then she gasped. “Why, you little —”  
  
Harry cut her off with a laugh. “You like ‘em?”  
  
Ginny narrowed her gaze at him. “I did my best to keep that from your sticky little fingers,” she said. “How’d you figure it out?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “I guess I’m just good at reading your mind.”  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, then peered into her box. “Did you get us the same thing?” he said.  
  
Ginny shook her head. “You have Keepers gloves. I have Chasers gloves.” She picked up one and pressed it to her face, inhaling the sweet smell of the leather. “You really are good at reading my mind,” she said to Harry. Even Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry grinned and shrugged.  
  
Hermione cleared her throat. Ginny set down the glove and looked at her. She held up the two boxes in her hand, but she was still looking downward. One box was aimed towards Ginny, and the other wasn’t.  
  
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Ron said quietly.  
  
“Take it,” she said. “Before I change my mind.”  
  
Ginny took hers, because it was Ron’s pride between him and Hermione just then. She looked at Ron expectantly. Ron worried the edge of his lip as he thought. Hermione glanced up, her face turned pink, and she looked down at her lap again. Ron took the box.  
  
Ginny smirked. Ron elbowed her this time, but she only smirked more. They ripped away the paper and opened the inner boxes.  
  
“Oh, Hermione!” Ginny said. “This is lovely!” She lifted the thick book from its box; its brown surface was embroidered, and small pieces colored glass and seashells were pressed into it. There was a tree, with leaves made of blue and green and yellow glass, but its trunk was made of thread words; sweet, precious, kind, important, warm, and other beautiful adjectives. The shells formed the soil the roots were planted in, and pink, red and orange glass made up a sun-streaked sky behind the tree.  
  
“That’s really pretty,” Harry agreed. “Where’d you get it?”  
  
“A friend of my mum’s makes them,” Hermione said. “Special journals, dream diaries, yearly planners, things like that.”  
  
Ginny reached across the couch to hug her friend. “Thank you,” she said.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Hermione murmured. Ginny looked to Ron, who still hadn’t unwrapped his present.  
  
“Go on,” she said.  
  
Ron tore at a corner. He glanced at Hermione, then slit open the end of the paper. He unwrapped the box and opened it. He lifted up and shook out a red and gold scarf with ends folded over to make pockets, tasseled, and his name stitched into one pocket.  
  
“Uh, wow,” he said.  
  
“I meant to give it to you at Christmas, but…” Hermione trailed off. Then she stood up and hurried away up the stairs to the girls’ dorm. Ron half rose from his seat, then sunk back down. He looked down at the scarf in his lap with an expression that wasn’t quite as happy as it had been a moment before.  
  
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered.  
  
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Ginny replied.  
  
Ron shot her a dirty look. “Oh, shut up.” He stuffed the scarf into the box, grabbed his new Quidditch gloves, then strode upstairs to his dorm.  
  
“I’ll talk to him,” Harry said. “You talk to Hermione?”  
  
Ginny nodded. “I’ll come back down to say goodnight,” she said.  
  
“Good. I’ve got one more thing for you.”  
  
Ginny smiled as she picked up her things, then pecked his cheek and started up the stairs. She found Hermione sitting on her bed, knitting what looked like a hat but it was very lumpy so she wasn’t sure. She sat down on her own bed, setting the book and the gloves beside her, and watched her friend knit.  
  
“I’m best with scarves,” Hermione mumbled after a minute.  
  
“Did you make the one you gave to Ron?”  
  
She nodded. “Took me three months.”  
  
Ginny pulled her legs up onto the bed beneath her. “It was very lovely.”  
  
Hermione nodded again. “I wanted to give it to him at Christmas, but then the thing at the Ball happened and I never did. I enchanted the name into the pocket, so I couldn’t take it out and give it to someone else. I figured it would just be best to give it to him.”  
  
“Ron feels horrible, you know.”  
  
“Well, so did I,” Hermione grumbled.  
  
“He’s thick, ‘Mione,” Ginny said. “He doesn’t know anything about girls, and he does like you, which makes it worse.”  
  
“Well, screw him, then,” Hermione sighed. “He’s been so clueless for months.”  
  
“He’s been clueless for years,” Ginny corrected. “You knew that; you know it. Never stopped you from falling for him.”  
  
Hermione looked down at the lumpy hat in her lap. “God,” she mumbled. “This is horrible.”  
  
Ginny slipped off of her bed and sat beside her friend. She wrapped her arms around and rested her head on her shoulder. “I know, luv.”  
  
“Your boyfriend can read your mind,” Hermione hissed.  
  
“My brother can’t.”  
  
Hermione fell silent.  
  
 _You two all right?  
  
Hush, Harry, we hate men right now.  
  
I’ll call back later._  
  
Hermione dabbed at her eyes with the hat. “He really is very immature,” she said, softly, but there was a hint of a smile in her voice suddenly.  
  
“He’s a fifteen year old boy.”  
  
“And silly.”  
  
“I refer you to his age.”  
  
“And he doesn’t take homework seriously.”  
  
“I refer you to his age, once again.”  
  
“But he is sweet.”  
  
“I refer you to his upbringing.”  
  
“And he’s funny.”  
  
“I refer you to his family in general.”  
  
Hermione nodded slowly. “I’ll take your referrals.”  
  
Ginny smiled at her. “There you go. Better?”  
  
“A bit.”  
  
“He likes the scarf,” Ginny assured her. “And I bet he feels even worse because he could have used it back in January after the Skrewts ate his Gryffindor scarf.”  
  
Hermione smirked a little. “Probably.”  
  
 _Better?  
  
Yeah,_ Ginny thought. _Ron still beating himself up?  
  
Yep.  
  
Let him keep going for now. He’s got thinking to do._  
  
She felt Harry sigh and his mind drift away from the situation between their best friends. _So, can I give you that other thing now?_  
  
“Harry’s got one other thing he wants to give me,” Ginny said. “You okay if I go chat with him for a minute?”  
  
Hermione nodded. “I’m fine, Ginny, really.”  
  
Ginny wasn’t sure Hermione was telling the truth or not, but she patted her shoulder and got up. “I’ll be back in a bit.”  
  
Hermione readjusted the yarn in her lap and began clicking the needles again. Ginny left the room and walked downstairs. Harry was sitting in one of the widest armchairs, holding a small box tied shut with a bit of ribbon. Ginny dropped down beside him and laid her head on his shoulder.  
  
“Ronald,” she muttered.  
  
“I know,” he sighed. “He’s upstairs grumbling about everything. ‘Specially Krum.”  
  
“He can’t blame Krum,” Ginny snorted. “It’s his own damn fault.”  
  
Harry shrugged. He held out the box. Ginny took it and pulled the bow out of place, then opened it.  
  
“Aww,” she said, lifting out the thin silver band. It had small emeralds set in the face of it, and music notes engraved in between each stone. “Are you proposing, Harry?”  
  
“It’s just your birthstone,” he said, shaking his head. “I figured I was running out of nice, special things to give you by excluding rings.”  
  
“You were excluding rings?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.  
  
“Well, I didn’t want anyone to assume things, did I?” Harry said. “We’re teenagers.”  
  
Ginny pecked his cheek. “Thank you, Harry. I’m going to have to start giving you nicer things.”  
  
“Or I could just stop giving you nice stuff,” he joked. “I’m not made of gold, of course.”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes, recalling the image of the thousands of galleons piled in his family vault. “Of course not.”  
  
Harry kissed her quickly. “I just liked that ring,” he said.  
  
“I like it too,” she said. “So much that I will wear it every day we don’t have Potions or Care of Magical Creatures.”  
  
“That’s a wise plan,” he said.  



	24. The Third Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

Chapter Twenty-Four, The Goblet of Fire Part Eleven  
The Third Task  
Harry

  
  
May was not as long as it should have been. It seemed like once Ginny and Ron’s birthday passed, the hours blended together seamlessly and the days took two-thirds of the time they were meant to.  
  
Most of May he remembered as time spent in the Defense classroom. Remus had them mock dueling each other every week with a new hex or jinx. Most days Harry fought Ron or Ginny, but sometimes he dueled Hermione or Neville. Once, in the first week of June, Sirius asked for him and Malfoy to demonstrate that week’s hex in front of the class. Having to stand in front of the entire class was made better only by the fact that his instinctive Shield charm repelled the hex so perfectly that it hit Malfoy.  
  
The Saturday after the Shield charm incident, Harry and Ginny were taking their weekly nap by the lake, having just written three essays for three various subjects and escaped Ron and Hermione’s next big bicker. Harry couldn’t remember what it had been about, so as he slept, his mind decided to try and figure it out. In his dream, he dreamt that he and Ginny were in the common room watching their two friends fight. Because he couldn’t remember the nature of the fight, every time one of the two said something referring to the cause of the argument, his mind replaced it with “Snarglepod.” Harry couldn’t imagine why.  
  
“You said Snarglepod!” Hermione cried.  
  
“No, you said Snarglepod,” Ron pointed out. “Does anything make sense in Harry’s mind?”  
  
“No, never,” Hermione agreed for once. “But the Snarglepod was with you, it was your Snarglepod that caused the Snarglepod!”  
  
“Hermione, just kiss the damned Snarglepod goodbye because it is gone,” Ron retorted.  
  
“Well, I’d very much rather kiss you than a Snarglepod,” Hermione snapped.  
  
“Fine, then kiss me!”  
  
“Well, maybe I will!”  
  
Harry clapped his hands over his eyes suddenly and hissed in protest as they grabbed each other’s faces and began some strange dance with their lips.  
  
 _Is this what Ron feels like every time I kiss you?_ Harry asked Ginny.  
  
 _I imagine so, yes._  
  
Harry lowered his hands, but the scenery had changed.  
  
They were asleep, but at the same time, they weren’t. They were sitting beneath the tree’s branches, watching three children play in the shallows of the lake. Two of them had black hair, slicked back by water but messy still, and the third, the only girl, had two long brilliant red braids falling down her back. They were throwing water at her and the smaller of the boys was creating bubbles with his hands. Ginny smiled contentedly at the children and closed her eyes. Harry kissed her forehead and chuckled as the girl caused the lake to send a tidal wave over the two boys.  
  
“No, no, you’re doing it all wrong!”  
  
Harry lazily drifted his gaze from the three children to a clump of trees nearby. He blinked, and he was standing in a clearing, Ginny at his side, and there was a young girl, maybe three or four, sitting in the middle. Her cheeks were round and rosy, her hair was pure white and tied into pig-tails, and her dress was pale yellow covered in grass stains.  
  
“Wrong, I tell you!” the girl shouted, being rather eloquent for a toddler. The object of her frustration blinked and squawked. It was a raven or a crow, Harry couldn’t tell.  
  
“You should introduce a new person, not make one of them nearly drown!” the girl yelled. “Jealousy is much more interesting than a near death experience.”  
  
The bird cawed loudly.  
  
The little girl crossed her arms over her chest and pouted violently. Her eyes landed on Harry and then Ginny, and a wicked grin instantly replaced her pout. “Oh, look, Crow!” she squealed. She pushed herself up and tottered across the grass towards them. She grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him back to the bird, which he now supposed was a crow. “We have guests.” The little girl grabbed Ginny and pulled them both onto the ground.  
  
The crow eyed them and cawed.  
  
“Er…” Harry said.  
  
“Oh, that’s mighty interesting,” the child said. “And you, dear?”  
  
Ginny frowned at the child. “Who are you?”  
  
The girl smiled brightly. “I’m me, and me is I.”  
  
“That does not make sense.”  
  
“I am you, but you are not me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“In the end, you all die.”  
  
Ginny spluttered. “What the hell?”  
  
The little girl did her best to look angelic. “See? I am me, and me is I.”  
  
Harry and Ginny exchanged glances. He shrugged. She scowled.  
  
The crow cawed.  
  
“Yes, you’re quite right, Crow,” the girl said. “We should drink the tea soon or it will grow cold. But where did I put the sugar?”  
  
Harry was about to say they actually would need tea to drink any of it, except there was a gaily painted cup perched on a saucer in his hand.  
  
“That wasn’t there a moment ago,” he said.  
  
The girl spooned a cube of sugar into her tea and sipped it. “Oh, no, much too sweet.” She pitched the cup over her shoulder, then a new cup appeared sitting on her palm. She took a taste of the sugarless tea and smiled. “Perfect.”  
  
Ginny furrowed her brow at Harry. “The hell…” she mumbled.  
  
“NO!” The little girl reached out and bopped Ginny on the nose, startling her. “Bad language, bad Ginny. We do not curse.”  
  
“How do you know my name?” Ginny demanded.  
  
“What’s the magic word?” the little girl asked, taking another sip.  
  
“Err, please?”  
  
“NO!” The girl shouted, and bopped Ginny on the nose again. “Never mind.”  
  
Ginny was bewildered. So was Harry. The little girl grinned angelically at them, then turned back to the crow. “Now, as I was saying, what you should do is take that lovely little porcelain doll that’s with that boy and plant seeds of desire in her for one of the two, whichever one is male, and then kill the boy.”  
  
The crow cawed.  
  
“No, don’t kill the male, kill the useless pretty boy!” the little girl yelled again. “My word, you are so belligerent, Crow!”  
  
The crow cocked its head at Harry as if to say: “Women.”  
  
The girl sipped her tea, smacked her lips, then tossed the cup over her shoulder to join its fellow. “Kill the pretty boy, make the porcelain doll like the one that’s male, then make another person like the one that’s not male. It’s that simple.”  
  
The crow ruffled its feathers.  
  
The girl glared at him. “They’re not ready for _Felix Commisurra_ ; don’t nearly kill the one that’s male again.”  
  
The crow squawked. The little girl swung a fist at it, but the bird danced out of the way, still squawking. The girl gasped, turned pink, and then glared. “Bad Crow, bad Crow, we do not use language! And later, love, we have guests.”  
  
The crow landed on Harry’s knee and sighed. Or, Harry thought he sighed. Was it possible for a bird to sigh?  
  
The girl tapped her chin and gazed into the distance. “Then again… _Felix Commisurra_ would rush many of my sisters’ plans… It would cause great… discomfort.”  
  
The crow cawed. The girl smiled. “Then it’s settled. Kill the one that’s male but not completely, just a little bit, then _Felix Commisurra_ will occur prematurely and wreck my sisters’ plans. Their pathways will twist and jumble, ending in, as I can see, seven different ways to die and twice the end of the world. However, there will still be at least one path that provides life, but at such a great cost. So many will die…”  
  
The crow croaked and pecked at Harry’s jeans. The girl smirked. “Yes, all of those deaths will be spectacular. I’m sure my sister has great plans for each of them! Yet we will dash it all by merely provoking _Felix Commisurra_.”  
  
With that, the little girl pushed herself up and snapped her fingers. There was a sudden puff of purple smoke and the little girl was suddenly not little at all. She was tall, perhaps six feet, with a slender frame and still pale skin. Her white hair was the only thing paler. Her dress was still girlish and grass-stained, but it somehow befitted her. She raised her bare forearm and the crow took off from Harry’s knee, then landed on her arm. The crow squeezed its sharp talons, and Harry winced in sympathy for the girl, but she seemed not to have noticed.  
  
“And off we go!” she cried. “Time to provide Abraham with his final key so that the little beast may provoke _Felix Commisurra_.” She snapped her fingers again, and again appeared the puff of smoke, but not before Harry noticed that the crow’s talons had broken the girl’s skin. She was bleeding, but her blood was not red. It was gold.  
  
“Harry James Potter, you listen to me right now!”  
  
Harry groaned and blinked slowly. Hermione’s face came slowly into view; she was standing bent in front of him with her fists resting on her hips. Harry had a sudden flash of Mrs. Weasley doing the same thing.  
  
“You have mountains of homework still to complete!” Hermione snapped. “How can you nap so nonchalantly with so much work left to be done?”  
  
“Practice?” he suggested, yawning as he did so. He poked Ginny gently in the ribs; she caught his finger and squeezed it tightly.  
  
“Ronald Weasley I will break your finger,” she growled.  
  
“I’m not Ron, love,” Harry said. Ginny immediately released his finger and grabbed his whole hand.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” she grumbled. “That stupid little girl’s bleeding gold.”  
  
Harry frowned. “Yeah, that was weird.”  
  
“What?” Hermione said. “Never mind; just come on, it’s almost dinner and you’ve got a whole lot of homework, the both of you.”  
  
“It’s not that late,” Ginny said as she stretched open her mouth in a cat-like yawn. “We only just fell asleep ten minutes ago. You and Ron were arguing over the Snarglepod.”  
  
“What?” Hermione repeated.  
  
“Was that you or me?” Harry asked. “I can’t remember.”  
  
Hermione spluttered. “How — what — Snarglepod?”  
  
Ginny straightened her spine, lifting her head off Harry’s shoulder, and stretched her arms above her head. “We couldn’t remember what you and Ron were fighting about this time, so every time you had to say something specific to the fight, you said Snarglepod.”  
  
Hermione stared at them. “I give up,” she muttered, throwing her hands up in the air and turning away.  
  
“Are we really awake?” Harry murmured.  
  
“Hermione doesn’t give up…” Ginny replied.  
  
Hermione turned back to them in resignation. “No, you caught me. You’re not awake.”  
  
Hermione was not as tall as she seemed, Harry knew. Nor was the sky that dark. Hermione’s skin paled to gray and so did the trees and the grass. Slowly, everything withered. Harry gripped Ginny’s shoulders. Hermione wasn’t Hermione. She was tall and masculine and —  
  
Bald?  
  
This broad beast of a man stood before them, his eyes and lips completely black and his head shiningly bald in the sun’s wane light. The man smiled with those black lips and bared pointed teeth.  
  
“What is really the difference between waking and dreaming?” the man rumbled. “Reality is no real thing; it is conceived at dawn and aborted at dusk, never given any real chance to live. So then where is the line between your pale pathetic reality and the truth of your dreams? Answer me that, oh great one.”  
  
“What?” Ginny spluttered.  
  
The man smirked. “Ah, of course. Your mind is that of two children. What a shame. The sisters chose a poor receptacle for your power.”  
  
Harry meant to draw his wand, but something in the back of his mind told him not to. Instead, he raised a hand, palm held outward and smiled at the man. “This is not your place,” he said calmly. “You do not belong here.”  
  
“Oh, come now, don’t be that way,” the man chuckled. “You allowed dear and dumb luck to remain. Why shan’t you treat me such the same way?”  
  
Harry lowered his hand and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Because, they did not make sense and therefore did not harm me. You make sense, and I want to know why you refer to us as ‘great one,’ when clearly we are two. But if I were to ask you, that would not end well.”  
  
The man pondered this, it seemed. He finally smiled and bowed low to them. “Very well, I concede. Your friend with the bushy hair really is here to wake you, but you do not have that much homework left. I believe it is merely an exercise from Professor Sinestra on the movements of Saturn in relation to Venus. Before I leave, I desire to frustrate my wife more than I already have so I must tell you: There is a traitor in your midst. I will not indicate a gender, as that would be too obvious, but this traitor has everything to gain and nothing to lose. They have no mercy and too much rage. Chaos has filled their dreams with his element and Night has not noticed their anger. So I now bid you farewell, oh great one. I would wish you luck, but that never ends well.”  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny, confused, but then the man was gone. Instead, Hermione was once again standing over him, her fists on her hips and a sour expression on her face.  
  
“You’ve been sleeping for over three hours,” she said. “It’s nearly dinner.”  
  
Harry rubbed his eyes. Then he slapped his cheek. Hermione jumped back, startled. “What did you do that for?” she said.  
  
“I wanted to make sure I was awake,” he mumbled. “Ow.”  
  
“We’re awake,” Ginny said. She locked eyes with him and furrowed her brow.  
  
 _What the hell just happened?_  
  
Harry’s gaze drifted to the shore of the lake, where the water was rising and falling very slowly, like the breath of a person asleep. _I don’t know._  
  
Hermione ushered them to dinner where they both pecked at their food, conversing mentally about their shared dream. It had been very strange, and it worried Harry. He kept saying that they ought to tell Dumbledore, but Ginny was hesitant.  
  
 _We don’t know how to explain it,_ she kept saying.  
  
 _But something was wrong,_ he kept telling her. _Who were those people? Why did that man call us great one? Why was that girl talking about dolls and pretty boys?  
  
Because she was a child,_ Ginny replied.  
  
 _Her blood was gold,_ Harry countered.  
  
 _So? We were dreaming. It meant nothing.  
  
Oh, right, because none of your other dreams ever meant anything. You never dreamt that you might drown, or that I’d fight a dragon, or even that I’d be stuck in a huge Tournament where I could die each minute.  
  
Sarcasm does not help.  
  
Neither does silence. _  
  
Ginny did not reply.  
  
They did not go to Dumbledore that night. Nor the next, when in someone’s subconscious a sphinx tried to eat one of them. Not even the next night, when a giant bird landed in Harry’s dorm and told him that he was meant to be sleeping in the tower, even though Harry was already asleep in Gryffindor tower.  
  
It was June 6th, and while the rest of the castle was preparing for exams, Harry was preparing for the final task. As they had with the first task, he, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all met in any empty classroom and practiced spells. Harry mock-dueled with either Ron or Hermione every week. He did not duel Ginny, for they had found that when they tried, they could never gain any ground because they kept seeing the other’s next move and preventing it. On the following Sunday, Remus and Sirius stopped by to quiz Harry on his skills. Remus staged a duel with him, and he would have won if it hadn’t been for Sirius adding a hex every few minutes. His reasoning was that in a real fight, there would be others around him and stray hexes were likely to come his way. The only problem with that was he only aimed his ‘stray’ hexes at Harry, and never Remus.  
  
Monday the 12th, Bagman cornered Harry in the Great Hall at breakfast. He gave Ginny a cheerful hullo and told Harry that he needed to be at the Quidditch pitch by four thirty that afternoon for his clue before the third task. His last class was Herbology that day, so he did not have to run to the pitch to meet Bagman and the other champions. He found Krum and Diggory already there, but Fleur and Bagman were late. Fleur arrived five minutes after Harry and Bagman was there right after her.  
  
“Right-o,” he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “If you would please, step forward.”  
  
The four of them looked at him strangely. Then Diggory took a step, stumbled, and fell face-forward into the grass. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a snigger. Fleur tsked and Krum frowned. Bagman chuckled as Diggory pushed himself up, ran into something else, and fell onto a hedge that had appeared from nowhere. Harry’s eyes followed the hedge and he gasped. The entire pitch was spread with them: Almost four feet tall and wild-looking, they twisted and turned and wrapped around each other all over the pitch.  
  
“What the —” Diggory said softly.  
  
“It is a maze,” said Krum.  
  
“Yes, indeed it is!” Bagman crowed gleefully. “And there is your clue; don’t worry, Mr. Diggory, once the task is finished we will restore your pitch to rights,” Bagman added upon seeing the horrified look on Diggory’s face. “Hagrid is growing them; should be about fifteen feet in the air by the day of the task, June 24th. The object will be to reach the center and the prize within.”  
  
Harry nodded slowly, his eyes traveling across the pitch slowly. A maze? A small smile curled his lips. Fifteen feet tall would not be much of a problem. He could just ask Ginny to fly above him in his Invisibility Cloak and give him directions.  
  
 _I will do no such thing,_ Ginny thought.  
  
 _Why not?_ Harry whined mentally. _It’s perfect!  
  
Because that would be cheating!  
  
Fine._  
  
He’d try harder later. Possibly with the promise of several long kisses.  
  
 _I don’t break that easily, Potter._  
  
He didn’t reply to her as Bagman was speaking again. “The maze will be filled with obstacles, each designed to prevent you reaching the center. You will have to be on your guard constantly.”  
  
Harry nodded, as did the others. Bagman clapped Diggory and Krum on the shoulder with a grin, gave Harry a pat and Fleur a gentle touch, then began walking back to the castle. Harry glanced at the other four, thought about waving, didn’t, and started following Bagman.  
  
 _You are so anti-social,_ Ginny thought.  
  
 _Well, I’ve got this voice in my head that provides almost all the companionship I need.  
  
Oh, well thank you — wait, almost?  
  
Well, I do like hanging out with Ron and Neville and such.  
  
Oh, of course._  
  
Harry climbed the front steps and felt a sudden wind behind him. He glanced around, wondering why it was so cold in June, then dismissed it and entered the castle. He didn’t see Bagman, assumed that the man had headed for the nearest Floo, and started up the stairs.  
  
 _What room are you in?_ Harry asked.  
  
 _Second floor, two doors down from Charms.  
  
Down being to the left?  
  
Yep._  
  
Harry climbed the steps without great haste. He was thinking of ways to convince his very beautiful girlfriend to help him cheat.  
  
 _Flattery gets you nowhere, Potter.  
  
Well, it got you calling me by my last name!  
  
That is irrelevant._  
  
Harry chuckled softly. A portrait on his right gave him a bemused look. He averted his eyes and tried not to respond to Ginny aloud.  
  
Harry found Ginny with just Hermione that afternoon; Ron had been detained by Professor McGonagall to scrub desks. Harry wondered if he would find years’ worth of chewing gum under Seamus’s desk.  
  
They practiced for another hour before Ron arrived and another hour and a half before they left for dinner. The news that the third task was a maze filled with obstacles didn’t seem to bother either Ron or Hermione; from Hermione’s point of view it was only more reason to train harder. Ron simply thought that watching the third task was going to be more boring than watching the second.  
  
It seemed to him that there really was little he really could do to prepare for the third task. He would wake up around 6 every morning, get a shower, go to breakfast, go to lessons, have lunch, take more lessons, research more spells and practice them, go to dinner, practice some more, and go to bed. There was little variation in each day, and it seemed to him that they blended together too well. He lost track of the days, and not even the looming third task bothered him. It was just an inevitable thing he would have to do. There was just cold dread rather than panic in him, and it spread to Ginny. They had a calm sort of resignation about the third task. It helped that he finally had a real plan.  
  
As the maze had been growing, Harry had flown over it several times on his broom. He borrowed Colin’s camera and took photographs of it. Then he and Ginny sat down and drew a map of the maze. The night before the task, they flew over it together one last time and finalized the map. Hermione enchanted it to show where Harry was standing while he stood in the maze, Remus taught Harry a spell to track his location, and Ginny promised that if something went wrong she would fly above him with the invisibility cloak. Harry was as prepared as he could be.  
  
That didn’t stop his heart pumping wildly as he left the castle on the morning of the 24th.  
  


HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

  
  
He set down the metal spoon and mopped his brow. It had taken days, weeks, but there it was. His worst nightmare, bubbling and steaming and spewing out a foul smell.  
  
“Is it ready?”  
  
His master’s voice came from behind him. Quickly, he bent into a low bow, averting his eyes from his master’s visage.  
  
“Yes, my lord,” he said in a voice that was hoarse from screaming.  
  
“Good,” his master hissed. “Bring it to the yard; let it boil there as we wait for Potter.”  
  
“Yes, my lord,” he replied. He put out the fire with a flick of his wand and gripped the cauldron’s handles. He felt sure that they were hot since the liquid had been boiling just a moment ago, but the skin of his hands was so destroyed already that he did not care. He lifted it carefully and stepping slowly, he exited the small room and moved through the kitchen to the back door. He blinked in the sunlight for half a moment, then started towards the east and the still rising sun. Once he reached the first of the tombstones he began walking more slowly, reading each stone as he passed it  
  
“Thomas Riddle,” he whispered. “Thomas Riddle.”  
  
He found it; a broad, smooth, white marble block topped by a hooded angel bearing a tall staff. Beside it was the grave of Thomas Riddle Sr., and his wife. A perfect little family. And all of them killed by Thomas Riddle the third.  
  
He conjured a stand and placed the cauldron on it. He lit a fire beneath it. He ran his hands through his hair and said a silent prayer for the world.  
  
Lord Voldemort was coming back.  



	25. Sinister Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Twenty-Five, The Goblet of Fire Part Twelve  
Sinister Voices  
Harry**

  
  
Ginny’s hands were cold as they gripped his hand tightly. Her mind was filled with quiet dread over everything that could go wrong. He tried not to make it worse by echoing her every thought.  
  
On his other side, Remus kept a hand on his shoulder and the other gripping Sirius’s arm. Hermione and Ron walked just behind him, and he could practically hear Hermione’s silent frets. The walk to the Quidditch pitch and the maze hadn’t ever seemed so short, and he was standing in the entrance.  
  
Hermione hugged him, Ron shook his hand, and they went to go get seats. As his guardian, Sirius got to sit in the very front row with the judges, and he had convinced Dumbledore to allow Remus to sit with him. Ginny refused to let go of Harry until absolutely necessary, and Dumbledore had agreed. She would sit with Remus and Sirius near the entrance, and Dumbledore promised that he would call off the task if something went wrong. By wrong, he meant panic and by something he meant the distance between Harry and Ginny. He did not want their minds wreaking havoc among the spectators.  
  
Harry was just grateful he had someone to lean on, as his knees were shaking like twigs.  
  
“Harry, m’boy, good, good,” Bagman said distractedly as he approached them. He absently patted Ginny’s shoulder, probably assuming it was Harry’s, as he stared out at the entrance to the maze. As if it needed more help being spooky, there was thick mist pouring out of it and covering the tops of the hedges. Harry held back a curse; if the mist remained that thick Ginny wouldn’t be able to see him if she decided to do a fly-over.  
  
 _And I won’t,_ she reminded him. _A map is one thing. You made that yourself._  
  
He ignored her and turned back to Bagman. The older wizard glanced down and noticed that it was Ginny’s shoulder rather than his and pulled his hand back. He met Harry’s eyes and gave him a faint smile, then spotted someone else and hurried off. Bagman seemed just as nervous as Harry felt.  
  
“Potter.” Harry turned and saw Professors Moody and Sinestra walking towards him. Sinestra was the one who had spoken. She tipped her hat and said “Good luck.” Moody merely grunted.  
  
He waved to them as they went to find their seats. Remus squeezed his shoulder.  
  
“You’re going to do well,” Sirius said, almost to himself. “You’re going to win.” Harry nodded vaguely. Ginny laid her head on his shoulder and gave his hand a squeeze.  
  
 _Just make sure you have your wand at the ready,_ she thought. _That maze is filled with things very willing to make you their lunch.  
  
That’s a reassuring thought,_ Harry grumbled mentally. Dumbledore waved them forward; he was talking with Minister Fudge bestowed in a bowler hat, Crouch, and Karkaroff.  
  
“… be sure that all the proper charms are in place,” Crouch was saying as they approached. “I do not want something else to go so wrong as it did in the Second Task.”  
  
Ginny pursed her lips scornfully. _Like they couldn’t have simply put Bubble Head Charms on us,_ she thought distastefully. Harry didn’t respond, as Fudge had seemed to suddenly notice him and was beaming fondly at him.  
  
“Harry, dear boy,” he said, stepping forward. “Wonderful to see you; all pumped for the final task, eh?”  
  
Harry wasn’t sure how to respond so he simply smiled and nodded. Fudge beamed wider. “Splendid, splendid.” The Minister’s gaze drifted to Remus and Sirius standing beside them, to Remus’s hand on Harry’s shoulder and Sirius’s arm around Remus. “Black, it is good to see you as well,” Fudge said with well disguised discomfort. He smiled with false geniality and extended a hand. Sirius shook it politely, as did Remus. “I’m glad to see you are up and about,” Fudge continued.  
  
“I’ve been up and about quite frequently,” Sirius said through a tight smile. “I’m assistant Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher here at Hogwarts.”  
  
“Yes, yes, I am aware of that,” Fudge replied. His tone was still masking a great deal of unease. His gaze flicked to Remus again and his smile changed slightly. “It is a good thing to see a schoolboy friendship last so long, yes?”  
  
“Yes, I quite agree,” said Sirius. Harry heard something almost like smugness or amusement in his tone, but he didn’t quite understand why.  
  
Fudge nodded, then turned back to Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Crouch. “Well, it seems to me that one last check of the charms would not be a poor idea. Dumbledore, walk with me?”  
  
Dumbledore inclined his head and fell in step behind Fudge. He caught Harry’s eye for a moment and smiled reassuringly. Harry returned it but without much of the calm. Ginny squeezed his hand again.  
  
Mister Crouch turned his gaze on Harry and Ginny. He gave them a tight lipped smile and then transferred his attention to Remus and Sirius. Harry thought he saw his expression shift and his eyes narrow, but then Crouch had turned and was walking towards the Judges stand. Karkaroff looked very awkward standing there alone, and it seemed he felt that way, for he turned away and headed for the stands.  
  
 _Welp,_ Harry thought.  
  
Ginny kissed his cheek.  
  
“Harry, m’boy, if you’d step over here,” Bagman called. Harry, with reluctance, moved to where Bagman was standing with Fleur, Krum, and Diggory. Ginny remained beside him, as per Dumbledore’s orders.  
  
“Now, I have your last instructions before you enter the maze,” Bagman said. He glanced at Ginny, furrowed his brow, then shrugged and kept on. “First, the points are thus: Miss Delacour, you remain in fourth with 36, Mr. Diggory, you have 74; Mr. Krum you are in second with 77 and Mr. Potter you are in the lead with 79.”  
  
Bagman fixed them with a serious gaze. “These standings do not matter.”  
  
Harry frowned. The four champions exchanged glances of confusion.  
  
“The object of this task is to reach the trophy,” Bagman continued. “I have hidden it in the middle of the maze. The first person to reach it becomes the Tri-Wizard Champion.”  
  
Harry tried not to look happy about that. He had a map.  
  
“Mr. Potter, you shall enter first, followed by Mr. Krum, then Mr. Diggory, and lastly Miss Delacour. Harry, when you first enter you will reach a four-way crossroads. Once you choose your path, it will close behind you, leaving three.”  
  
Harry’s happiness froze. Close behind him? Bagman went on. “Mr. Krum, the same will happen to you and Mr. Diggory. Miss Delacour, once you enter the maze it will be closed to us out here, but there are exits on the other three sides that we will be able to enter through should the need arise. If any of you should find yourself in a situation where you are unable to defend yourself, send red sparks into the air and one of us will come fetch you. You will be removed from the tournament, so I advise you try your best to act on your own.”  
  
“Lastly, the maze is filled with beasts and charms,” Bagman said. “But the maze itself is alive.”  
  
Harry frowned.  
  
“You will frequently find yourself in the position where the way back or the way forward is blocked by the maze itself,” Bagman said. “Once all four of you are inside, the structure of the maze itself will be subject to change.”  
  
 _Bugger,_ Harry thought.  
  
Bagman gripped Diggory and Krum’s shoulders. “Good luck,” he said, and turned away.  
  
Harry met each of the other four’s eyes. Fleur eyed Ginny with curiosity. Ginny raised her eyebrows defiantly.  
  
“Good luck to each of us,” Diggory said, sticking out his hand to Krum. Krum took it hesitantly. They shook, and Diggory offered the same hand to Harry.  
  
They all shook hands with each other, then moved away. Harry went back to where Remus and Sirius were waiting. Sirius pulled Harry into a bear hug.  
  
“Good luck in there, kiddo,” he said, clapping Harry on the back. Harry remembered their dream from two weeks ago and the tall bald man who had said to them: _“I would wish you luck, but that never ends well.”_ He felt suddenly uncomfortable about all the ‘good lucks’ that had been spread that morning. Remus hugged him too, then they stood waiting for Dumbledore and Fudge to return and begin the task.  
  
Five minutes later, they were there. Fudge waved to the crowd as though he were a rock star about to begin a performance before taking a seat in the front row. Four large, round mirrors appeared before the crowd, then an image of each Champion flashed onto each one. Harry glanced up at his, then at his feet, trying to ignore the flush creeping up his neck. He glanced back up at the other three and saw that Fleur had by her side her younger sister and her parents; Krum stood alone, but Diggory had his parents by his side. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory were beaming at everything in sight. Harry looked around at Sirius and Remus, their tense but smiling faces and their arms around each other’s shoulders, then at Ginny whose face was angled towards the ground.  
  
“Welcome!” Bagman’s voice rang through the stadium. “Welcome to the Third and Final Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament! Our champions stand at the ready, eagerly awaiting their entrance to the maze.”  
  
“Speak for yourself,” Harry muttered. Sirius squeezed Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“If you will train your eyes on the mirrors beholding your favorite champion’s image,” Bagman said. “We shall send Mr. Potter into the maze at the sound of the whistle.”  
  
Harry bit his lip, then realized that the entire stadium could see him biting his lip and released it.  
  
“You’re going to do spectacularly,” Remus assured him softly. Harry was glad to see that whatever was capturing his image wasn’t catching any audio.  
  
A piercing whistle broke the air. “Let us wish Mr. Potter good luck!” Bagman cried.  
  
Harry took one step forward, then turned back and grabbed Ginny in a quick but sincere kiss. He heard Bagman’s gasp and awkward laughter, imagined that Ron was yelling “OI! LIPS OFF MY SISTER, POTTER!” and heard a mixture of amusement and disappointment from the crowd (the later likely coming from any women, he thought with slight irritation). He released Ginny and she smiled nervously.  
  
“Good luck, love,” she whispered. He nodded, then walked to the maze entrance.  
  
He stepped inside. He heard the crowd roaring behind him. He saw the four pathways Bagman had mentioned, and chose the center right. Harry turned back and waved to Ginny as the maze grew, blocking the way out. Then there was silence.  
  
Harry slowly lowered his hand. He had a cup to find.  
  
 _The map, remember the map!_ Ginny’s thought came. He smiled; at least the maze didn’t block out her voice. He pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket and glanced around.  
  
 _Krum’s gone in. We can’t see your hands, go on._  
  
Harry began walking as he unfolded his map. He spotted his dot on it, then gave it a quick glance over. The cup was somewhere in the middle, which was northwest of him by the key in the bottom of the map.  
  
 _Bagman’s wondering why you’re looking down._  
  
Harry stuffed the map in his pocket and set his wand in the middle of his palm. “ _Point me_!” he whispered. The wand shuttered and pointed just to his right, directing north. He was currently facing the center, so he would need to head straight.  
  
 _Cedric’s inside._  
  
Harry broke into a run, heading straight down the path. He reached a fork and turned right. He slowed to a jog, wand out and ready.  
  
 _Don’t turn left,_ Ginny thought as he approached another turn. He opened his mind to hear what she was hearing, and caught Bagman saying: “If he turns left, he’ll reach the flock of fire breathing chickens, provided by Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper.”  
  
Harry thought fire-breathing chickens wasn’t all that much, but he didn’t turn. Five minutes later, he was faced with a dead end. He checked Ginny’s eyes before pulling out his map. According to it, there was no dead end but a three-way crossroad. Swearing, he shoved it back in his pocket and turned back. He found a left turn, avoiding fire-breathing chickens, and kept on. He reached two more dead ends, one on his map, one not, and ended up going too far east. He still had not reached any beasts, though that was partly due to Ginny warning him if Bagman mentioned anything, but there should have been something. So far, Ginny had only heard mention of the chickens and a golden mist that made it feel like gravity was reversed. It made him uneasy.  
  
 _This whole damned thing makes us feel uneasy,_ Ginny reminded him. _Check the map again._  
  
Harry reached into his pocket as the hedge to his right rustled. He instead raised his wand, an Impediment Curse on his lips, when Fleur stumbled out of a gap between the hedges, smelling rather horrible.  
  
“ _Oh, mon dieu,_ ” she muttered. “ _Qui les d'enfer envoûte un tas de fourmis to cracher gaz faute?_ ”  
  
She spotted Harry and gave him a look as though she were trying to maintain her dignity. “ _Qu'est-ce que tu regardes_?”  
  
“Err…” he muttered. She mumbled something else in French under her breath, whipped her wand over herself and stalked away, leaving her scent a little cleaner after her charm.  
  
 _I don’t speak French, but I don’t think you should go the way she came,_ Ginny thought cheekily.  
  
 _Oh, shut up,_ he thought back. He kept going. Fleur turned off to the left as soon as she could, but Harry kept going straight until he had to turn, then he turned right.  
  
Which was when he found his first obstacle.  
  
A huge, hairy spider brought its ugly face up to meet him. Harry let out a strangled yelp and jumped back. The spider let out a hideous roar, but the worst thing about it was the smell of its breath. Harry choked, then ducked its madly swinging pincers. He tucked and rolled out of the way, then jumped up and shouted “ _Stupefy!_ ”  
  
The stunning spell merely bounced off the spiders hide.  
  
“Bugger,” he mumbled.  
  
The spider screeched again as it shuffled around to grab him. Harry dodged it and tried to aim for the beast’s underbelly. When his next spell failed, he turned and ran in the opposite direction, hoping that there was some magic keeping the spider in its place. When he glanced over his shoulder and saw it crashing through the hedges, he guessed not.  
  
“ _Stupefy!_ ” he shouted, flinging the curse over his shoulder. It hit the hedge; the plant shrunk away from the magic, then grew back good as new. Harry turned, running backwards, and tried to hit the beast’s underside with an Impediment Curse.  
  
The spider shuddered, its pincers inches from Harry’s face, and halted like a windup toy that had run out of tension in its springs. Harry, panting, straightened and stepped back. He heard from Ginny’s ears Bagman shout: “Incredible! That, folks, was an Impediment Curse against a fully grown Acromantula, creatures notorious for their resistance to magic. Excellent job, Harry!”  
  
He saw through Ginny’s eyes were the angle of his image was, and turned to face it. He gave them a two-fingered, mock salute, and started away.  
  
 _Show off,_ Ginny thought with amusement. Harry only smirked as he heard the female part of the crowd ooh and aah.  
  
Harry used the Point Me spell again and found that he was facing south west, so he re-angled himself and checked his map surreptitiously. According to it, there was going to be a left turn coming up that would bring him closer to the center.  
  
Very suddenly, a scream broke the air. Harry froze, looking around, his wand at the ready.  
  
 _Fleur’s unconscious,_ Ginny thought. _Something hit her from behind._  
  
He heard Bagman announce: “One of the other champions probably stunned her; we’ll have one of our patrollers go and fetch her. Oh, my, look at the size of that beast! Diggory has got his luck cut out for him…”  
  
Harry frowned as he turned left. _Why did none of the mirrors catch who stunned her?  
  
I don’t know. Diggory’s facing a wyvern.  
  
A what?  
  
It’s a like a dragon, but much smaller and with only two legs._  
  
Harry nodded vaguely and kept on. He turned left again and found the ground covered in mist. He looked up and was met with a tall, hooded creature. Harry gripped his wand tighter. What idiot put a Dementor in here?  
  
“ _Expecto Patronus!_ ” he spat, as Ginny’s face flashed in his mind. A silver stag burst from his wand; he heard through Ginny’s mind the crowd go suddenly quiet and Bagman said softly: “A corporeal Patronus?” Then, louder: “That, folks, is a fully formed, corporeal Patronus, one of the most difficult magics to perform!” The stag lowered its antlers and charged the Dementor; the damned creature turned to flee and stumbled over the hem of its robe.  
  
“Dementors don’t stumble,” he mumbled.  
  
 _Boggart.  
  
I know!_  
  
“ _Riddikulas!_ ” Harry cried. The Dementor suddenly exploded in a burst of confetti; Harry got an image of Remus beaming with pride from Ginny and he strode on. The stag trotted alongside him for a moment until it faded from sight. Harry turned right and then left, then took the center right turn in a four way fork, then found a dead end and turned back, taking the middle left.  
  
He found a ten foot tall block of stone in front of him. Harry didn’t pause, he whipped his wand at it, said “ _Reducto!_ ” and the thing imploded with his red curse. He shielded his mouth from the dust, stepped over the rubble, and kept on. He turned right, checked the map and found that he should be at a dead end, moved straight, turned left, and stopped.  
  
A huge lion was pacing the path in front of him. When it turned to face him, he saw that the beast had the face of a woman rather than a lion’s.  
  
“Er, hello,” he said. The sphinx smiled politely and came to a stop in the middle of the path.  
  
“You are very near your goal,” she said hoarsely.  
  
 _Horsely. Heh,_ Ginny thought unhelpfully.  
  
“The quickest way is past me,” she continued.  
  
“And I suppose you won’t just move?” he asked. The sphinx shook her head. “All right, do I have to fight you or…”  
  
“I have a riddle for you,” she said. “Answer correctly on your first guess, and I will allow you to pass me unharmed. Answer incorrectly, I eat you. Do not answer, and I will let you leave without an attack.”  
  
“Eat me?” he said. “Really?”  
  
The sphinx only smiled.  
  
 _Well, no harm in trying._  
  
“What’s the riddle?” he asked.  
  
The sphinx’s smile became more eager.  
  
“ _It was a tradition long ago,  
When the world was dark and full of woe.  
When men turned darkness into light,  
By mixing, melting and decanting in the night,  
To seek for youth and gold and riches,  
Just to be burned as witches._”  
  
Harry blinked. “Right. One second.”  
  
The sphinx only smiled.  
  
 _Help?_ Harry thought.  
  
 _Tradition long ago,_ Ginny thought. _World was dark… Burned as witches means it’s a magic and long ago probably refers to medieval times.  
  
Men turned darkness into light,_ Harry thought.  
  
 _Seek for gold and riches…  
  
And youth,_ he added.  
  
 _Oh! The Sorcerer’s Stone!_  
  
Harry glanced at the sphinx. _I think it might be a bit more than that.  
  
Alchemy itself? People certainly got burned at the stake for it._  
  
Harry eyed the sphinx. He definitely didn’t want to get eaten, but maybe he could take her if he was wrong.  
  
“Alchemy?” he said softly.  
  
The sphinx’s smile sweetened, he tightened his grip on his wand, but she slid to one side. Letting out his breath, he moved past her with a wave and a grin.  
  
He rounded a corner and used Point Me again; he was facing northwest. He then came upon a break with no straight forward option. He saw deep darkness to the left, and orangey light to the right. He glanced between both, then chose the right path.  
  
He regretted it instantly.  
  
Ginny had described this creature to him earlier, and so he recognized it as a wyvern. He swore loudly, though no one would have been able to hear him over the wyvern’s sudden and gleeful screech. He dodged a plume of flame and shot a spell towards its underbelly. He assumed that the wyvern would chase him if he tried to run, and he didn’t want whatever was causing the inky blackness to have a helper.  
  
 _Diggory hit it in the eyes!_  
  
Harry raised his wand, then tripped over a root that had sprung up suddenly and landed on his face. He tasted blood, but didn’t linger long, instead rolled to the side as the wyvern blasted fire again. “ _Oculo Inflammare!_ ” he cried, as it was the first incantation to come to mind and spat out blood.  
  
The wyvern screeched loudly. He’d have to keep that spell closer to hand. He jumped up, wiped blood from his nose, and aimed his wand at the beast’s open mouth. “ _Stupefy!_ ”  
  
The wyvern swallowed the jet of red light, and fell over backwards. Harry spat out more blood and fingered his teeth, hoping he hadn’t cracked any of them. He began walking again and wished he knew a spell to clean up blood.  
  
 _Scorgify Sanguina Macula._  
  
Harry mentally thanked Ginny, then turned his wand on his face and clothes and murmured the spell. Quickly, the blood vanished, but there was still a leak from his nose. He pinched it and leaned his head back, standing still in the path.  
  
He heard murmuring behind him, and started forward, now breathing through his mouth. He jogged into the next passage, took a left, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He checked Ginny’s eyes and saw that not only was his back to the crowd but that Krum was facing three Acromantulas at once. He smiled sardonically as he took out his map and checked it. He was very near the center. All he had to do was find the cup.  
  
Harry put it back and stepped around the next corner. He eyed the large purple cloud of smoke before him suspiciously.  
  
 _What was the spell Hermione found to detect wards?_ Harry asked Ginny.  
  
 _Oh, er, Quod Nomen Incantatores._  
  
“ _Quod Nomen Incantatores,_ ” Harry whispered, fixing his wand tip on the purple cloud. White smoke came from his wand, swirled around the target, then formed a vial bearing a large rune.  
  
“Great,” he mumbled.  
  
 _At least you know it’s a potion mist, not a spell. You should be able to pass through it if you hold your breath._  
  
Harry glanced behind him, then muttered “ _Point Me!_ ” His wand angled off to the right. His goal was through that mist.  
  
He scanned the ground at his feet and spotted a large rock. He grabbed it, then tapped it with his wand. “ _Mus Estis,_ ” he said. The rock squirmed in his hand and grew whiskers. He growled and repeated the incantation. The hue of the rock lightened and its texture morphed into fur. A moment later, a wriggling mouse was in his hand. He set it on the ground and it scampered forward, reached the purple mist, and fell over, snoring.  
  
 _A Sleeping Draft,_ Ginny thought.  
  
 _Must be,_ he said. Harry gingerly stepped forward. He sucked in his breath and dived through the cloud. He landed in a heap on the other side, then jumped up and darted a few more steps before hazarding a breath. His head suddenly felt light; he dropped to his knees to shake off the effects. He heard a distant roar and pushed himself to his feet. Harry took off running down the path, skidded around a right turn, and found him face to wand tip with Krum.  
  
Harry panted, gripping his wand, but Krum hadn’t made a move yet.  
  
“Vat have you done?” he growled.  
  
“What?” Harry said.  
  
Krum jerked his head behind him, his wand still aimed at Harry’s left nostril. Harry flicked his gaze off to where the Bulgarian had indicated, and saw Fleur’s limp body.  
  
“She’s not — she isn’t dead?” Harry whispered.  
  
“Unconscious,” Krum said. “But you vould know that, seeing how it vas you who attacked her!”  
  
“No, I didn’t!” Harry protested. “How do I know you didn’t attack her? And why are you upset about this; it means one less person in the running.”  
  
Krum slowly backed up, wand still trained on him, and rolled Fleur over to expose her face. Harry sucked in a breath. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth split in a scream, and an angry red.  
  
“It vas a very dark curse that hit her,” Krum growled. “I have seen it before. No trophy is vorth the penalty for using this curse.”  
  
Harry took a hesitant step forward, but stopped when Krum jumped back up and jabbed his wand at him.  
  
“Why do you think it was me?” Harry demanded.  
  
“At the time she suffered this, Diggory and I were dueling the sphinx,” Krum said. “That leaves you.”  
  
Harry blinked, gazing down at her. “But I’d just gotten out of a fight with an Acromantula,” he said. “I was halfway across the maze!”  
  
Krum poked him in the chest. “How do I know you are not lying?”  
  
“I swear it!” Harry insisted.  
  
Krum only grunted.  
  
Harry looked around, suddenly wondering where the fourth of their lot was. “Where’s Diggory?” he asked.  
  
“Off fighting another sphinx,” Krum said with a shrug. “How should I know?”  
  
Harry muttered a swear word. “How many bleeding sphinxes are in this place?” he said under his breath.  
  
Something rustled beside them. Harry whipped out his wand and aimed it towards the bushes on the right. Krum turned his wand on the same spot.  
  
A small mouse shot out of the hedge. It ran straight to Harry and scrambled up the leg of Harry’s trousers.  
  
“Ah, yuck, get off!” Harry said, shaking his leg. The mouse clung to his sock, trembling. Harry reached down and pulled the rodent out by the tail. It squealed and hefted itself onto his hand, where it darted up his sleeve and froze, still shaking like mad.  
  
“That is slightly amusing,” Krum said. Harry glared at him.  
  
“I have half a mind to transfigure you back into a rock,” he said to the mouse, pulling it back out his sleeve.  
  
The hedge before them burst into flames and the wyvern shouldered its way through. Harry’s mouse squeaked in terror and ran up Harry’s arm to come to a stop on his shoulder.  
  
“Oh, bugger,” Harry muttered. The wyvern roared, then a second cry came from a ways behind them. Krum sent off an immediate Conjunctivitis Curse, but missed and hit the beast’s armored neck.  
  
The wyvern screamed at Krum; Harry shot a Stunning Spell into its mouth, but the wyvern must have gotten smarter since their last meeting, for it ducked the spell and shot flame at Harry’s feet. Harry jumped back from the blast of flame; Krum shot water from his wand, dousing the flames, before hitting the draconic creature in the face with his jet of water. It screeched and flapped its wings, rising maybe five feet off the ground. It blew flames over the entire clearing, catching the hedges and spewing its hellish spit into the sky.  
  
Krum’s wand spat out more water, but against the wyvern’s angry fire breath it seemed like a small squirt gun. Flames danced over the ground towards Fleur’s body; Harry dived for her, pulling her away from the fire. Krum jabbed her body with his wand then flung her over his shoulder like she was a sack of feathers. Harry guessed he had used a weightless charm, but didn’t have time to ask. He tried the charm Krum was using and small bursts of water came from his wand. The wyvern landed and roared at them again.  
  
“ _Oculo Inflammare!_ ” Harry yelled, giving his wand a flourish. The wyvern screech, its eyes were suddenly just as flaming as the hedges around them.  
  
Krum stared at him in shock. “Vere did you learn that spell?” he yelled over the wyvern’s roars.  
  
“Just go!” Harry said, gesturing to the crumbling hedge behind them. Krum jumped through a gap in the flames, and Harry followed. Krum turned his wand back on the hedge and it transfigured into a solid block of marble.  
  
Krum turned to Harry, his eyes narrow. “Vere did you learn that spell?”  
  
Harry frowned. “I don’t remember; it’s just a spell.”  
  
Krum shook his head. “That isn’t a real spell,” he said. “Vatch.” He jabbed Harry in the chest. “ _Oculo Inflammare._ ”  
  
Harry flinched, but nothing happened. Krum lowered Fleur from his shoulders, then returned to watching Harry appraisingly. “That shouldn’t have vorked for you,” he continued.  
  
“Well, it did,” Harry snapped. He turned away, then froze.  
  
There was a glowing cup, resting on a pedestal in front of them. At an equal distance from the pedestal, on the other side of the round clearing, stood Diggory.  
  
Krum glanced around, and saw both the Tri-Wizard trophy and Diggory. He pulled out his wand.  
  
Diggory’s face was oddly blank. Harry took a hesitant step forward, but Diggory didn’t move. That was when he noticed the odd splotch of dark red liquid slowly spreading across the front of Diggory’s robes.  
  
Diggory slumped forward. Behind him, a masked and robed figure wiped the blade of their long, silver dagger on a cloth.  
  
“ _Kakvo po dyavolite?_ ” Krum gasped. Diggory’s killer chuckled softly.  
  
“Step forward boys.” Their voice was garbled and metallic, almost like a robot’s.  
  
Harry raised his wand higher. The person waved at them to come forward with a gloved hand. Every inch of this person was covered in black leather or metal. Their mask was a theatrical comedy mask made of some shiny metal, and even the eyes and mouth were covered in a black mesh.  
  
“No need to panic,” the person said. “The boy might live. Possibly. Not likely, but possibly.”  
  
“You’ve killed him!” Harry said.  
  
The person shook their head. “A bit slow to the punch, eh, Potter? I always did wonder exactly what it was that made you so special. I guess we’ll never know now.”  
  
“Who are you?” Krum spat.  
  
“That is of no concern to you,” they answered.  
  
“I believe it is,” Krum growled. “You have just killed one of my allies.”  
  
Harry glanced at Krum out of the corner of his eye. He was right. They were no longer opponents in the Tournament.  
  
“Oh, well, shame on me,” the person simpered. Their laugh was almost demonic through whatever was scrambling their voice. “But I care not. I only need Potter, you know. You may take the French girl and leave now, if you wish. You may even take the Diggory boy. My lord has no need for you.”  
  
“I shall not leave,” Krum said. “I shall kill you.”  
  
The person then truly laughed. “Oh, you’re funny,” they said. “I do appreciate a good joke. Ah, well, no use crying over spilled blood. I gave you your chance; now we duel.”  
  
Krum stepped forward, and jerked his wand up to his face. The person before them did the same. They bowed to each other, then took a step back.  
  
“Potter, you’ll be Krum’s second, won’t you?” the person called airily. “When I kill him, you must concede the duel and come with me.”  
  
“You’re mad!” Harry said. He rushed to Krum’s side, but the older boy held out a hand.  
  
“We duel properly,” Krum said. “Wait.”  
  
Harry faltered. Then he took a step back and waited.  
  
 _Ginny?  
  
We can’t see what’s going on, it looks like Diggory and Krum are dueling again.  
  
What? Diggory is dead!_  
  
Their enemy cast the first curse; they were not speaking but performing their magic non-verbally, as was Krum. Harry saw through Ginny’s eyes and saw a flickering image of Krum and Diggory fighting. It didn’t look as if anything was wrong. Ginny’s mind only just realized what he had said, but no one else appeared to realize it yet.  
  
 _Diggory is dead, you need to tell Dumbledore that he has to get in here somehow!  
  
I’m trying!_  
  
Krum took a jet of purple light to his left side, he gasped aloud and stumbled backward. The person cackled and sent another curse. Harry flung out his wand and cried “Protego!”  
  
The curse rebounded and struck a hedge. Diggory’s killer merely chuckled and kept fighting Krum. Krum’s left arm seemed to have gone numb but he was still fighting. Harry stood on edge, half watching the fight and half listening to Ginny talking to Dumbledore. Harry brought up another shield charm to deflect a stray spell, then sent another in front of Krum.  
  
On Ginny’s side of his mind, he listened to Ginny’s conversation.  
  
“What do you mean, there is no one else in the maze,” said Crouch’s voice.  
  
“There is, that isn’t Diggory!” Ginny answered, gesturing to the four mirrors before the crowd. “Diggory’s been attacked and so has Fleur, and whoever attacked them is dueling Krum!”  
  
“How can you know?” Crouch questioned.  
  
Dumbledore’s voice interjected. “I ask you not to push that question. Ginny, are you sure?”  
  
“Yes!” Harry and Ginny shouted, and both voices came equally from both mouths. The hooded person attacking Krum paused at the sound of another voice, and those around Ginny looked startled.  
  
Dumbledore gripped Ginny’s shoulder, and suddenly there was a third voice in their minds. _“Harry, this is Dumbledore, I am using Legilimency to contact you through Ginny; what do you see?”_  
  
Harry opened his mind to allow Ginny to see through his eyes and subsequently Dumbledore.  
  
 _“Has this person indicated a name or anything that might give a clue to their identity?”  
  
No._  
  
“ _Separabunt Brachium!_ ” their enemy cried.  
  
Krum screamed in pain and blood spurted from his elbow; his wand arm fell to the ground, cut from his body.  
  
Harry clasped a hand to his mouth. Diggory’s killer shot one last curse, and Krum crumpled. Harry darted to Krum’s side; there was blood shooting like a pressure hose from his severed elbow. Desperately, he jabbed his wand at Krum’s arm and the stump cauterized.  
  
“Ooh, I didn’t think you’d know such spell,” the person said. “I was hoping he’d bleed out.”  
  
Harry rose to his feet, Krum’s blood soaking his front and right arm. He turned to their enemy and raised his wand.  
  
“What is your name?” he said softly.  
  
“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” The person bowed theatrically to him. “We duel?”  
  
Harry cast a Blasting Curse at them. They blocked it easily. He sent another, they side-stepped it and retaliated with a jet of red light. He threw up a shield charm and cast the Reductor Curse. His opponent summoned a block of stone to absorb it. Harry advanced on her, his blood thumping in his ears.  
  
“ _Diffindo!_ ” he shouted. His spell was blocked. “ _Bombarda Maxima!_ ” Again, blocked. “ _Petrificus Totalus!_ ” They ducked.  
  
“Who is aiding you?” they asked, their tone dark. “Whose voice is it?”  
  
Harry did not understand. “ _Silencio!_ ” They blocked it with another stone and sent another red curse.  
  
“You use two voices!” they yelled. “Who is your help? Dumbledore? Is it he who re-enforces your spells?”  
  
“ _Oculo Inflammare,_ ” he spat.  
  
They screamed as his spell landed. The person fell to their knees and clawed off their mask, then sprayed their face with water from their wand. Harry sent a Body Bind and they became rigid. He strode to them, then picked up the mask and studied it. Then he grabbed the face and pulled it up. His jaw dropped.  
  
“Professor?” he whispered.  
  
She bared her teeth, and too late he realized the Body Bind had broken. He jumped out of the way of a curse and collided with the pedestal.  
  
“What voice is it?” Professor Aurora Sinestra hissed.  
  
Harry fell to the ground, and the trophy landed in his lap. Sinestra’s eyes widened, then she grabbed the handle of the cup. Harry was about to throw it off him when it glowed blue. Harry gasped, then a hook around his navel tugged him forward.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHG HGHGHG  
Ginny**

  
  
Ginny surged out of her seat and yelled “NO!”  
  
The images vanished. The whole crowd was on their feet, exclaiming loudly. Ginny whipped out her wand and jumped out of the stands, running for the maze.  
  
“Ginny, wait!”  
  
Remus grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. She screamed loudly and he let go; she started running again then her body froze up.  
  
“Ginny, remain calm!” Dumbledore cried.  
  
“Let. Me. Go,” she hissed through a locked jaw.  
  
Remus turned her around to face Dumbledore and the judges. Maxime was on her feet, her face in shock. Karkaroff’s face was white; Bagman was clearly trying to hold back terror; Crouch was sitting there with a blank expression.  
  
Dumbledore was forcibly holding Sirius in his seat. His eyes were dark. “Ludo,” he said. “You placed the cup. What do you know of it being turned to a Portkey?”  
  
Ludo stammered incoherently. Ginny suddenly narrowed her eyes, then she forced herself to move and her wand was at his throat. “What do you know?” she growled.  
  
“Miss Weasley!” Dumbledore said.  
  
Ginny thrust her hand at him, motioning him to be quiet. She half expected him to keep talking, but he fell silent.  
  
“Tell me,” she insisted.  
  
A trickle of sweat appeared at Bagman’s temple. Sirius forced his way over and grabbed the nervous man’s left forearm; he forced back the sleeve and hissed. Ginny glanced down for a moment, and pressed her wand into his Adam’s apple. The man was branded as a Death Eater.  
  
“You would not have that mark unless you had meant it,” she spat. “Where is Harry?!”  
  
“Hangleton!” Ludo gasped. “The Big House!”  
  
Ginny let him go, then said: “ _Stupefy!_ ” Bagman slumped onto Crouch, who still hadn’t moved.  
  
The adults around her stared in shock.  
  
“Professor Sinestra,” Ginny said to Dumbledore.  
  
“What?” said the Headmaster.  
  
“Sinestra,” Ginny repeated. “She was the one in the maze.”  
  
Dumbledore opened his mouth, closed it, then lowered his head into his hands. Ginny looked around, then leveled her wand at Karkaroff. He leaned back in his seat, but she pressed the tip into his chest.  
  
“You were pen pals with Riddle in school,” she said.  
  
“How could you —” he gasped  
  
“That doesn’t matter,” she cut him off. “Are you still in contact with him? I know you’re a Death Eater, too, by the way.”  
  
Karkaroff rubbed the inside of his left forearm. “I — no, no I haven’t contacted any of his followers since his defeat,” he said in a raspy voice. Ginny angled her wand at Maxime and raised her eyebrows. The French teacher shook her head with a jerk. Ginny looked over the rest of the crowd, then at Crouch and his still blank expression.  
  
“You?” she said.  
  
“Ginny!” Remus gasped. “Bartemius Crouch was one of the lead in the fight against You-Know-Who!”  
  
“Yeah?” Ginny said. She stepped towards him and looked him in the eye. He looked up at her, then down at his feet. She gripped her wand more tightly. “What do you know?” she hissed.  
  
Crouch’s shoulders began to shake. Ginny frowned. He finally looked her in the eye, and there was cruel amusement in them.  
  
“ _Stup—_ ” she began, but Crouch had already grabbed Bagman’s arm and had disappeared in a flash of blue light.  
  
Ginny clenched her jaw. She turned to Dumbledore.  
  
“I want myself, Sirius, and Remus transported to Hangleton,” she said. “You may bring anyone you might still trust.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded quickly. “Alastor!” he called. Professor Moody stumped forward and grunted. Dumbledore gripped Ginny’s arm. “Hangleton, in Wales,” he said. The ex-Auror nodded, and the group hurried from the stadium to the gates where they could Apparate away.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHGH GHG**

  
  
Harry landed in a heap on soft, squishy grass. Professor Sinestra kicked him in the stomach, and he curled into a ball, the wind knocked out of him. Vaguely, he heard Ginny yelling in the back of his mind, but could not respond while he gasped for air.  
  
“Philip!” Sinestra called. “I have the boy!”  
  
“The potion is nearly complete,” said a man’s deep voice. “Bring him here.”  
  
Harry fumbled for his wand, but Sinestra cast a spell before he could grab it. His body froze. Sinestra snatched his wand off the ground and grabbed his hair. He tried to cry out in pain, but his tongue was rigid. Sinestra dragged him across the grass and from his limited view, all he could see marble tombstones and wet grass.  
  
She flung him at her feet and he saw a fire barely a foot from his face; a cauldron sat on it, and he could see it boiling.  
  
“Tie him to the grave,” a raspy voice commanded. Sinestra gripped the back of his shirt and lugged him to a broad tombstone. She used her wand to levitate him then bind him to a stone angel topping the tombstone. Harry finally saw her angry face; her eyes were bloodshot and the skin around them was puffy and red. Then she backed away and he saw two men, one of them looked like her brother, the other was stooped over the cauldron. He saw greasy black hair and tried to shout in anger at who he assumed was the traitorous Severus Snape, but the Body Bind was too strong.  
  
“We are ready for the last three ingredients,” the stoop-shouldered man said in a soft voice. Harry frowned; that wasn’t Snape’s voice.  
  
“Begin,” the raspy voice said. Harry pinpointed the location as being in the tall black man’s arms.  
  
The stooped man drew a wand and aimed it at the tombstone beneath Harry. Harry tried to squirm again, but the Body Bind held fast.  
  
“Bone of the father,” the man said. The ground cracked and split, then pale white dust drifted upward. The man directed his wand to pull the dust, bone dust, into the cauldron.  
  
“Flesh of the servant,” he continued. Harry tried harder to escape. Sinestra strode forward and stuck out her arm. The stoop shouldered man held out his wand; Harry, through pure will-power, forced his eyes to close. He heard a _thwak_ and a splash, but Sinestra made no sound. He heard a whispered spell, then footsteps.  
  
“Blood of the enemy.”  
  
Harry forced his eyes back open. The stoop shouldered man drew a knife and advanced towards Harry. He struggled to break the curse, to break the ropes, but they held fast. His chest twisted in panic, and there was a sudden _BOOM_. A shockwave shot out from around him; the stoop shouldered man dropped his knife and grabbed the sides of the cauldron, preventing it from tipping. Harry heard a sizzle and smelled what was undoubtedly the man’s hands searing, but he did not seem to notice it. The man simply cast a charm, then bent and picked up his knife. He cast another spell, and Harry’s body pressed back against the angel. He grabbed Harry’s still blood-soaked right forearm, and dug the knife into his skin.  
  
Harry wanted to scream, he wanted to scream so badly, but his mouth refused to work. Blood pooled on the blade, and the man stepped back. He held the knife over the cauldron and shook it.  
  
One drop fell into it. Two drops. Three.  
  
The potion turned red, then milky white. The man set down the knife then held out his arms to the tall black man. He took what appeared to be a bundle of robes from him, then turned back to the cauldron.  
  
Harry closed his eyes. He heard a groan, then a splash, and began to pray.  
  
 _Ginny, I don’t know where I am, but get here quickly._  
  
There was a loud pop beside him. Harry opened his eyes and stared as hard as he could out of the corner of his eye, unfortunately his glasses did not cover that far and the two figures were horribly blurry.  
  
“What news?” The black man said.  
  
“The Weasley girl turned on us faster than we expected,” said a voice Harry thought was remarkably like Crouch’s, but too reedy to be exact.  
  
“Weasley girl?” Sinestra’s voice was strained. “How did she suspect you?”  
  
“I do not know, but Bagman caved under her wand. Fortunately he forgot to specify which Hangleton. This place is Unplottable, right?”  
  
“Of course,” the stooped man said. “Why is Bagman unconscious?”  
  
Harry tried to focus his eyes, but they refused. Was Ludo Bagman there? Was he another traitor?  
  
“Weasley stunned him. The girl was furious. I’ve never seen a child look so powerful before.”  
  
The stooped shouldered man did not reply. He turned back to the cauldron, then took a step back. “Your master rises.”  
  
Harry begged silently. _Ginny, Bagman might have told you the wrong place! Please, please answer me, Ginny!_  
  
He did not know what was restricting his mind, but he could only just hear Ginny’s voice on the other side of his mind. His eyes began to tear up in his fear and panic.  
  
The potion bubbled, and slowly a huge glob rose out of it. It twisted in the air, then a shape began to form, like a skeleton writhing inside of it. It changed again, and became more humanoid. The liquid dripped away. A figure was now apparent in the air.  
  
The cauldron was levitated away, and the figure touched down. The stooped man draped a robe over the shoulders. Skin was forming into a face rapidly as Harry watched, unable to peel his eyes away. The sound of his own panic filled his mind. Eyes opened to reveal blood red irises and slit pupils.  
  
Lord Voldemort inhaled deeply through a nose that was flat. He raised white fingers to stroke a bare scalp. Harry had never felt so afraid in his life.  



	26. The Wretched and Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Twenty-Six, The Goblet of Fire Part Thirteen  
The Wretched and Divine  
Ginny**

  
  
Ginny scanned the area but all she saw were bull-rushes and muggy ground. There was a large, decrepit house in the distance, and farther off was a smog-laden village lit up with harsh yellow lamps.  
  
“Harry!” Sirius yelled. There was no answer. He called again, but still no one answered. Ginny’s heartbeat sounded like a drum call in the darkness.  
  
 _Harry?_ Ginny thought anxiously. She heard no coherent words, only vague panic. Her chest was tight with the same emotion, and her thoughts ran rampant with terror. She knew what was happening, she didn’t know how she knew, but they had to get to Harry immediately.  
  
“HARRY!” she screamed. Behind her, Dumbledore spun his wand in a wide circle, and light erupted all around them. There was not a single human figure anywhere near them. A small cat was struck by the light; it hissed and took off with its bushy tail erect in the opposite direction.  
  
“He’s not here,” Ginny muttered.  
  
“Bagman must have lied,” Remus said. “Ginny, think! Can you hear him?”  
  
“What’s this about?” Moody grumbled. “How would she hear him from here?”  
  
Ginny snapped her fingers angrily at him; the Auror blinked but was silent. She closed her eyes and focused. _Harry. Harry. Harry._ He was afraid, genuinely terrified, of what was happening before him. If only he could calm his terror for just a moment, just long enough for her to hear what he was saying —  
  
 _Bagman might have told you the wrong place!  
  
Harry!  
  
Please, please, answer me, Ginny!  
  
Harry, I’m here, where are you?  
  
He’s coming!  
  
Harry!  
  
Please, let it not work, let it drown! Let it go wrong!_  
  
Ginny gripped Dumbledore’s sleeve. “Are there any other Hangletons anywhere?”  
  
“There’s one in France,” he said.  
  
Ginny tried to see through Harry’s eyes. She saw flashes of red then milky white, and heard splashes and Harry’s ragged breathing. There were headstones around him. He was in a graveyard.  
  
“A graveyard,” she said. “He’s in a graveyard.”  
  
“What are the names?” Remus asked. “Can you tell?”  
  
Ginny struggled to focus his gaze. There were tears of fear gathering in his eyes, and his glasses were knocked askew, straining his view. She couldn’t see any clear names.  
  
“I can’t tell!” she growled.  
  
Dumbledore touched his fingers to her temple. She let him into her mind, praying that he could help. After a moment, he said: “The tombstones are a mix of Gothic and Saxon design but they are also in English. He’s not in France.”  
  
“What about variations of Hangleton?” Remus asked. “Are there any similar names to it?”  
  
“Hambleton, Hangletown, Hangledtown and ton,” Dumbledore recited.  
  
Ginny hissed suddenly and jumped away from Dumbledore. She rubbed her eyes, then her temples, and realized that she was crying too. She saw red eyes, boring deep into her soul.  
  
“He’s back,” she moaned.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHGH GHGHG  
Harry**

  
  
Cruel lips curved in a wicked smirk. Long bony fingers snapped and a wand was held out to him. He took it and examined its surface, then turned his gaze on the persons around him.  
  
“Welcome back, my lord,” said the black man.  
  
Lord Voldemort made no reply. He turned to Bagman and his helper, then flicked his wand. Bagman suddenly opened his eyes and sat bolt upright.  
  
“Go distract the fools,” he said softly. Bagman nodded, then with a loud CRACK he was gone. Voldemort inhaled deeply, then looked to Harry. He stepped forward, til he was inches from Harry’s face.  
  
“I smell your fear,” Voldemort whispered. Harry could make no movement and no sound. Voldemort smiled again, then turned away and faced Professor Sinestra.  
  
“Your devotion is appreciated,” he told her. She straightened, and Harry realized she was cradling a stump of an arm. It served her right, he thought, for cutting off Krum’s. Voldemort held out his hand to her. “The Dark Lord rewards his followers,” he said. Sinestra held out her shaking stump, and Voldemort waved his wand over it. From the stump grew a silvery shape, which shaped itself and split into fingers, ending in a shimmering hand of silver. Professor Sinestra bowed low, whispering her thanks.  
  
“What news do you bring?” Voldemort said, turning back to the man who’d brought Bagman.  
  
“Dumbledore is clueless.”  
  
“As he is always. What else?”  
  
“Karkaroff denies any contact with my lord or his followers.”  
  
“We shall remedy that post haste,” Voldemort said with a cruel chuckle. “Your arm.”  
  
The man stepped forward and pulled back his left sleeve. Harry caught a glimpse of the Death Eater’s faint brand before Voldemort stepped forward and pressed his finger to the mark.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHGH GHG  
Ginny**

  
  
There was a loud CRACK directly behind Ginny; she turned around but a pair of arms was already wrapping around her.  
  
“Nobody move!” Bagman’s voice called. Both of his arms were tightly wrapped around her shoulders; a wand was pressed against her pulse. “Everyone drop your wands.”  
  
The four men all dropped their wands. Bagman flicked his and all four of them vanished. Bagman grabbed her wand from her hand, and it too disappeared. She sucked in her breath; he smelled like cigarette smoke and bourbon.  
  
“You four are going to return to Hogwarts, where I just sent your wands,” Bagman said, tossing a worn slipper in their direction. “Miss Weasley and I shall return to where I came from.”  
  
“Who are you working for?!” Moody shouted.  
  
“Voldemort,” Ginny said.  
  
Bagman chuckled. “Good girl. Yes, I am working for the Dark Lord. But that does not matter now. You are going to take that Portkey back to Hogwarts before I slit the girl’s throat.”  
  
Ginny gritted her teeth. Bagman squeezed his arms for a moment, pressing her into his body.  
  
“You’re disgusting!” she spat.  
  
“Shut it,” he growled. “You’re lucky I’m not killing all of you.”  
  
“You couldn’t kill them!” Ginny said. “Even wandless, Dumbledore is twice as powerful as you are, Moody is the best Auror in history, and Sirius and Remus are two of the greatest duelers I’ve ever seen.”  
  
“But now they’re going back to Hogwarts,” Bagman said with a sneer. His breath fell on her ear; she coughed at the smell of it. “Now!”  
  
Dumbledore slowly bent and lifted the slipper. He locked eyes with Ginny, and she clenched her jaw.  
  
Then she heard his voice. _I have established a link between us,_ his thought echoed through her mind. _I will be able to track you._  
  
She nodded slightly. Dumbledore held out the slipper to Moody, Remus, and Sirius. He looked each of them in the eye as well, and wordlessly they each touched a finger to the Portkey.  
  
There was a flash of blue light, and they were gone.  
  
Bagman exhaled slowly. “Now that that’s done,” he grumbled. He turned her roughly around and pressed her against his side. Ginny clapped a hand over her nose at the intensified reek. Bagman sneered down at her, then gripped her waist and turned on the spot.  
  
The air was knocked from her lungs. She coughed, almost choked on Bagman’s smell, then sunk to her knees. He grabbed the neck of her robes and hauled her up.  
  
“You’re my leverage,” he growled. “You’d better stay conscious.”  
  
Ginny spat in his face. He spluttered, then flung her onto the ground and wiped his face with his sleeve.  
  
“Brat,” he grumbled. “I’ve half a mind to teach you a lesson.”  
  
He grabbed her robes again. Then he ran one hand through her hair, and sneered, exposing his yellow teeth. “But there’s time for that later, isn’t there? The Dark Lord is not very patient.”  
  
Suddenly he winced. “Very not patient,” he mumbled, then he wrapped an arm around her knees and threw her over his shoulder like a rag doll. Ginny pounded her fists on his back, yelling loudly at him, but he flicked his wand and her fists froze and her voice fell quiet.  
  
“That’s better,” he said. He adjusted his hold on her so she was draped over both of his shoulders. He held her arm with one hand and the other gripped her leg just above her knee. “Come on then. The Dark Lord is going to want to know about how close you are to Potter.”  
  
Ginny’s face was stretched in a silent scream, but it echoed through her mind.  
  


 **HGHGHGHGHGHGHGH GHG  
Harry**

  
  
Voldemort stood waiting with his back to Harry. Sinestra and the black man, Harry remembered her calling him Philip, were standing at attention at one side of the clearing in the graveyard, the man who’d helped Bagman stood at the other end. He wasn’t Crouch after all, but a young man with sandy blonde hair and a gaunt face. The stooped shouldered man sat with his back to the tombstone Harry was tied to, his long, greasy hair hanging over his face. Harry felt the urge to kick him, but his legs refused to budge.  
  
Then, others began to appear. Men and women in black robes and masks similar to Sinestra’s. They slunk in through the tombstones and began to form a circle around Voldemort. There were defined gaps in it, holes Harry hoped wouldn’t get filled.  
  
Ten minutes after Bagman disappeared, he returned bearing a small figure on his shoulder. He flung the figure at Harry’s feet, then took his place in the circle. Harry tried to gaze downward to see who it was, but his head wouldn’t tilt. Whoever it was, they were just as silent and non-moving as Harry was.  
  
Finally, Voldemort spoke. “Welcome,” he said in a soft voice.  
  
“My Lord,” the circle said in unison.  
  
“Thirteen years,” Voldemort mused, “thirteen years it has been since we met last. Yet, here we are, once again reunited under the Dark Mark.”  
  
He began to pace in a smaller circle. “Or are we?”  
  
The circle seemed to hold their breath. Voldemort stopped facing the largest group. “I smell guilt,” he said quietly. “The stench of betrayal is heavy upon us tonight.”  
  
They were silent still. Voldemort inhaled slowly. “I see each of you, all whole, healthy, prospering despite the stigma you must have faced in my absence. How is it, I ask myself, that none of you ever faced Azkaban? As my most loyal followers, you must have announced your allegiances to the world without fear of retribution, but then if you had, you would have been prosecuted as criminals, would you not?”  
  
Harry heard a trace of anger in Voldemort’s voice. Harry prayed that someone would come, anyone, anyone would come and attack, to rescue him.  
  
“I answer myself,” Voldemort whispered. “To have avoided Azkaban, you must have denied me.”  
  
“My lord,” said a soft voice. Voldemort turned his red eyes on the speaker, then stepped forward.  
  
“Let’s hear your defense, then,” he said. “What was it that kept you out of Azkaban, Lucius?”  
  
Harry’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
“We all knew that when you returned, you would need followers instantly,” Lucius said. “If we were to be thrown in Azkaban, that would do you no good.”  
  
Voldemort nodded slowly. “So you denied me, on the thoughts that the day I returned, I would need your help immediately.”  
  
“Yes, my lord.”  
  
Voldemort bared his teeth in his face. “Then why did none of you come looking for me?!”  
  
The circle was silent once more.  
  
Voldemort turned away from Lucius, turning to face Professor Sinestra and Philip, as well as Bagman and the young man. “Only these four came for me. Dear Aurora and Philip have been for years trying to resurrect me in secret, then Ludo and Barty came to their aid and ensured I would rise. Ludo gave them the book and Barty heralded the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which brought to me Potter, and therefore my way back.”  
  
They were silent. Voldemort turned back to Lucius. “The book they used to bring me back is one you have in your collection, Lucius,” he said. “Tell me why you never thought to pursue it and stumble upon the potion that gave me my body.”  
  
“I had to dispose of my collection, my lord,” Lucius said. “To prevent my exposure as a practitioner of the Dark Arts.”  
  
Voldemort shook his head. “Such a shame. You even disposed of the Black Book of Felicia Tiberina?”  
  
Lucius gulped.  
  
Voldemort nodded slowly. “Yes, it was that most cursed tome that Aurora Sinestra found that brought me back. I imagine she probably bought your copy.”  
  
Voldemort turned to Harry’s tombstone, and his eyes fixed on the man sitting slumped beneath it. “I would ask you to welcome the man who brewed the potion!” he said. “Abraham Vance!”  
  
The man at Harry’s side did not rise. He did not even move.  
  
“Poor Abraham did not want to help,” Voldemort. “But as the book was heavily encoded, he was the only one with the necessary skill to decode and prepare the potion. The Sinestra siblings convinced him to do so by kidnapping his wife. So you see, it is all due to their actions that I am standing before you.”  
  
Harry tried to make sense of what was happening. He remembered a moment from a dream, a girl with white hair saying that she and her crow would provide Abraham with the final clue. Was that connected to this?  
  
Voldemort sneered down at Abraham. “Poor Abraham was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, that wretched group that so feebly attempted to defy us, yet he dropped his every allegiance to aid me the moment his wife was in danger. That speaks profoundly for love and its poor judgment.”  
  
The man turned his face away, and Harry could see shame in his heart.  
  
Voldemort turned his red eyes back on Sinestra. She smiled warmly to him, and he inclined his head. “So no man or woman here but for these four really thought I would come back. None of you ever tried to help me. Therefore, I pronounce them above you all, and all of you worthless.”  
  
Harry flinched at the word. He remembered the ghost of Voldemort’s younger self and his sadistic mark upon Ginny. Then anger kindled in him. Who was Voldemort to declare any human being worthless?  
  
Voldemort slowly turned back to Harry. “They brought Potter to me at great risk to their lives,” he said. “For this, I am grateful.”  
  
Harry tried to appear less scared than he really was. Voldemort smirked. He flicked his wand and the ropes that bound him vanished. Harry’s body could suddenly move, and he fell forward onto the ground.  
  
The circle of Death Eaters laughed.  
  
“Come now, Potter, where is your dignity? Stand before me, face me as your father did before I killed him.”  
  
Harry panted softly as he pushed himself back. He straightened his glasses, then caught something red beside him. He turned, and his heart stopped at the sight of Ginny’s limp body. She was staring at him with a frozen expression of anger. He reached over hesitantly and clasped her hand.  
  
“Stand, Potter!”  
  
Harry’s fear melted into anger. He gripped her hand, then pushed himself up. He turned and looked directly at Voldemort. Then he turned to Bagman and glared.  
  
“What’s this? Potter, does the girl upset you? Ludo, do explain her presence here.”  
  
“I took her hostage,” Bagman said. “So Dumbledore and the Auror would return to Hogwarts.”  
  
Voldemort smirked. “The poor fool must be beating himself up for allowing two of his students into danger.”  
  
“Yes, that’s what I was thinking!”  
  
“No, you weren’t, you idiot,” Voldemort snapped. “You were thinking she was pretty and that you could get away with taking her as a pet!”  
  
Harry’s chest swelled with rage, but his voice was still silenced by Sinestra’s charms. Bagman looked at his feet, almost ashamed. Voldemort flicked his wand, and Ginny’s body straightened itself, then ropes appeared and lashed her arms to her side.  
  
“Potter, face me,” he said. “I want to see the life leave your eyes.”  
  
Harry clenched his fists. Voldemort smirked. “Aurora, give the boy his wand. It would be improper of me to merely kill him. We shall duel.”  
  
Sinestra stepped out of line and pressed Harry’s wand into his hand. Harry took it without looking at her. He focused on Ginny behind him. He would not fail; he would not let himself get killed so she would be turned into a pet for the foul and disgusting pedophile traitor.  
  
“Dumbledore did teach you manners, did he not?” Voldemort said. “First we bow to each other.”  
  
Harry stood with his back erect.  
  
“Come now, Harry, don’t be rude,” Voldemort crooned. “The niceties must be observed. Bow!”  
  
Harry ignored the command.  
  
Voldemort glared at him. “I said, _bow! Imperio_!”  
  
Harry closed his eyes before the spell could reach him. He remembered Remus telling them about spells that tried to break a person’s will; the Imperius Curse was an Unforgivable and it took the strongest will to resist it.  
  
Harry refused to break.  
  
A little voice whispered to him, just bow, it would be so easy, but Harry ignored it. He felt Voldemort’s frustration grow the longer he resisted.  
  
“Bow, Potter!” he spat.  
  
“NO!” Harry shouted, breaking both the Silencing Charm and the Imperius. Voldemort narrowed his red eyes and smirked.  
  
“You refuse? Try this then; Crucio!”  
  
Harry screamed as sudden searing pain filled his entire body. He fell to the ground, convulsing and screaming his throat sore; the pain was so intense, it shook his every molecule with agony.  
  
Voldemort lifted his wand and the pain stopped. Harry pushed himself to his knees, drawing in great lungfuls of air.  
  
“That wasn’t so bad, Potter,” Voldemort crooned. “That was merely a taste. Here, once again! _Crucio!_ ”  
  
Harry’s screams were louder than he could ever had imagined. His body felt like it was being dosed in boiling acid, his joints were all twisting out of place and backwards, his very pores were all standing erect and screaming with pain.  
  
And it stopped again. Voldemort and his circle of Death Eaters were all laughing. “Now you are a bit humbled, are you not, Potter? Stand up, boy, face me again! Go on, stand!”  
  
Harry’s legs trembled as he tried to push himself up. He was shaking visibly and as he straightened his spine, his knees gave way and he fell to the ground again. The Death Eaters all laughed.  
  
“Do you see how weak you are, Potter?” Voldemort cried. “Let me show you; Crucio!”  
  
The pain was so horrible; tenfold anything he had ever felt in his life. Harry screamed and screamed and the only thing louder than his screams was the laughter of the Death Eaters and their master as Harry’s body ripped itself apart in pain.  
  
“Get up, Potter!” Voldemort yelled over Harry’s screams. “Prove yourself worthy of being my enemy!”  
  
Harry could not have stood even if he wanted too; the pain was so intense.  
  
Voldemort lifted his wand once more and Harry tried to simply breathe. He caught sight of Ginny’s frozen body and tears gathered in his eyes. He could not protect her; he was too weak.  
  
“Stand, Potter!” Voldemort called again. “Or do you want to taste the Cruciatus again?”  
  
Harry wished that he’d refused to step into the maze. He wished that he had refused to take his place as a champion. He would have rather taken the exile, living as a Muggle, than been forced into this.  
  
“Torture the girl, my lord,” Bagman’s voice called. “It will hurt him more than his own torture!”  
  
“Indeed?” Voldemort said. Harry jerked his gaze to Voldemort; his cruel eyes were aimed at Ginny now. He smirked coldly at Harry, then turned his wand on Ginny. “ _Crucio!_ ”  
  
And now Ginny screamed. Harry screamed with her; Voldemort laughed, the Death Eaters laughed, Harry felt her pain as if it were his own. He lunged for her and grabbed her cold hands. Their screams echoed through the graveyard.  
  
Voldemort stopped finally. Ginny’s screams turned to low whimpers. Her body curled into a fetal position, her head lying in Harry’s hands.  
  
“Well, well, well,” Voldemort chuckled. “Does it look to anyone else as though Potter might have fallen into the trap of the heart?” The Death Eaters laughed again. Harry turned, anger and fear pulsing like fire in his veins, and pushed himself to his feet. Voldemort smirked at him.  
  
“As if you needed any reason to sink lower,” his enemy said softly. Harry gritted his teeth. “But now, Potter, we duel.”  
  
Harry immediately cried: “ _Protego!_ ” as Voldemort began a silent volley of curses. He grabbed Ginny’s limp body, his arms trembling beneath her weight, and ducked behind a nearby headstone; one belonging to Caroline Riddle. He flicked his wand at the ropes tying Ginny still and they fell away. He stood up and dodged a jet of purple light, then cast a Reductor Curse followed by an Impediment Jinx. Voldemort easily blocked both; Harry ducked green light then fired a jet of water at him. Voldemort sidestepped it, slowly advancing. Harry gripped his wand tighter, then a hand gripped his empty palm.  
  
 _You can distract him long enough for Dumbledore to get here,_ Ginny’s voice whispered in his mind. Harry nodded with a jerk, then cast a Stunning Spell. Voldemort laughed at his seemingly sloppy aim, but it hit Harry’s intended target. A Death Eater collapsed from Harry’s spell. Ginny was right, right now he only needed to distract Voldemort, but he could also take out many of the Death Eaters while they were enraptured by his and Voldemort’s duel. He cast three more Stunning Spells, all of which Voldemort side-stepped and caught Death Eaters. Ginny didn’t have her wand, but her hand in Harry’s gave him boosts of courage.  
  
“ _Stupefy! Reducto! Aguamenti! Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Stupefy!_ ”  
  
Harry cast spell after spell. He pulled Ginny up and they darted from tombstone to tombstone, hitting the Death Eaters with stray spells. Harry caught Bagman with his Oculo Inflammare curse followed by a Silencing Charm, and the man collapsed in silent screams of pain. Not one spell landed on Voldemort, but that didn’t matter to Harry just then. He only wanted to reduce resistance when Dumbledore arrived.  
  
Ten minutes later, half the Death Eaters were stunned or somehow incapacitated. Voldemort still had not realized that Harry’s apparent sloppy spell-work was taking out his followers, because he was intent on killing Harry. None of his spells landed on Harry either, because Harry had a very strong Shield Charm and he was very good at dodging. Finally, Ginny told him that Dumbledore had tracked them down and would be there soon.  
  
Harry jumped up and cried “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” once more, but at the very same time Voldemort yelled “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”  
  
The two spells collided in midair and suddenly there was a golden beam of light connecting their wands. A huge golden shimmering shield erupted from the midpoint where the light was intensified into a little ball and descended around them. The remaining Death Eaters scattered to avoid it, but Voldemort remained still. There was shock on his newly formed face, but it was quickly replaced by something Harry attributed to bloodlust.  
  
The little ball of light began inching down the beam towards Harry, and as it did his wand began to shake violently. Guessing that it would not be good if it reached him, he focused his will and drove it away from him towards Voldemort’s wand. Voldemort’s expression deepened, and it shifted back towards Harry. Ginny gripped Harry’s hand tighter. The ball of light inched towards Voldemort’s wand, then it shot forward and connected with the tip of his wand.  
  
Voldemort’s wand tip seemed to explode in a violent volley of pale spells; ghosts of the spells he’d been performing. There were flashes of light, then out came a waving hand, then more spells and finally a thick cloud of white smoke. It solidified into a figure, and Harry saw the old man from his dream last year.  
  
 _“Killed me, that one did,”_ the ghost said in a voice that echoed through the entire golden dome. _“You fight him, boy.”_  
  
Harry nodded vaguely, but then there was another white cloud coming from Voldemort’s wand and a woman appeared. Harry didn’t recognize her, but she smiled apologetically at him.  
  
 _“It was sort of my fault that he knew about Barty, Jr.,”_ she said. _“Bertha Jorkins, the name is. I think. He killed me after I told him about the Tournament. I wasn’t s’posed to do that, was I?”_  
  
Harry wasn’t sure how to respond, until another woman appeared. His wand slipped almost, but Ginny grabbed his wand hand and kept it steady.  
  
Lily Potter’s ghost smiled at him. _“Hold on, sweetheart, your father’s coming. Hold on for just a bit longer.”_  
  
Harry’s heart clenched. Ginny was holding his hand still and she wrapped her free arm around his waist, lending him her strength. Then a fourth cloud of smoke exited the wand tip, and it formed the image of James Potter.  
  
 _“You’re doing great, son!”_ he said. _“Help is on the way, you can push him back long enough.”_  
  
“What?” Harry muttered.  
  
 _“Push him back until help arrives! They’re coming, so just hold on a bit longer.”_  
  
Harry only just understood, but he nodded and pressed his will harder into the beam of light. More spells echoed from Voldemort’s wand, slowly filling the dome with their ghosts. Voldemort’s face was frightened from behind all the pale ghost spells. Harry could do this, he could win.  
  
 _“Just a moment longer, sweetheart,”_ his mother told him. _“They’re almost here!”_  
  
 _Dumbledore’s here!_ Ginny suddenly thought.  
  
 _“Now!”_ Harry’s father said. _“Break it now!”_  
  
Harry jerked his wand backwards, and suddenly all of the ghost spells rushed at Voldemort; they gathered right in his face, and he was distracted trying to beat them away. Harry looked around and saw Dumbledore right behind him. He grabbed both of their arms and Disapparated.  
  


 **HGHGHGH GHGHGHGHGHG**

  
  
The Potter boy was gone, and so was Ginny. The Dark Lord was in a towering rage, and was now taking it out on his somewhat loyal followers. He wanted to know how Dumbledore knew where he was, but no one was able to give him an answer. Abraham crawled slowly around the still writhing body of Ludo Bagman, silently clawing at his eyes from Potter’s spell, and grabbed the man’s discarded wand, then pushed himself up and sprinted away from the graveyard. The cup was still laying in the grass where Sinestra had dropped it. He grabbed one handle, and the Portkey sucked him away. When he landed, he dropped it and looked around. There were three people around him. One of them was definitely dead, but the other two were simply unconscious. Using Bagman’s wand, he conjured stretchers and levitated each of them onto one, then began walking. He was in some kind of maze, so he simply blew apart the hedges as he walked. He’d reach one edge or another eventually. Dumbledore could help him; and he would, if he wanted the Black Book of Felicia Tiberina.  



	27. Wonderful and Wild Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven  
Wonderful and Wild Magic  
Ginny**

The light outside Dumbledore’s office was soft and orange. Ginny sat with her arms around Harry, his face buried in her shoulder. He was quiet, but the adults before her were not.

Her mother was screaming at Dumbledore, and Ginny couldn’t actually tell what she was saying anymore. Nor did she care, particularly. She did remember that somehow, her mother was angry about everything that had happened that night and was ready to pin the entire thing as the Ministry’s fault if he did not give her a better answer. Dumbledore was simply trying to calm her down, as was her father, but Sirius was fueling her rage by popping up every few seconds with another thing the Ministry could have done to prevent all of what had happened despite Remus grabbing his arm every time he opened his mouth. This had been going on for the past fifteen minutes ever since Harry had finished telling them what had happened.

Ginny was sick of it.

“Mum!” she finally shouted. 

“What?” her mother said with exasperation.

“Stop yelling at Dumbledore and yell at Fudge, if you’re so concerned that it’s all his fault,” Ginny snapped. 

Mum flushed slightly. “Well, I can’t exactly yell at the Minister of Magic,” she blustered. 

“And yelling at the Headmaster of Hogwarts is better how?”

Her mother looked at her feet. Dumbledore turned to Ginny with a quick look of gratitude.

“We will solve this, Molly,” Dumbledore assured her. 

“How?” Mum demanded.

Dumbledore did not immediately answer. Mum’s shoulders sagged. She turned to Ginny and Harry, then took a step forward and dropped down beside Harry. She wrapped her arms around him and began slowly rubbing his shoulder. Harry grabbed her hand and held onto it. Dumbledore’s eyes, lacking any of their usual sparkle, peered over his half-moon glasses at the three of them.

“Somehow,” he murmured.

The doors to Dumbledore’s office burst open and in strode Fudge, Madam Maxime, Karkaroff, and Professor Moody. 

“Dumbledore! This is unacceptable! You cannot expect me to believe this cock and bull story Potter has come up with; I want an explanation!” Fudge said, walking up to Dumbledore’s desk with a red face. 

“We are working on one,” Dumbledore said. 

“’Ow was it zat one of your own teachers gravely injured two students, killed another, and kidnapped this poor boy!” Maxime demanded. “Fleur ‘as still not woken up!”

“Professor Sinestra was acting on her own,” Dumbledore began. 

Fudge opened his mouth, still red in the face, yet Harry spoke before he could. “She wasn’t.”

All the adults turned to Harry. He lifted his head, but let his gaze remain on the floor. His voice was croaky and soft, but he spoke on. “Bagman was helping her. And Crouch, someone was impersonating him.”

“Impersonating a Ministry Official?” Fudge spluttered. 

“It was a younger man, probably close to thirty, with sandy blonde hair and a similar voice. Voldemort still referred to him as Barty,” Harry said.

“Crouch had a son named after him; Barty Crouch, Jr.,” Moody grunted.

“Barty Crouch, Jr., is dead!” Fudge snapped at Moody. “And you are even less believable than Potter, so stay quiet!” The ex-Auror glared at him a moment, then stumped away, slamming the door behind him.

“Somehow he isn’t,” Harry said after a moment. “But Bagman was definitely a Death Eater; he had the mark…”

Fudge suddenly waved his hands frantically in the air. “No, no, this is not possible! Crouch, Jr., is dead and so is – You-Know-Who!”

“Not anymore,” Dumbledore said gravely.

Fudge jabbed a finger at Dumbledore. “I will not accept the word of two fourth year students!” he cried. “Potter’s got a history for being dramatic and that girl,” he pointed to Ginny, “once attacked the entire Muggleborn population of Hogwarts! I shall not believe anything they spit out.”

Ginny glared at Fudge; both Karkaroff and Maxime were looking at her strangely now. “The only source you have for Harry’s drama, as you put it, is the word of a cheap gossip journalist!”

Fudge glared at her. “I know for a fact that you, on the other hand, are a risk,” he said.

“My daughter is no risk!” her father burst out. 

“She nearly killed half of the Muggleborns in Hogwarts!”

“She was being possessed!”

Fudge waved his hands in the air again, as though he were trying to avoid the truth of their words. “No, no, no! I will not accept such foolishness! Dumbledore, I want a reasonable explanation and I want it now!”

Professor Dumbledore’s gaze moved back to Harry and Ginny. Ginny felt that same prickle that she had when Dumbledore had entered her mind to speak with Harry, and allowed it in. 

_“Convincing him would be as irrational as he,”_ his voice whispered in their minds. _“I believe it would be best to lie low whilst we prepare.”_

Harry gave the tiniest of nods; Fudge, angled towards Dumbledore, did not see it.

“Ms. Sinestra’s mental health has been fragile for quite some time,” Dumbledore said softly. “She posed no danger to any of the students, or so it seemed, so I allowed her to remain here, as it appeared as if her study of the stars and her teaching were helping her keep a firmer grip on reality. However, I now see that she was merely biding her time until such a point where she could lash out. Ms. Sinestra lacked the mark of a Death Eater, which also contributed to her ability to fool me. I cannot explain the actions of the two Ministry workers, but I will want an action regarding Mr. Bagman’s behavior towards my students.” The Minister looked doubly flustered.

“Bagman? Your students? What?”

Dumbledore eyed Fudge harshly over his glasses. “I have been receiving anonymous reports since February that his attitude to the female students is more friendly than would be acceptable. Only recently was a student willing to give her name, after accusing him of extremely improper behavior towards while drunk. Her parents are pressing charges, and I will back them up.”

Fudge deflated. “Oh. Yes. Yes, that must have been the problem here. Bagman never let on to any kind of… preference while working for the Ministry, but indeed a thorough search into his actions will be completed, I assure you. And, uh, please have this girl’s parents contact me so I might express my apologies and offer help in their case.”

Ginny stared at her feet. She had always gotten a funny feeling whenever Bagman was around, but she’d always thought it was just his exuberant personality that set her on edge. She guessed that she was, perhaps, fortunate that she had always been slightly wary of him.

“In the case of Mr. Crouch, I believe that his house elf reported that he was showing signs of decline in his old age before he released her from his employ. I do recall one of his colleagues telling me that he was forgetting things.”

Fudge glanced over at Harry and Ginny. “Yes, it was merely the actions of three addled minds. I will deal with the press, and Mr. Diggory’s parents shall receive aid after the tragic accident that claimed the life of their son.”

Harry gritted his teeth. Sinestra pushing a foot long knife into his ribs was no accident.

_“We shall have to remain silent for now, Harry,”_ Dumbledore’s voice reminded them. _“Once we have sufficient evidence to prove the return of the Dark Lord, we will reveal everything.”_

Ginny gave Harry’s hand a squeeze and nodded to Dumbledore. 

Finally Fudge fixed his gaze on Harry. “Harry, my boy, please accept the Ministry’s sincerest apologies that we did not catch the signs of any of these three individual’s instability. As soon as they are caught, they will be sentenced to a good long time in Azkaban.”

Harry couldn’t think of how to reply, so he merely nodded. Fudge inclined his head to the others in the room, then left. Karkaroff glanced around, then followed the Minister out, but Maxime stayed.

“I ‘ope you do not expect me to believe a moment of zat man’s weak explanations,” she said to Dumbledore. 

“You would believe Harry’s story?” Dumbledore asked. 

“I would,” Maxime said. “As I know they are bonded, I understand ‘ow Miss Weazley knows.” 

Ginny was stunned. She looked to Dumbledore but found that he was just as startled. She looked around, but every face was displaying the same shock. 

“Bonded?” Dumbledore said.

“Do not try to deny,” Maxime said dismissively. “I know. I ‘ave not seen two people connected as closely as zese two in my life.”

“How?” Ginny asked.

Maxime looked at her with something akin to pride. “I am bonded myself,” she told them. “Not nearly as tightly as you and Mr. Potter, but enough zat I may recognize any signs of it.”

Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged.

“But zis is not ze point,” Maxime turned back to Dumbledore. “Ze Dark Lord has risen again, yes?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore answered, still a bit startled. “Yes, he has. I cannot say how or through what method, but he is.”

“You led the resistance during his last regime,” Maxime began. “What do you propose we do?”

“We will remain quiet,” Dumbledore said. “For now. We shall slowly build up our defense. Voldemort currently is low on supporters,” he told them. “What few that escaped imprisonment in Azkaban were only half of those that responded to his call. He will want to build up his own ranks and defenses before exposing himself.”

“So we prepare,” Maxime said. “Very well. I shall increase my student’s study of defense; I suggest you do the same.”

“Professor Lupin has already been teaching them a myriad of defensive spells and techniques,” Dumbledore said, gesturing to Remus. “I suggest that any of your students’ families that might believe that he is back, you warn. I will do the same.”

“Shall we include Karkaroff?” 

Dumbledore hesitated before answering. “No. His school is far enough away from Voldemort’s old stomping grounds that Durmstrang is not much of a target. Likely, he will go into hiding anyway as he did not answer the call to arms and Durmstrang will have to take a new Headmaster.”

Maxime nodded. “Yes, you are right. Very well. I must go and speak wiz Monsieur and Madame Delacour. I wish you luck, Dumbly-door.”

Dumbledore inclined his head to her and she left the room. 

“What should we do?” Dad asked him.

“Be on your guard,” Dumbledore told him. “I will reform the Order of the Phoenix, and must ask you if you would rejoin.”

“Of course,” Mum said. “Anything to help.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Good. Second, I will ask you to allow me to personally place wards over your home. We will not use the Fidelius just yet, but once Voldemort exposes himself, I will.”

Mum nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”

The doors to Dumbledore’s office flew open again and Moody strode in, pulling along the very same man who’d brewed Voldemort’s potion. Harry tensed, and oddly enough, so did her mother.

“Alastor,” Dumbledore said. “What is this?”

“He brought the other three out of the maze,” Moody said. “Said he wanted to talk with you personally.”

The man took a step forward. He was squinting at the light, and wringing his hands. His hair was long and unwashed, he wore a beard almost as tangled as Hagrid’s, his hands and arms bore the marks of spells and burns, and he was emaciated, like he’d been living on scraps for years.

“I want your protection,” the man said in his hoarse voice.

“What makes you think I’d grant it?” Dumbledore said.

The man pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and held it out. Dumbledore came out from behind his desk and took the paper. Ginny’s mother stretched her arm to reach across both Harry’s shoulders and Ginny’s. Ginny glanced at her and saw a mixture of worry and confusion on her face.

“Where did you find this?” Dumbledore asked the man softly.

“The book itself,” he replied. 

“Would you have the book?” Dumbledore pressed.

The man nodded. “Protection?”

“Yes, you have it,” Dumbledore said. “The book.”

The man pulled a worn, leather bound journal-like tome from his robes and handed it over. Dumbledore took it and turned to the very last page.

“Oh my god,” he whispered.

“What is it?” Ginny asked.

“Has Voldemort had time to study this?” Dumbledore asked.

“No,” he answered. “But there’s copies of parts of it, at the house.”

Dumbledore’s face was white. “Copies?”

“Yeah. Philip was copying it down as I translated and decoded it.”

Dumbledore closed the book and set it on his desk. “My god,” he said again.

“Excuse me,” Ginny said. “But what is it?”

“And who is he?” Sirius asked.

“Abraham Vance,” the man said. 

“Brom,” Mum said. Ginny glanced at her father; his face was white.

Abraham Vance glanced at her sharply. “Molly?”

Mum nodded. “But – you were dead,” she whispered.

Vance shook his head. “Kidnapped,” he told her. 

“And Vanessa?”

Vance’s shoulders fell. “I haven’t seen her in years,” he answered, his voice hollow.

“Mum?” Ginny said. “You know him?”

“He was a friend of my brother’s in school,” Mum answered absently. “I was close with his wife.”

Ginny turned her gaze back on Vance. His eyes were flat and empty. 

“Which parts were copied?” Dumbledore asked.

Vance looked away. “I dunno. Philip ne’er said.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking down at the book in his hands. “Would you be able to tell me if – if the Corivini Odere spell was copied?”

Vance shrugged.

“What is that?” Sirius asked Dumbledore.

“This book…” he began. “This book is one of the original copies of the Black Book of Felicia Tiberina.”

Remus frowned. “The woman who invented the Cruciatus?” Both Harry and Ginny stiffened, looking up at Dumbledore with wide eyes.

Dumbledore nodded. “As well as the Imperius. She invented nearly a quarter of the Darkest spells and potions known to man. She created so many she chose to write them all down and create her own spellbook.”

Ginny suddenly eyed the book with suspicion. Dumbledore continued. “There were a total of fifty copies ever made, by her many apprentices, but 28 of those have been destroyed and another 13 confiscated by the Ministry. There was one copy in the Restricted Section, but I removed it and it is currently locked in my private library as Hogwarts books have been heavily enchanted to resist any, conscious or not, attempts to destroy them.”

“Leaving eight unaccounted for,” Remus said.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “But with the discovery of this, that would make seven.”

“No, eight,” Vance said.

Dumbledore frowned. “I suppose that this Philip character’s copy could count but –”

Vance shook his head. “It’s not a complete copy so it wouldn’t, but that isn’t one of the original fifty copies.”

Dumbledore’s frown deepened. “You believe that there were more copies made after her death?”

Vance shook his head again. “No, that’s not a copy.”

Dumbledore set the book on his desk. “What are you implying?”

“That is the original Black Book.”

“The original was destroyed,” Dumbledore said. “I personally know the man who burned it.”

“That was probably the backup copy Felicia made herself,” Vance said. “That is the very first of her spellbooks ever written.”

Dumbledore looked down at the book, then he hurried away to the staircase leading up to the upper level of his office, and disappeared in a doorway. A moment later, he reappeared holding an equally worn, leather tome. He opened both books to the final pages, and whispered to himself. 

“My god,” he repeated once again. 

“Original,” Vance declared.

Dumbledore turned to him. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

“Aurora Sinestra bought it,” Vance said. “From a bookshop in Knockturn Ally.”

“Where did they get it?”

“Malfoy sold it,” Harry said.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. “Lucius Malfoy had the original spellbook of Felicia Tiberina?” he said. 

“Probably didn’t know that it was,” Vance said with a shrug. “The book was in her native dialect, a mash-up of Latin words and Greek characters, and encoded very heavily.”

“So heavily that it took you from August to early May to completely decode it,” Ginny said.

Vance looked at her. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Miss Weasley seems to have the gift of prophetic dreams,” Dumbledore answered. Ginny glanced at her parents, but since they didn’t look surprised she supposed that Dumbledore had written them about it. 

Vance nodded appreciatively. “Vanessa had a way with divination,” he murmured. 

Dumbledore stroked his beard again. “I suppose that this is what you used to bring Lord Voldemort back?”

“No magic can awaken the dead,” Remus put in.

“That’d be true, and it would’ve meant You-Know-Who was screwed, ‘cept he wasn’t dead.”

Dumbledore eyed Vance cautiously. “So I suspected.”

“He lived through Black Magic,” Vance said. “There’s a recipe for it in the spellbook, but she didn’t come up with it.”

“And what Black Magic would that be?” 

“He made a deal with the devil,” Vance answered hoarsely.

Dumbledore looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”

“He made a deal with the devil,” Vance repeated. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean he sold his soul to the devil for the power to escape death.”

“Through what?”

“A cursed object, the spell’s in there. You kill a young person, preferably virtuous and a virgin, and trap their soul, then summon the devil, and the devil cuts part of your soul out of your body and places it into an object, tying your soul to the mortal world forevermore unless it is destroyed. The devil then takes the soul of the person you killed and damns it, unless the object and you, everything holding your soul, are destroyed.”

Dumbledore’s face went, if possible, even whiter. “A Horcrux,” he said.

Vance nodded. 

Ginny looked between Dumbledore, Vance, and Harry. “So he can’t die?” she said.

Abraham Vance fixed his eyes on hers. “Unless those objects are destroyed, his soul won’t ever leave the mortal plane. His body can expire or be destroyed, howe’er his soul will remain.”

Ginny’s eyes met Harry’s. His face showed only weariness, but she felt the fear still pulsating through him. She gripped his hands tighter.

“This bodes ill,” Dumbledore whispered. “I knew he was using the Dark Arts to preserve his life, but I had no idea how deep it went…”

Dumbledore’s eyes suddenly moved to the pair of them sitting with Molly. His normally bright blue irises were a duller color as he stared at them. His expression displayed the many worrisome years he’d lived and the apprehension he now held.

“I suspected…” he murmured. “But now… I suppose that this proves it…”

“Proves what?” Mum asked.

Dumbledore glanced at Vance. “Alastor, if you would please escort Mr. Vance to the Hospital Wing for medicine and a hot meal.”

Vance bowed his head in thanks as Moody opened the door with his wand. The two left, and Moody pulled the doors shut behind him.

Dumbledore’s gaze drifted over to where Harry and Ginny were sitting once more. “I had suspected, no, dreaded –” his voice was quiet, as though he wasn't meaning for them to hear – "ever since you brought it to me two years ago what it was…” he went on, and even though he trailed off halfway through the sentence, Ginny understood what he meant.

“The diary,” she murmured. Dumbledore nodded vaguely.

“Yes. The diary.” He slowly lowered himself into his chair, his hands coming up to rub his temples. “Such black magic should have been removed from our libraries centuries ago.”

“There was a recipe for a – a Horcrux –” Remus breathed the word as if scared it would attack him – “in the Hogwarts library?”

Dumbledore gestured to the Black Book of Felicia Tiberina on his desk. “As a copy of this was in our library, what would you expect? The recipe for a Horcrux was not in that copy, however there were other books that mentioned it. I had them relocated to the Headmaster’s Library once I became Headmaster, but I should have known I was too late.”

Ginny glanced up to a portrait of a wizened old man with fluffy white hair behind Dumbledore’s desk; Armando Dippet snored particularly loudly. 

“Do you mean to say that You-Know-Who learned how to make one of those from a library book?” Sirius burst out.

“I was not Headmaster when Tom Riddle attended Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said, a touch of anger in his voice. “I had pleaded on several occasions with Professor Dippet to remove those books that gave specifics or even allusions on the subject, however as all of them contained some other magic that our seventh years needed to study, in his eyes," Dumbledore gave a sigh, "he deemed it necessary to leave them.”

Sirius’s face fell. “I see,” he muttered.

Dumbledore looked up at them. He fixed his gaze on Harry once more, then sighed. “Mrs. Weasley, if you would accompany me to the Hospital Wing to escort Harry and Ginny?”

Ginny’s mother nodded quickly. She stood and pulled Harry up with her. “Come along dears,” she murmured. “It’s best if you went to bed.”

Harry put his arm around her waist; she put hers on his shoulder blade and began moving her hand in a slow, circular pattern. Mum had her arm through his and she led them to the door as Dumbledore came up behind them. He led them away, as Sirius, Remus, and her father followed them. Ginny didn’t pay attention to where her feet were going. Her parents flanked her and Harry as they moved, Dumbledore in front and Sirius and Remus behind. Before she realized it, they had entered the Hospital Wing and Mum had pushed them onto a bed. 

Harry was still staring blankly at his feet, his arm tightly gripping her waist. She lowered her head onto his shoulder and whispered in her mind. _It’ll be alright._

Slowly, he shook his head.

Later, Ginny only vaguely remembered Madam Pomfrey giving them both Dreamless Sleep Potions. As her eyes began to close, she heard Dumbledore speaking with her parents and the matron, and then curtains were set up around the bed they sat on and the next one, then Madam Pomfrey pushed the two beds up against each other. Mum came in, then another curtain was set up and her mother helped her into clean pajamas. When the extra curtain was put away, she saw Harry asleep on the bed in his own pajamas, Remus and Sirius standing by the bed. Dad was sitting in a chair near the foot of her bed. Mum helped her lay down, then pulled the blankets up over her. She only vaguely registered that there was no gap between the two beds and that she and Harry shared blankets. She laid her head on the pillow and took Harry’s hand. He sleepily raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, then she too fell asleep.

When Ginny next awoke, there was a candle on the nightstand and her bladder was demanding attention. She blearily sat up and rubbed her eyes, then slipped out of the curtained off area. The light of the candle barely reached past the curtains, so she quickly turned back to fetch it. She made her way quickly but sleepily to the bathroom and back after washing her hands. Ginny set the candle back and saw both of her dad and Sirius asleep in chairs by the two beds. She wondered why they were both there, then saw that the beds had been pushed together. She was at first confused, then she remembered what had happened. She climbed back under the blankets, where immediately Harry shifted and threw his arm out. Ginny hesitated, then lay down against his side, putting her head on his arm. The soft cotton of his pajama sleeve was cool against her cheek; she was soon asleep.

“Ginny, Harry, wake up!”

Ginny opened one eye. Was she in trouble? Mum had specifically helped her lay down in a bed pushed up against Harry’s; that must have meant she was okay with it. She blinked to clear sleep and saw Sirius leaning over the bed, shaking Harry’s shoulder.

“What?” he mumbled.

“Fudge is coming in to speak with you,” he said. “We have to move the beds.”

So they were not in trouble. Ginny rubbed at her face, then shifted. She had been laying with her back to Harry’s side with her head resting on a pillow she’d pulled to his arm. As she moved Harry rolled over, ignoring Sirius, and threw his arm over her waist. Ginny, heavily tempted to stay put, didn’t immediately move. 

“The Minister of Magic is coming,” Ginny heard her mother’s voice above her. She pouted; it was so warm under the blankets with her best friend. Reluctantly, she moved Harry’s arm and pushed him over to his bed. 

_Whaaat?_ Harry’s voice came to her with sleep and irritation. _Now I’m cold._

_Fudge is coming._

_To fudge with Fudge._

_Is that even the right replacement for the right curse?_

_I dunno._

Ginny felt her bed move, and the blankets were suddenly two sets. Mum adjusted her blankets and fluffed her pillows. Ginny caught her mother’s hand and then her mother bent down and hugged her.

“You’re alright, my pet,” she whispered. She kissed the top of Ginny’s head, then pulled back. Ginny rolled over to look at Harry. She stifled a snort. He had a scowl on his face and his eyes were only half open, and in her mind she could see from his point of view that it was suddenly too cold where he was.

The curtains were suddenly pulled back and Remus strode in. “Fudge is here,” he breathed, and then the Minister himself appeared in the doorway of the infirmary, followed by McGonagall. 

“They are resting!” McGonagall hissed.

“I need to speak with Potter,” Fudge snapped at her. He strode right past Remus and stopped at Harry’s bed.

“Harry, are you awake?” he said in a voice that was loud enough that it would have woken him if he hadn’t already been up.

“No,” Harry grumbled.

“Good. I must speak to you about the Tournament. I have taken Miss Delacour and Mister Krum’s statement and they have both agreed that you reached the trophy first.”

“Can’t this wait, Minister?” Mum asked.

“No, no, I won’t take long. The ceremony to declare you winner is scheduled for this afternoon at 1 o’clock sharp, Harry.”

Harry sat up very suddenly and Ginny felt his head go light. He shuddered and Sirius gripped his shoulder. Harry squinted at Fudge. “What?” he said.

“You have won the Tri-Wizard Tournament,” Fudge said. “It is best we brush over the whole business of last night and help the people move on before panic ensues, you see. There’ll be a reporter and a photographer from the _Daily Prophet_ coming and you’ll be asked to give a short statement; I’d ask that you take a moment to reassure the public that last night’s accidents were merely that, accidents.”

“You want me to help you cover up Cedric’s mur –”

_Remember, Dumbledore wants quiet!_

Harry stopped mid-sentence. He glanced at her, then he scowled for real. “I’m not giving a statement.”

“Minister,” Professor McGonagall said sternly. “Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley need their rest. Please excuse yourself; you may speak to them later.”

Fudge shot her an angry look. “I shall speak to them now, if I like. Fortunately for you, I have said all I need to say.” He gave a short bow to Harry, then strode away. Harry fell back against his pillows with a huff. 

“I will not give some bullshit statement to the _Prophet_ ,” he said firmly.

Both Mum and McGonagall glared at his wording. He lost a bit of his boldness and muttered an apology. Ginny rolled her eyes. 

“You are not required to speak to the reporter,” McGonagall said, “unfortunately you must attend. Dumbledore will explain it all to you later. It is only half past eight, go back to sleep.” She glanced at Mum, then nodded at the beds and left.

“Let’s get you two back together,” Mum said softly. 

“Why are you letting us sleep like that?” Ginny asked as she and Sirius levitated the beds together again.

“Dumbledore thought it would be best after what you went through,” she said softly. 

“We were worried if we kept you too far apart, you might get a panic attack or whatever it was like you did in February,” Sirius continued.

Ginny nodded. Her mother charmed the blankets into one, and she pulled her pillow closer to Harry’s. Harry took her hand and held it on his pillow, his eyes closed. He was asleep again.

Later, her mother came back and woke them up. She and Madam Pomfrey put the beds back and put a curtain between the two so they could get dressed. Mum had brought her a set of the robes she’d bought last summer as well as the pair of black pumps. When she stepped out, she saw Harry was wearing nice robes as well. She raised her eyebrows at her mother.

“For the ceremony,” Mum said. “Now, come along, we’ll have lunch in the Great Hall with everyone else.”

Ginny took Harry’s hand. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, and they followed her mother to the Great Hall. When they arrived, they found it nearly full. The hall fell suddenly silent, every eye on Harry.

Mum steered Harry as quickly as possible to the Gryffindor table. Fred and George made room for them in between them and they sat down, Fred on Ginny’s right and George on Harry’s left. Talk slowly resumed; they ate their lunch in silence however. As soon as they finished, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny left the hall to wander out to the grounds. It was almost one, and those still in the Great Hall would soon find themselves being asked to leave in order to prepare for the Awards Ceremony. 

“Did someone tell you what happened?” Harry asked Hermione and Ron.

They nodded. “Mum explained,” Ron said. 

Hermione hugged Harry quickly, then Ginny. She left her arm entwined with Ginny’s. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” Hermione said. Harry only shrugged.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

Ginny squeezed his hand again. “Dumbledore’s worried we might get attacks again like we did in February.”

Ron stiffened. “He doesn’t think you’ve got even less time apart, does he? You’re barely getting seven hours of sleep per night as it is.”

Ginny shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter to me if we do; we’d just ask Dumbledore to give us special quarters.”

“Is he allowed to do that?” Hermione asked. “I mean, you’d be allowed them if you were married, but as far as I’m aware two students of opposite gender aren’t allowed to stay in the same room without supervision.”

The three of them looked at her. “How do you know that?” Ron asked.

“I looked it up after this first happened.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe we’ll have to. I don’t know. First we have to deal with this – this ceremony. Fudge wants me to tell the _Prophet_ that everything that happened was an accident.”

Ron scowled. “Why can’t we just say that You-Know-Who is back?”

Harry shrugged. “Dumbledore said that since barely any Death Eaters answered Voldemort’s call –” Ron and Hermione flinched – “he would lay low until he got more supporters, so we should do the same.”

Hermione nodded understandingly. “That sounds reasonable.”

Harry nodded vaguely. His gaze had drifted to the distant Quidditch Pitch, where the maze was still standing. Ginny hoped they would destroy it soon. 

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall’s voice rang out behind them. “We’re ready for you.”

They followed McGonagall back inside, as she did she gave Harry a recap of what Fudge was trying to do. It sounded to Ginny as if the Minister was merely trying to save his own neck rather than calm the public, but she didn't say anything. The tables had been put away and the room was filled with chairs. Ron and Hermione went to take seats with the Fred and George, while McGonagall led Harry and Ginny up to the raised platform. The hall was mostly empty at that time, but Remus and Sirius were sitting in chairs where the top table would normally be. Harry sat down next to Sirius, and they watched the hall fill. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory took seats in one of the first rows; they were both crying silently. Madam Maxime led Fleur to sit Remus, then Krum joined them. Karkaroff was missing. Krum sat on Ginny’s right, and caught Harry’s eye.

“Did Fudge ask you to lie as vell?” Krum asked him softly. Harry nodded. Krum snorted. “Your Headmaster asks me to say nothing; he says he has a plan. Is this true?” Harry nodded again. Krum set his jaw, then looked down at his arms. Or rather arm. His right arm was nothing but a bandaged stump at the elbow. He held his wand tightly in his left hand.

“How will you cope?” Ginny asked him softly.

Krum shrugged. “As a Quidditch Player, I have had to learn to use both hands. My right was always better, but I can still go about using my left.”

Ginny nodded. She grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze, then let go. Krum stared down at his hand, his face blank. 

Finally, the hall had filled. Fudge and two other official looking wizards mounted the platform with Dumbledore. There was unenthusiastic applause. Dumbledore caught their eyes and subtly touched a finger to his lips. Fudge stepped up to the edge of the platform with a wide smile and open arms. 

“Thank you!” he said, his voice echoing through the hall. “Welcome to the Final Awards of the Tri-Wizard Tournament!”

Fudge’s demeanor softened. “I must first ask, before we commence, that we hold a moment of silence for Cedric Diggory. Cedric was struck down by a wyvern in last night’s task, and despite his great effort to get to the edge of the maze to find help, he passed away. Please join me in honoring his memory.”

Fudge clasped his hands before him and stared down at the ground. The hall had been silent even before he had spoken, and remained so. A moment later, shorter than Ginny would have liked, Fudge looked up and smiled.

“In accordance with Mr. Diggory’s parents’ wishes, we shall still hold our awards to honor those who completed the Third Task. In last place, we have Miss Fleur Delacour!”

There was a smattering of applause. No one cheered. Fudge waved Fleur forward, shook her hand, then smiled for a photographer that was sitting in the front row. “Miss Delacour, please accept this medal for your accomplishment.”

He turned and one of the other two wizards handed him a fine velvet box. He opened it, paused for the camera flash, then Fleur bowed her head and Fudge draped it over her neck. The bronze medal, shaped like a sun, glinted in the light. The camera flashed again and Fudge closed the box. She took it, curtsied to the crowd and then to him, and returned to her seat. 

“In second place is Viktor Krum!”

Krum rose to his feet and strode forward. Fudge held out his right hand, then quickly retracted and held out his left. The camera flashed and Fudge repeated the same process. He draped a silver medal of the same shape as Fleur’s around Krum’s neck, then Krum returned to his seat. 

“In first place, we have Harry Potter! Mr. Potter reached the Tri-Wizard Trophy first of our champions, and it is with great honor I award him first place, with it the Trophy, its medal, and the thousand galleon prize!”

Harry rose to his feet. He shook hands with Fudge. Fudge gave him his medal, and then the bag of gold and lastly the trophy. Harry moved robotically, stopping so the photographer could capture the image of Fudge shaking his hand again while Harry held the trophy, then returned to his seat. Fudge then launched into a speech about the Tri-Wizard Tournament itself, how he hoped that it had brought them all together, that they had all learned a lot that year, and a lot of more political waffle. Neither of them paid him attention. They would get the important bits from Hermione later. 

When Fudge finally finished, Dumbledore began the applause, probably to be sure there was any. Fudge bowed to the crowd, and he and the other two Ministry officials left the stage.

Dumbledore rose and stepped forward. “You are dismissed,” he said. Ginny straightened. She had felt sure he would have said something. It seemed many in the audience thought the same, for there was grumbling as they stood and made their way out of the Great Hall. Ginny took the trophy from Harry as he pushed the sack of gold into his robes and they followed Remus and Sirius down the steps and out of the hall. Ginny caught sight of more than one reporter hurrying their way towards them, but Sirius and Remus both placed themselves in the way. The crowd was huge, yet Remus gripped Harry’s shoulder and steered him up the marble staircase, then away from everyone else and towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Sirius opened the doors for them and they entered the two teachers quarters off of Remus’s office. Ginny look around and saw that the sitting room was moderately tidy; the two bedroom doors were open and in one she could see that it was neat and ordered, whereas the other was messy and there were clothes piled on the floor. She guessed that the latter belonged to Sirius. Harry dropped down onto a couch and closed his eyes. He then pulled off the medal and set it down on the coffee table. Remus moved towards the kitchenette that was off the sitting room and started to make tea.

“Do you want me to go to Gringotts and deposit that gold for you?” Sirius asked Harry as he closed the door to the messier of the two bedrooms. 

Harry pulled it from his pocket and stared at it. Then, he shook his head. “No, I’ve got a plan.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow but said nothing. The kettle whistled and Remus poured water into four mugs with tea bags in them. Ginny set down Harry’s trophy and moved to the kitchen and took two of the mugs while Remus took the others, then they both joined Sirius and Harry by the couches. She handed Harry his cup then sat down. Harry murmured a thanks and sipped at it. Remus gave Sirius a cup then sat down on an armchair. Sirius sat himself on the arm of Remus’s chair, leaning towards him. 

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked.

“Finish our tea,” Remus said, taking a sip.

Harry put the cup down. “No, I’m being serious.”

“I’m Sirius,” said Sirius.

Harry shook his head. “No, not – forget it. What are we going to do about Voldemort?”

The two of them did not flinch. Remus merely took another sip of his tea and set his hand on Sirius’s knee. “We will continue your schooling. Perhaps with more dueling lessons, but for the most part you will not need to do anything.”

Harry scowled. “What d’you mean, nothing?”

Sirius held up a hand. “Not literally nothing, but in essence, the only thing that will change for you is you’ll have increased security. Dumbledore promised to put up wards around the Burrow and your grandmother’s farm, more than those already there.”

“Gram has wards?” Harry said.

“Of course,” Remus said. “When the war first began, Dumbledore put wards over the house of every member and their immediate family if they were in danger. When You-Know-Who first went after you, he put up wards around your grandmother’s house and your aunt’s because they were Muggles, especially since your grandfather was in such a weak state at the time.”

Harry frowned. “My grandfather?” Ginny glanced at him. _I’d never thought about a grandfather,_ he thought. She squeezed his hand. 

“Yeah, your granddad,” Sirius said. “I talked to him at your parents’ wedding, though not any other time. He was a nice bloke, but he had cancer.”

“Lung cancer,” Remus elaborated. Sirius nodded then went on.

“The poor man could barely take two steps without wheezing. He had this thing in his nose that helped him breathe though.”

“An oxygen tube?” Harry asked. Remus nodded. 

“He died a little more than a month before… before your parents did. You were actually the last person he talked to.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I don’t remember.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t,” Sirius said. “You were only 13 months old. We had to drive you and your parents to Ottery St. Catchpole so Lily could say goodbye to him before he went, she did, he asked to hold you, then he spoke to you and he died.”

“But – but my gram implied he and my mother didn’t get on,” Harry said.

Sirius shrugged. “Mr. Evans went to church, so it was probably magic he disagreed with but I never saw them say an unkind thing to each other.”

_I’m sure they were on good terms when he died,_ Ginny thought.

_Yeah. I hope so._

“What did he say?” Ginny asked.

“What?” Remus said.

“Mr. Evans, what did he say to Harry?”

Remus looked downwards. “I… I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

Sirius looked uncomfortable. He gripped Remus’s shoulder, but answered her question. “He said something along the lines of be a good boy, don’t upset your parents, I love you, y’know.”

Harry nodded vaguely. The knowledge that he had been the reciever of a man’s last words seemed less important to him at that time. “But then those wards would still be up?”

“They should be. Dumbledore will strengthen and double them anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d done it already,” his godfather answered him.

Harry raised up his arms and stretched, yawning as he did. He still felt very tired, despite having more sleep than normal.

_You want to go back to bed?_ Ginny suggested.

Harry shook his head. “Not now.”

“Not now what?” Sirius asked. Harry started; he hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. Ginny smirked. Then Sirius seemed to get it and he sighed. “Telepaths,” he muttered. Remus chuckled.

There was a knock at the door and both Remus and Sirius jumped up. They glanced at Harry and Ginny, then at each other; Sirius cleared his throat and gestured to the door. Remus rolled his eyes and went to answer it. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall came in, along with her parents. Ginny waved to them slightly as she set down her tea. 

“We have been discussing your situation,” Dumbledore said. “As the exams are nearly all done, we will send all the students home next Friday. O.W.L.’s and N.E.W.T.’s will be finished by then, and all other exams as well.”

Ginny nodded. She’d hoped that she’d gotten good marks. Harry hadn’t had to take them as he was in the Tournament. 

“In the meantime, you two will remain in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey and Mrs. Weasley shall monitor you for any changes, but I am afraid that we will have to perform an experiment.”

Ginny glanced at her parents. They were looking grim.

Dumbledore continued. “The last we knew, you are able to withstand eight hours of separation. During school months, you were able to get to each other in the morning before anything amiss could happen, however at home the situation will be different.”

Harry glanced at her. His neck was turning pink.

“We need to know precisely how long you can manage without the other,” Dumbledore said. “If it has become any shorter than eight hours, your parents, Ginny, have agreed to allow you to share a room at home; I also contacted your aunt and grandmother, Harry, and they also agreed.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. Her parents wanted, actually wanted, her to share a room with a boy? They’d gotten antsy when she was still sharing with Ron at the age of eight, how could they be willing now that she was fifteen?

_Probably because they’re worried that we’ll blow up the face of the earth if we don’t,_ Harry thought. She stifled a smile but agreed with him.

“What will we need to do?” she asked.

Dumbledore straightened his spine. “After all the other students have gone home, you two will remain. I will have one of you in the East Wing, and the other in the West. Harry will be with Remus and Sirius, and Ginny, you will be with your parents. They will have a Portkey with them that as soon as one of you fall ill, they will use it to get to the other.”

“What if we both Portkey at the same time?” Harry asked.

“The Portkey will take you to the Great Hall,” Dumbledore said. “When one is activated, the other will glow and activate as well so you both would be transported.”

Ginny nodded. “And we’d have to do only a max of eight hours?”

“Seven and a half,” Dumbledore said. “If nothing happens by then, you will activate your Portkey and join me in the Great Hall to come up with further plans.”

Ginny looked to Harry. Didn’t we hear about something like this before? Harry thought. _In that journal?_

“Professor,” Ginny said, “didn’t Headmaster Kyrillos attempt something similar once?” Dumbledore nodded. She continued before he could. “Didn’t that go horribly wrong?”

Dumbledore nodded again. “Yes, it did, however in their case they had no maximum. We already know that you cannot stomach more than eight hours, and therefore shall not go past that. They also did not have Portkeys.”

Harry shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

“Okay,” Ginny said. “We’ll do it.” 

Dumbledore inclined his head gratefully. “Thank you. You may remain here if you wish until it is time for dinner, or you may eat here and then go to the Hospital Wing.”

“We’re going to go home and spruce it up before the boys get home,” Mum said, stepping forward. Ginny stood up and went to meet her mother in a hug. Harry got up and hugged her too; Ginny hugged her dad and he shook Harry’s hand. Dumbledore bowed them out, then he and Professor McGonagall left.

“We can make you dinner,” Remus said. 

“Or rather, he can,” Sirius corrected. “I can’t cook to save my life.”

Ginny smiled. “If you’d like, Harry.”

He shrugged. “It’d be nice to not have anyone staring at me.”

Ginny turned to face him and widened her eyes. He rolled his and sidestepped her. “I can help cook, Remus.”

Remus smiled gratefully at him. Sirius looked at Ginny. She raised her hands defensively. “Hey, I may be my mum’s daughter but all I can make is the boxed stuff she brings home sometimes.”

Sirius let out a snort and dropped down onto the armchair Remus had vacated. “Well, then in the meantime we can listen to the radio. I think the Arrows are playing Puddlemere United tonight.”

Ginny knelt and turned on the wireless on the coffee table. It hummed to life then out came the voice of an announcer. _“… and Appleby Chaser Perry scores with a nice left right feint!”_

“Hey, can I use your bathroom?” Ginny asked.

Sirius nodded as he leaned forward in his chair. “Through there on the left. Mind you you don’t get the closet.” He pointed to the closed bedroom door.

She said her thanks then opened the door. The room smelled like a window was open, and she spotted the fluttering curtains to the right. The bed was unmade and clothes lay on the floor. She moved into the bathroom and saw two toothbrushes. She frowned. Didn’t they have their own bathrooms?

Ginny did her business and as she was washing her hands, she noticed the different shampoo bottles in the shower. One she recognized as the same thing Ron used, the other was what Percy used. She thought that perhaps this was the only bathroom in their quarters and left. 

The curtain was open just enough to cast a shadow on the unmade bed, where there were two distinct hollows in the pillows at the head of the bed. Ginny narrowed her eyes.

_What?_ Harry’s voice came.

_There’s something odd here,_ she thought. 

_What?_

_I don’t know._

She left the room, closing the door behind her just in time to hear Sirius whoop as the Arrows scored twice in a row. Ginny walked over to the kitchenette where Remus was stirring rice. “Hey, Remus,” she asked, “which room is yours?” 

“That one,” he said absently, gesturing to the room she’d just left. “I was never that good at rice, but this instant stuff is so strange.”

She murmured an ascent, but wasn't particularly paying attention. She wandered over to the other room, and looked over it. The bed was made, and in fact so stiffly that it looked like it hadn’t been used in weeks. The closet was open and empty. No curtains hung over the window and there was another bathroom.

_What?_ Harry thought, popping a slice of sweet pepper into his mouth. He had paused cutting the peppers up to stare at her.

Ginny turned and fixed her eyes on his. _They’re gay._

Harry choked slightly on his pepper slice. _Excuse me? What makes you think that?_

Ginny shrugged, walking back over to the couch. She sat down and looked back at the radio. She half listened to it, half to Harry. _It’s just a hunch; I think they are anyway. That other room isn’t being used, but they’re both staying here._

_That doesn't make them gay! Maybe Sirius goes home at night._

_Maybe. I don't think so._

Harry huffed and went back to cutting up the peppers. _You're weird._

Ginny rolled her eyes, then turned her eyes to the radio. Puddlemere's Chaser had just dropped the Quaffle and Perry was heading for the goal posts again. She had mixed feelings about Puddlemere United; Harry's old Captain, Oliver Wood, was said to have been recruited for them, but he wasn't on the starting line-up. She considered Puddlemere to be on a lower level than most of Britain's teams, and favored the Arrows for this match.

Twenty minutes later, Remus and Harry had made stir fry, something Ginny had only had once before. It was very good, and they listened to the last of the match as they ate at the kitchen table, Sirius next to Remus facing away from the door, Harry and Ginny on the opposite side. Ginny was sure of herself and her discovery, though Harry denied it. 

_What if it is true?_ She posed. _What would you do then?_

 _Nothing, I suppose,_ he answered. _I mean, Gram says that it shouldn't matter who you love as long as you love them._

_Isn't she a church person though?_

_She's a nice church person. She also says that if it's not your business, then it's not your business and you should love that person anyway because that's what Jesus does._

_Jesus seems very nice._

_That's what Gram says._

Ginny caught his eye. Remus had just taken a mouthful of noodles as she turned to Sirius and asked, "Which is your room?"

Sirius gestured over his shoulder to the room Remus had claimed not so long ago. "That one," he said, taking another bite. Remus suddenly stopped chewing. Slowly, he swallowed and looked at her. 

"What are you playing at?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Ginny protested. She took a spoonful of rice.

Remus met Sirius's eyes, and they exchanged a look. Sirius looked suddenly guilty and his ears went pink. Harry, having heard her every thought, stared down at his plate with equally pink ears.

"Harry," Remus began. "Would you mind telling me what your girlfriend is implying?"

 _Don't look up,_ she warned him. Harry tried not to, but he glanced upwards for a fleeting second, and Remus caught his gaze. Ginny groaned as he looked back up, then at Sirius, then back at Remus and blurted: "She thinks you're sleeping in the same room."

Ginny aimed a kick at him under the table. _They're not supposed to know that we know!_

_I couldn't help it! I'm a horrible liar!_

_Obviously._

Remus's face paled. "You – you don't –”

Ginny quickly touched his arm. "No, no, Remus, it's alright. We'd never tell anyone and we don't care."

Sirius and Remus met eyes. "Er, no, but in the Wizarding community –” Remus stammered.

"The thoughts of the Wizarding community are governed by old, Pureblood men; all of which were born in a different era," Ginny announced. "Their opinions are outdated, and they shouldn't matter."

"Yes, but still –” Remus looked very uncomfortable – "they do matter, and if anyone knew –”

"Screw them," Harry said. "It doesn't matter who you love as long as you love them."

Sirius broke out into a grin. Then he leaned over and planted a kiss on Remus's mouth. Remus went very red and Ginny giggled. Remus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, looked down, then up at Harry. "Thank you," he said softly.

Harry nodded, then went back to eating.

_I still don’t get how you figured it out._

_All seeing eye, I suppose._

**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

That night, as Harry and Ginny lay asleep behind their curtains, Abraham Vance was in a bed across the room. While they slept, calmly he imagined, he lay wide awake. 

It was the first night in nearly thirteen years that he'd laid in a bed that was soft, or warm, or even worn clean pajamas. Even his marred and destroyed hands could detect the soft fabric of the sheets beneath him. He raised a hand and touched his face, feeling the smoothness of his skin. He'd forgotten what it was like to be clean shaven. The gentle light of the candle and the bobbing of the flame were so relaxing and warm, and even the scent of the melting wax was sweet.

A tear beaded in the corner of his eye; it spilled over and ran down his temple. Vanessa was still kept from him.


	28. The Fifth Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

 

 

**Chapter Twenty-Eight  
The Fifth Hour  
Ginny**

After dinner, Sirius and Remus escorted them back to the Hospital Wing. Sirius hugged them both and Remus ruffled Harry's hair before they left them with Madam Pomfrey and Ginny's mother. Mum gave them their pajamas; they changed in the sectioned part of their little area, and settled into the doubled bed. Ginny lay in the middle of her side and Harry in the middle of his, both staring at the ceiling.

 _Why is this awkward?_ Harry asked her.

 _We've slept together before,_ she replied.

 _We sleep together every Saturday,_ he thought.

_But that's under a tree by the lake…_

_Well, yes…_

_We've never shared an actual bed…_

_This is not going to get less awkward anytime soon, is it?_ Harry asked.

Ginny rolled onto her side and stared at him. He turned his head to meet her gaze. _Not soon,_ she agreed. _But maybe…_

_Maybe what?_

_Maybe if we kept sharing…_

_The bed?_

_Yeah. Maybe then it would get less awkward._

Harry snorted. _When would we ever get to share a bed ever again?_

She shrugged. Mum shook her head with a chuckle; she sat in a conjured recliner at the foot of their bed.

Ginny turned to face her mother. "You don't even know what we're saying."

"You're thinking that it's very awkward to be lying next to each other," Mum said evenly as she counted stitches in the tea cozy she was knitting.

Ginny was taken aback. "Wait, what?"

Mum looked up at them. "You're young. It'll come easier with time."

They looked at each other with wide eyes. "Time?" Harry said in a squeaky voice. "What d'you mean?"

Mum smiled knowingly and shook her head. "Teenagers," she murmured as she went back to her knitting.

"Mu-um," Ginny whined. "What are you talking about?"

"I said nothing," Mum chuckled. "I am simply an aged woman knitting."

"You're not aged," Harry insisted. Ginny whacked his arm.

"Don't argue with her, it'll only make it worse."

Harry huffed and turned his back to them. Mum chuckled again. Ginny blew a raspberry at him, then turned her back. Mum shook her head once more.

_It's difficult to be huffy when your mind is connected to the person you're huffing at._

Ginny rolled her eyes and punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape. She'd deal with him later. At that moment, she was wishing Madam Pomfrey had brought them sleep potions.

Harry fell asleep long before she did. Mum put away her knitting and leaned back with her feet up not long after Harry's breathing deepened and his thoughts drifted into his subconscious. It wasn't often that she was able to listen in on his dreams while awake, but at that moment his dreams seemed rather uninteresting. She shifted onto her back, staring upwards, and tried counting the stones in the ceiling above her.

When she reached two hundred and twenty three, her mind began to lag. By the time she tried to find two hundred and twenty four, she had fallen asleep. Her dreams were plain and held no revelation that she could remember by morning, and by that time she had shifted to the middle of the doubled bed, and Harry had pulled her to his chest. Ginny awoke briefly sometime after daybreak when Madam Pomfrey came in and checked them, then fell back into sleep's sweet clutches.

The next day, she and Harry spent in the common room with Ron and Hermione until Hermione suggested the four of them retire to the library to begin their summer work, which led to Ron as he typically did, refusing and calling her mental. Hermione huffed and left.

Ginny turned to look at Harry. "I do believe we've just been ditched."

Harry shrugged. "She's not here to force us to do homework, that's all I care about."

Ron gave both of them an annoyed look, and dropped his head onto his arm. Perhaps he felt irritated by their lack of irritation. Five minutes later got up, saying he had to go pack.

Ginny let out a sigh and leaned on Harry's shoulder. Their chairs had already been positioned so they were sitting with their knees touching, but now her body was parallel to his. It was warm where they were, and the sunlight drifting through the windows behind them gave them both auras of gold. Harry kissed the top of her hair and then rested his head on hers.

 _I wonder what they’re really up to though,_ Ginny thought.

_What?_

_Ron and Hermione. Well, mostly Ron; he’s been a bit shifty lately, don’t you think?_

_Maybe they’re off in a broom closet snogging,_ Harry thought with a touch of sarcasm.

Ginny laughed, then gripped Harry’s tie and pulled him in for a kiss. Harry smiled against her lips, then shifted in his chair to wrap his arms around her waist. Ginny put her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, and inhaled his scent. Her mind settled on the feeling of waking up in his arms, and she felt suddenly giddy. She would get to wake up next to him again the next morning, and then the next, until after the castle was emptied and it was time for Dumbledore's experiment. Ginny could not pin exactly why, but she abruptly did not want to wait for the next morning when she could wake up lying in his arms.

_I can't wait either, love._

They left sometime later and travelled downstairs for lunch. They found Ron and Hermione waiting for them, listening to Fred and George discussing their lack of enthusiasm for their next exam. After lunch they still had nothing to do so they wandered onto the grounds and lounged by the lake. They found their usual tree and sat beneath it, watching a group of seventh years playing in the shallows of the lake with the giant squid.

_Why does nothing feel different?_

Ginny glanced up at Harry. He was staring at the seventh years with a furrowed brow. _I guess they're just trying to hold on to their last few days before they're thrown into adulthood._

_Well, they don't know Voldemort is back. But why does nothing feel different with us?_

Ginny tried to fathom her next thought into English. _Maybe it's… I don't know._

_Voldemort is alive; he has a body and he has supporters. Why don't I feel…_

_Scared?_

_Yeah._

Ginny twisted around and pressed a kiss to his lips. _Maybe it's because my parents want us to sleep together._

Harry laughed. "I don't think that's it," he murmured, but he kissed her again anyway.

"Awww!"

They pulled back to see some of the seventh year girls regarding them like puppies. Ginny rolled her eyes, but Harry blushed and tried to look inconspicuous by scooting downwards. They giggled and one held out her hands to form a heart, then scattered as a couple of boys started spraying them with water.

 _Why does everyone think we're cute?_ Harry grumbled.

_Because we're younger than them and we're in a relationship. That's apparently cute._

_Apparently?_

_Apparently._

Harry sighed, but he still kissed her cheek. She grinned and pressed closer to him.

The next few days blurred together. They slept in their doubled bed in the Hospital Wing; laying down on separate sides of the bed and always waking up tangled together in the middle. Their minds seemed to be giving them a break from their strange dreams, and they slept calmly. They would get up for breakfast, do nothing until lunch, then continue doing nothing until dinner, after which they would listen to Quidditch or music or other radio programs on Sirius and Remus's wireless, then go back to bed and it would start back over. By the time the students were dismissed on Friday, the monotony of nothing had become slightly lackluster, however the anticipation of Dumbledore's experiment that afternoon was enough to keep them on their toes.

The two of them remained in the Hospital Wing while the student body travelled to the train station in Hogsmeade. Ginny watched them from the window as they got into carriages and left, some for the last time. It seemed to her that she was in a period in her life where the mortality of things was fascinating and horrifying to her. The fact that in only three years, she two would be leaving this castle to never return as a student was humbling.

By noon, everyone had left. Many of the teachers walked from the castle to Hogsmeade to Apparate home, including Snape. Ginny had thought for quite some time that he was Voldemort's helper, but with the arrival of Abraham Vance that thought had been quelled. Snape had remained subdued and worn since returning after New Year's, but that she attributed to the death of his mother. She watched him walk, his shoulders slumped and head bowed, until he was too small to watch anymore.

"Come and have some lunch, Ginny."

Ginny turned at the sound of her mother's voice. She nodded and crossed the hall to the small table that had been set up. There were sandwiches and jugs of juice on it, and Harry was already eating. She took one and sat down, though she did not particularly feel like eating. After they ate, they would be led to opposite ends of the castle.

Twenty minutes later, at 1 o'clock, Dumbledore arrived with Remus, Sirius, and her father. Remus and Dad were both holding a thin book, probably the Portkeys. Mum rose to her feet and smiled apprehensively at them.

"It's time," Dumbledore said.

Ginny set down her glass and stood. They followed Dumbledore out until they reached the stairs, then he and Madam Pomfrey travelled down to the Great Hall. Ginny hugged Harry, then followed her parents to the East Wing, while Harry left with his guardians to the West.

 _I'll see you in seven and a half hours,_ Harry thought.

Ginny gave a stiff nod.

Mum had brought her books from home as well as a wireless. She let Ginny tune it to the station that broadcasted Quidditch matches in the evenings, though at that time of day they were playing music. They were playing a Weird Sisters song when the static faded, which did some good to calm her nerves. Ginny began to work on her summer work to keep herself occupied during the wait.

She finished a reading assignment for McGonagall. It had only been 45 minutes. She wrote a summary on it. Another 45. She began a section in her history book for Binns. An half an hour went by. Ginny kept checking her watch, but it did not lessen her feelings of angst. At three thirty seven, she turned up the volume on the wireless in hopes it might settle her nerves. Mum kept asking her how she felt, but she kept saying that she was just antsy. Mum would only nod and go back to knitting, while her father would keep reading his manual on the postal system. At four, Ginny put aside her history work and started reading her Potions book, however she kept having to re-read lines, which led to her mind bringing up visions of Snape scowling and sneering at her distracted state. As that didn't help, she switched to Defense. For some reason, she had one of Harry's defense books, so she read that as it was more interesting than her normal textbook. Every now and then, one of the spells would pop up in her memory, or rather Tom's memory, and she would recall his mastery of it. She checked her watch again; it was ten past five. She kept reading, trying to focus on the words. She found a jinx that caused the ground beneath the victim to turn to quicksand and solidify once they'd fallen in to their waist. A memory surfaced; Tom had discovered a way to sink his victim all the way into the sand, then solidify the ground above their head. She shoved it away and moved on. At five thirty five, the radio announcer reminded his listeners of match at six between the Hollyhead Harpies and the Wimbourne Wasps. Ginny rubbed at her temples, trying to focus. The words swam on the page; she listened to the next song, ignoring the text, in hopes to persuade her mind into calming. She tried to read again, but ended up wandering back to the music. The book slipped from her lap.

"You all right, dear?" Mum asked.

Ginny felt suddenly dizzy. The muscles in her legs began to ache and feel jerky; she tried to stand but fell back. Mum looked up from her knitting and caught her hand. "Ginny?" she said cautiously.

Ginny clung to the arms of the chair. The room seemed to revolve around her. As if from a long hallway, she heard the announcer say: "It's 5:47, and you're listening to the UK's Quidditch Center! This next one's for Ginny Weasley, Tom says hello!"

Ginny stared in shock at the radio. She shook her head. She couldn't have heard that. Mum was still holding her hand, and she was probably saying something, though her mind didn't seem to want to listen. There was sudden static on the radio; Ginny jumped as it whined loudly. Ginny's mum shook her arm, which felt much worse than it should have. Ginny pulled her arm out of her mother's grip and rubbed at her eyes, trying to return the room to normal. Something icy pressed against her neck and she jumped away. There was nothing behind her.

Mum grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into her arms. Ginny huddled against her mother's chest, staring around the room. The static sounded like drums; like her heartbeat. Like laughter that was devoid of mirth.

There was a tug at her middle, and Ginny sagged in her mother's grip. They were suddenly standing in the Great Hall; the radio was gone but the static still filled her ears. Then there was a flash of blue and Sirius and Remus appeared, holding Harry between them. Ginny pulled away from her mother and wrapped her arms around Harry's middle; he held her tightly against his chest.

 _I can't breathe,_ he thought.

"Sorry," she said, pulling back. He shook his head, then pulled her closer again and buried his nose in her hair. She somehow understood and remained still. The static was fading now, as was the echoing laughter.

Someone gripped her shoulder. Ginny started; she hadn't realized that they had sunk to the floor, but she was now looking up at Dumbledore.

"Five hours," he said softly. She did not reply. He looked to her parents; Ginny followed his gaze and saw her mother's frightened face.

 _Voldemort is alive,_ Harry thought to her.

_He can't hurt you here._

_He's alive._

_He's not here._

_But he's alive._

Ginny kissed his forehead. _We're safe here. Hogwarts will always be safe._

Remus held out a hand. Ginny took it, and he pulled her up. He then helped Harry up, and Madam Pomfrey hurried over and pushed them onto a bench that hadn't been there a moment ago. She ran her wand over both of them, then conjured a blanket and draped it over them.

"Eighty eight degrees," she said. Mum crossed quickly to the bench and touched her forehead, then Harry's. Her face was so white.

"This isn't good," Sirius said.

"You think?" Mum snapped. She flicked her wand and warm air poured from it; she began to waft them.

"Barely five hours of separation and they break down," Dad said softly.

"Ginny was feeling nervous only an hour in," Mum said.

"So was Harry," Sirius replied.

"I was afraid of this," Dumbledore murmured.

"We'll just have to let them continue sharing," said her mother, her voice a bit higher than normal.

"But what about when the new term begins?" Remus posed. "They won't be allowed to share a room while at school, and we can't just let them move into the infirmary."

Dumbledore began to massage his temples. "You're right, Remus. This is difficult."

Madam Pomfrey turned back to Dumbledore. "Whatever the solution is, it does not have to be determined this minute. Mrs. Weasley, if you would help me transport them to the Hospital Wing, I will give them a Pepper-Up Potion and then you may take them home."

Mum nodded and cancelled her charm. She held out her arm; Ginny gripped it and stood. Harry's arm was coiled around her waist, and she wrapped hers around him. Madam Pomfrey steadied Harry, then she led them forward. The other adults followed them, conversing quietly. Ginny glanced at her mother, wondering what she was thinking.

_Are your brothers going to kill me?_

Ginny squeezed her grip. _Not if Mum and Dad explain it properly first._

Harry's fingers tightened on her waist. _Does this mean that one of us is going to move into the other's room?_

 _My room's too small,_ she told him.

_Mine might be bigger, but it's not big enough for two people._

_Maybe we can split time between the two?_

_This is weird._

Madam Pomfrey opened the doors with her wand, then helped them onto the first bed. Ginny glanced around and saw that there were curtains around the bed that Vance had occupied the past few days. She wondered why he would still be there.

The matron disappeared into her office, then returned a moment later holding two goblets. Ginny glanced over at her father; he was discussing something with Remus and Sirius. Madam Pomfrey pushed the goblets into their hands, and raised her eyebrows. Ginny steeled herself and took a gulp. The potion nearly burned her throat on its way down, but she soon found her body relaxing with the warmth. She drank more, and slowly she felt her muscles relax with the heat.

When they finished, the matron took their cups and left. Dumbledore stepped forward and addressed them.

"Please give me your watches so I may modify the charms on them," he said. Ginny nodded and undid the strap of hers; Harry waited for her to hand hers over and return her hand to his arm to remove his. Dumbledore tucked them into his robes and fixed his gaze on theirs. "The question of where you will sleep next term is not one you need worry about now. For the moment, I advise you remain together as much as possible." He turned to her mother. "You may go home now."

Mum nodded stiffly. They stood up, and Mum led them off to the matron's office. Dumbledore said one last thing to her father, Sirius and Remus, then they began to follow them. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them, and there was a fire in her grate. She handed Mum a pot of Floo powder, and they each took a pinch. Ginny moved robotically; tossing the powder into the grate and announcing her address. She stumbled out of the fire into her sitting room, then turned back in time to catch Harry. They both collapsed onto a couch and waited.

Her mother appeared in a flash of green flame, then she was by their side again and fussing over them. Next arrived Remus, then her father, and finally Sirius. Mum draped a blanket around them then muttered something about tea and left. Her father awkwardly patted her shoulder, then followed her mother out of the room.

Sirius let out a heavy sigh. "Looks like life's about to change, huh, kiddo?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Ginny was trying not to think about the prospect of having to move out of her parent's home. She tried to focus on the moment, where she was beginning to feel warmer beneath the blanket. Mum returned with two cups of tea and handed them to Harry and Ginny.

"Thanks, Mum," she murmured. Harry echoed her softly. Her mother sank into a chair and covered her eyes with a hand. Ginny felt strangely guilty, even though she knew that it wasn't her fault. Harry squeezed her hand gently.

"Well, I suppose we should go fetch Harry's aunt and grandmother," Dad said.

"Oh, yes, of course!" Mum jumped up from her chair and glanced towards the door. "Oh, Harry, remind me, are they connected to the Floo Network?"

"Err…" Harry said.

"They are, Molly," Remus said. "I connected them last semester so they could reach Harry in an emergency. I'll call, them, Molly, you sit down," he added as she began towards the fire. Remus crossed back to the fireplace and reached for the little flower pot containing the Floo Powder. He dropped a pinch into the embers in the grate, then cried "Evans Farm!" and stepped into it. Ginny tried very hard not to think about what was going to have to happen when they returned.

Ginny had drained her tea before the fire blazed again and Remus emerged. A moment later, so did Harry's grandmother.

"Petunia isn't home," his grandmother said first, addressing Harry. "She's spending the day with Dudley for his birthday."

Harry nodded stiffly. Mrs. Evans sat on the couch beside him and touched his forehead. Ginny could practically see her worry increase. She turned to face the adults. "So? What did the professor's experiment result in?"

There was no immediate answer. Finally, her father spoke. "As far as we can tell, the two of them become very anxious within two hours of separation and fall ill before five."

Harry's grandmother's face became pale. "Only five hours?" she breathed.

Dad nodded.

Mrs. Evans turned back to Harry and smiled weakly. "Well, we'll just have to expand your room some. I assume the solution for now is to have them split time between our two houses?" She posed this last question to Ginny's parents.

Mum nodded. "I'm glad you're so accepting," she said.

"Of course." Mrs. Evans looked at Harry with a soft, worried warmth in her eyes.

"Where would you like to stay tonight?" Mum asked the two of them.

_Your brothers might sneak in in the middle of the night and murderize my face._

Ginny tried not to laugh. Harry was quite tired. _It might be less awkward at your gram's house._

_But how do we phrase it?_

_Honesty is the best policy._

"I'm a bit scared of her brothers," Harry said.

The adults all laughed. It was the kind of laugh one gave out after a very tense situation, to something that normally would not be so funny.

"That is understandable," her dad said with a smile.

"My house it is, then?" his gram said.

"Yes," Mum answered. "But do stay for dinner tonight, Thea."

Harry's grandmother smiled warmly. "I'd love to. Perhaps we should return to my house briefly first, however, so Ginny can bring some of her things over and then Harry can bring some of his here?"

"That is a novel idea," Dad said. "Perhaps I might –”

"Arthur, if you ask to examine how her washing machine or toaster or whatever works, I will withhold dessert from you," Mum sighed.

Dad looked slightly crestfallen. "Never mind." Ginny smiled.

Mrs. Evans looked to the two of them. "Well, you should go get what you would need for the night."

"Err, right," Ginny said.

_Do I come with you?_

_Sure._

They stood and exited the sitting room. Ginny felt sure that the back of her neck was red, and knew that Harry's was as he walked in front of her.

When they entered her room, Ginny found her things from Hogwarts piled neatly in a corner. She had forgotten about them; Dumbledore must have sent them. She bent and opened her trunk to begin retrieving clothes. Harry stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. She glanced back at him. "You can sit down, you know."

He glanced at the room's only chair, her desk chair, which at that moment was laden with book. "Uhh, should I move those or…"

Ginny straightened up, holding a bundle of clothes to her chest. "Just sit on the bed." She then dumped the clothes on the foot of her bed, then began looking for a bag.

"Er…"

Ginny looked back at him. _You're going to be sleeping there soon, you might as well._

Harry sat down, but only on the very edge. She shook her head and kept looking. She pulled a rucksack out of her closet and began stuffing the clothes in them.

“Am I going to have to give you a drawer?” Harry asked.

Ginny looked up. “Possibly.” She turned back to the bag then sighed. She hadn’t thought about the long term.

“You can just bring some for now,” he said softly. Ginny nodded vaguely. Most of her clothes were in her trunk, however the pajamas she wore at Hogwarts weren’t clean at that moment. Ginny opened a drawer and looked through it. She normally wore a tee shirt and pants, but all that was in her drawer was tank tops and shorts, as well as one nightdress that she never wore. She rubbed at her neck, then grabbed a set. She’d steal one of Harry’s shirts to wear over the tank top later.

Harry held open the bag for her. She whispered a thanks and shoved the clothes in. Ginny looked back at him and bit her lip.

_Er, we might end up with one or both of our parents lecturing us…_

Harry nodded, though by his thoughts she could tell that he was just as anxious.

“Maybe we should just set a guideline,” she began, sitting down beside him.

“Like what?” Harry’s voice was higher pitched than normal.

“No, none of… no –”

“Got it,” he said, having realized what she was trying to say. She nodded awkwardly, looking away. “Er…” he mumbled.

“Not that we couldn’t ever, just –”

“Not now.”

“We’re just not ready for anything like that.”

“Right.” Harry flopped backward on her bed. “This is so weird,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

The door opened and Ron stuck his head in. “What are you two doing in here by yourself?” he asked suspiciously.

Ginny groaned and hung her head in her hands. She had been hoping none of her brothers would notice that they were there before her parents had a chance to talk with them. Harry looked at her, then at Ron, then grabbed a blanket that was lying at the end of her bed and pulled it over his head. Ginny scowled at him. “Gee, thanks for the help.”

Ron stepped in the room. “What’s going on?” He noticed the rucksack. “Are you going somewhere?”

Ginny bit her lip again, then stood up and stuck her head outside. She couldn’t hear what the adults were saying downstairs, but she doubted that they would be ready to explain to her brothers just yet. She sighed and retreated. Ron was likely to understand. He saw what happened to Harry back in February.

“We’ve got five hours,” she said abruptly.

“Until what?” Ron asked, blinking confusedly at her.

“No, Harry and I. We only get five hours apart.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “I thought you had eight?”

Ginny shrugged. “Not anymore. What happened at the Third Task must have screwed it up.”

Ron gave a soft whistle. Then he looked at Harry, still hiding under her blanket. “I’m not going to murder you,” he said with a sigh.

Harry slowly pulled the blanket away from his face. “Really?” he replied in surprise. Ron rolled his eyes at him, then turned back to her.

“So what happens now?”

Ginny combed through her hair with her fingers. “For now, we’re going to split time between here and his gram’s house.”

“You’re living with him, now?”

Ginny nodded. “We have to. We can’t live off of five hours of sleep.”

Ron leaned against a wall. “Wow. That’s… wow.”

Ginny looked down at her feet; there was awkward silence around them.

“So, you’re sure you aren’t going to kill me?”

Ginny smiled at her best friend while Ron rolled his eyes. “If I killed you, Ginny would kill me. Also, if you can’t stand being alone for five hours, I’m pretty sure it would be very bad if one of you died.”

That sobered Harry. He sat up and nodded slowly. “Yeah. It would be.”

Ron glanced between them, then shook his head and moved towards the door. He paused, and then he hugged Ginny. She patted his back with increasing awkwardness, then he left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Well then,” she mused.

Harry nodded absently.

_I have to live you now._

_You make it sound like a disease,_ she thought with a snort.

_No, it's just… I’m going to have to put the seat down in my bathroom all the time now  
…_

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are.”

“Well, will you put the seat up when you’re done?”

“No, because you sit down sometimes too.”

Harry shuddered. “Never mind.”

“You have your own bathroom?”

He nodded. “Yeah, all four of us get our own bathroom. Dudley’s isn’t connected to his because he’s on the third floor, but no one else is up there with him so he doesn’t have to share.”

Ginny paused to consider this. She had never had her own bathroom before…

Harry shook his head at her. “You’ll still have to share with me, you know.”

“Oh, hush,” she scolded. “I’m daydreaming.”

Harry laughed, and she continued to pack. She gathered her toiletries from her trunk and put them in a separate kit bag. She shoved a throw blanket into the bag, then added a little bag of important things. She closed the bag, then put it on her shoulder.

“Shall we go back downstairs?”

Harry nodded and stood. “Um, my room’s probably not neat at the moment.”

“I don’t care.”

They found his grandmother in the sitting room with her father and Sirius and Remus. Dad was asking her how her farming was going.

“… I’ve gotten a good amount of crop out,” she was saying. “I had enough to hire a farmhand while the boys were gone, and Dudley, since he comes home in the afternoons, has been a great help too.”

“Do you use a tracker to plow your fields?”

“You mean a tractor?”

“Oh, yes, that.”

“No, I have an old fashioned plow. My husband and I always preferred the old way of doing things.”

Dad opened his mouth to ask another question when he noticed them at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, you’re done already?”

Ginny nodded. “Um, I only got a few things since it’s so late. I figured we could do the whole splitting up thing tomorrow.”

“That’s alright, dear,” Mrs. Evans said.

“Your mother is in the kitchen working on dinner,” Dad said. Ginny nodded, then dropped her bags on the floor by the couch. She moved into the kitchen and found her mother standing by the stove, stirring a pot of stew.

“Mum?” she said.

Her mother started, then touched the hem of her apron to her face. “Oh, Ginny, dear; I didn’t notice you.”

Ginny took a small step forward, then darted ahead and hugged her mother. She’d gotten taller since September, since the last time she had stood face to face with her mother, to the point that she was now the same height as her.

“It’s not going to be forever,” she mumbled. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Oh, I know, sweetie,” Mum sniffled. “I had known the two of you would eventually end up together… I had just hoped I might get to keep you to myself a while longer.”

Ginny pulled back. Her mum’s eyes were tired, and for the first time Ginny saw all the lines in her face. She kissed her mother’s cheek and let go. “It’ll be alright, Mum.”

Her mother nodded. “Well, you go on and take your things over. Supper should be ready before seven thirty.”

“We’ll be back by then.”

She left the kitchen and found Harry and Mrs. Evans standing by the fireplace. Harry had her rucksack and kit bag. Ginny quickly hugged her father, then took her bags from Harry.

“We’ll be right back,” Mrs. Evans said.

Harry tossed Floo powder into the grate. “Evans Farm!” In a flash, he was gone. Ginny let his grandmother go next, then waved to her dad again, and stepped into the flame.

Years of practice held her arms tightly to her side and her bags in a vice grip. She stumbled out, managing to catch herself before falling, then straightened. Mrs. Evans’s sitting room was paler than her mother’s; the sofa and loveseat were both patterned with soft paisley fabric, the carpet was a creamy yellow, there were afghans on the backs of the couches, the coffee table and bookcases and end tables all matched, and everything was neat. She felt slightly awkward in such an ordered place.

Mrs. Evans looked back at her. “Well, Harry can show you upstairs. Petunia and Dudley will probably be back late, dear,” she added to Harry.

“Uh, right. Come on, Ginny.”

He led her from the sitting room to a foyer, then up the stairs. There were more going up when Harry stepped off at the second floor, which Ginny recognized as the stairs to the third floor. He glanced back at her, then went down the hallway.

“Aunt Petunia’s down there,” he gestured to a room just past the stairs, “but Gram’s room is downstairs. She doesn’t like going up and down stairs.”

“That would make sense,” Ginny echoed. She examined the pastel flowers in the wallpaper, thinking that this house was very grand. She and Harry had remained outside mostly when they were at his grandmother’s house, or on the first floor. She didn’t remember ever coming upstairs.

“Uh, I think my great-great-grandfather or so many great's built the house,” Harry said, pausing outside a door. “Ages ago, when people had live-in servants and stuff. He had family money that he used to build this and get the farm going, and then it got passed down.”

“It’s very nice,” Ginny repeated. Harry nodded, then opened the door. He stepped inside, and Ginny followed him.

His room was much less neat than the rest of the house, as he had warned her, however it was better than she expected; most of the mess was concentrated around the desk and on the bed. He glanced around at first, then began to pick up the things on the floor. Ginny shook her head at the area, but at least there was no smell of dirty laundry like in Ron’s room. She set her rucksack down by a dresser and looked around.

“That’s the bathroom,” Harry answered her silent question.

“Thanks.” She crossed over it, stepping over a book on Quidditch plays to get to it. She shut the door behind her and leaned back against the wall. She took a deep breath, then looked around. The bathroom was fairly large; a wide granite counter was just in front of her, the toilet was just past it, and then there was a shower and bath combination. She opened her kit bag and put her toothpaste on the counter, her toothbrush into the cup with Harry’s. There was a fresh smelling hand towel on a bar by the mirror, and a bathmat was draped over the side of the tub. She supposed that the bath towels were in his closet.

She finished putting away her things, then noted that she would need to bring over things for her period within the next few days, as she was due soon.

 _Ew,_ Harry thought.

She opened the door and stuck her tongue out at him. He stuck his thumbs in his ears, giving himself antlers, and blew a raspberry at her. She laughed, then exited.

“You clean up quick,” she said, looking around. As most of the clutter had been papers and books, it was now all stacked on a desk. She noted the perch by his desk and looked around. “Where’s Hedwig?”

Harry pointed to the open window. “I told her we would be going home last night, and it seemed like she would rather fly home than travel. She should be here soon.”

Ginny nodded, then bit her lip. “So… Do I unpack or…?”

Harry looked up at her. His ears were tinted pink. “Um, probably should do that tomorrow. Y’know, when you bring over the… the rest of your stuff.”

“Riiight…”

She sat down on the bed and fingered the duvet. It was simple cotton, without design, but it was soft, and it had a vague scent of Harry about it. She smiled slightly.

“What?” Harry said; his back was to her and he was pulling things from his trunk.

“Nothing,” she replied, leaning back on the bed. Harry turned to face her.

“I am in your head,” he reminded her.

“It’s just…” she tried to think of words. “Eventually my room will smell like you too.”

Harry blushed. “Err, right.”

Ginny shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. There were little stars tacked to it. She cocked her head back to look at them. “What were those for?”

Harry looked up too. “They were there when I moved in. Gram never said anything about them.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “They match the constellations.”

Harry stepped towards the bed to look up at them. “Uh, yeah. They do.” He turned back to the trunk and tugged a pair of pajama pants from it. She rose up on her elbows to watch him. She wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that she would soon be living here, or the closed door, or the smell, but she felt suddenly nervous. There was something else too, something akin to excitement, but she tried to keep that boxed away. From his thoughts, Harry was in a similar state.

He glanced over at her, then looked down. He took the pile of clothes he’d dumped on the floor and shoved them into a hamper in the corner of the room. Ginny figured that those hadn’t been washed before leaving Hogwarts. Harry looked back at her, biting his lip.

“Should we go back downstairs?”

She checked his alarm clock. “It’s only quarter to seven. We don’t have to go back until five til seven thirty.”

“Oh, right.” He looked at his feet again. “Um.”

“Do you wanna address the elephant in the room?” she asked.

“No,” he mumbled. She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked suddenly quite nervous. “Fine.” He glanced at the door, then at the windows, then took two strides forward and pulled her into a kiss. Ginny started; his hands were tight on her waist, his mouth was open and his tongue was slipping past her lips. She felt weak at the knees and stumbled back. Harry caught her and held her more tightly, his hands moving to her back. Her arms wrapped around his neck, she was holding on for dear life.

Then he was pulling back, letting go and stepping away. Her breath came in gasps, and his did too.

“What – what – why –”

“Elephant in the room,” he whispered. “You’re really hot.”

Ginny dropped onto the bed. “Kay.”

Harry smiled faintly. He sat next to her and grasped her hand. She, still lightheaded, scooted closer to him. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled.

_Eventually, my room will smell like you too._

Ginny grinned; then she put her arm around him and kissed him again. Harry snaked his arms around her waist, slanting his lips on hers. She pressed closer, opening her lips and shifting her position. Harry’s mouth was pressing roughly against hers; she started when she felt a hand at her hip, pulling back slightly.

“Sorry,” he breathed, jerking his hand away. Ginny didn’t reply; she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to be sorry.

“Um…” she glanced at the clock – it was not yet seven – then back at him. “It’s fine.” Harry shifted backwards, looking down at his hands. Ginny brushed a strand of her hair aside, feeling just as awkward as he.

_So… elephant in the room addressed?_

Ginny looked back at him. He was staring at her, his face flushed and hair messier than normal. She smiled softly, then leaned forward and gently kissed him. She leaned her forehead on his and whispered: “I’m pretty sure there will be an elephant in the room for a very long time.”

Harry smiled, then he pecked her on the lips again. “If you say so.”

Ginny smiled and shook her head. "Maybe we should go downstairs, or at least out of the room."

Harry nodded in resigned agreement. She knew he felt like continuing to kiss her, but he too saw the wisdom in leaving the room with the closed door. He stood and offered her a hand; Ginny took it and let him lead her away.

 _How about a tour?_ He offered. _You've never seen the rest of the house._

She nodded. "Sure."

"Well, Aunt Petunia is over there, there's a study and two guest rooms on this floor," as he spoke he indicated the doors. They began walking towards the stairs. "The third level has a nursery, Dudley's room, and other rooms that Gram said were my granddad and his siblings rooms as well as a couple of servant's rooms." He began going upstairs, and she followed him. The third floor was carpeted unlike the second, the hall was wider and the doors were too. As he had said this floor had children's bedrooms, she supposed it made sense. He pointed to the second door on the left. "That's Dudley's room, but we won't go in there."

"It smells?"

"Yeah, and Dudley and I still don't get on. He's less of a git now, but still."

He opened a door to their right. "This is the nursery."

Ginny let out a soft "Wow." The room was filled with little toys, two rocking chairs that looked handcarved, an elegant crib, and the walls were painted with teddy bears and other stuffed animals playing, some in a park, some with balloons, some with toys.

"This is lovely," she said.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry replied with a shrug. "Kid toys aren't really my thing, but I suppose you like it 'cause you're a girl." He added the last part, she knew, with sarcasm. She rolled her eyes at him and stepped back.

"Anyway, that's pretty much it," Harry said. He looked back at her, then back at the room. "Er, let's go talk to Gram."

"Okay."

They left the third floor, passed the second, and found his grandmother in the kitchen. The kitchen was more to her tastes; it had a seaside theme to it, with blue walls and a seashell border and knick-knacks to match. His grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table with a book in her hands and jeweled reading glasses perched on her nose.

When they entered the kitchen, Mrs. Evans looked up and set down her book, removing her glasses as she did. "All settled in?" she asked.

"For the most part," Ginny said. Mrs. Evans smiled.

"I was going to tell you, Ginny, you may as well start calling me Gram," she said. "Seeing as we'll be under the same roof for so long."

"Oh, okay, uh, Gram," Ginny replied. "Sure."

Mrs. Evans, Gram, nodded with a wider smile. Then her expression changed, becoming a bit uncomfortable. "Before I forget, I assume your parents have or will speak to you, but I just wanted to let you know that I will not condone, ah, certain behavior. I'm not trying to restrict you or anything –”

"We understand, Gram, we already decided we're not ready," Harry interrupted quickly.

She softened. "Oh, very good. Very mature of you." Mrs. Evans glanced down at her watch, then stood. "Well, if you're done we may as well go back over."

Ginny checked hers. It was only ten past, though Mrs. Evans had a point. Gram, she corrected herself.

They left the kitchen and returned to the sitting room. Missus – Gram took a jar from the mantle and looked back at Harry. There was the tiniest of fires in the grate, however it was enough as Harry threw a pinch into the flame and cried "The Burrow!"

Ginny followed, then so did his grandmother. They found her living room full, and Ginny immediately wished they had waited another ten minutes.

Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and even Charlie were sitting there with her father and Sirius. Remus wasn't in the room, but she guessed that he was in the kitchen. Dad had stopped talking, it seemed, when Harry had arrived, and her five brothers were staring at him. Ginny stepped forward and took his hand. Charlie's expression was unreadable, Ron already knew, Fred and George looked torn between jealousy, distress, and mild anger. Percy looked quite horrified.

"Living together?" Percy finally spoke. He must have been startled, as he used an incomplete sentence.

"Yes," Dad told him. "It is necessary."

Ginny glared at him, daring him to spew out his view on just why this was absolutely unnecessary and in fact immoral, however, for once, her brother said nothing.

Then George spoke. "Lucky," he grumbled.

Dad gave him a stern look. "We are only allowing this for the sake of their health," he said sharply. "Do not take that tone."

George was moderately humbled, but he still mumbled something under his breath to Fred, who in turn slapped a palm over his eyes.

Ron gave them a curt nod, and then he left the living room for the kitchen. Dad watched him go and sighed. He turned back to the rest of her brothers, raising an eyebrow. Percy glanced at them, then stood and went upstairs. Charlie crossed his arms over his chest, his face still neutral. Fred and George shook their heads and walked away. Ginny let out her breath. They did not want to murder Harry.

_Oh, gee, that's reassuring._

She did not reply. Harry rolled his eyes, then he started in the direction Fred and George had left in. Ginny furrowed her brow; _Where are you going?_

_I want to give them something._

Ginny shook her head and went into the kitchen. Harry's grandmother followed her. She heard Harry begin speaking to the twins She found Remus and her mother chatting, Remus cutting up vegetables for salad and her mother taking rolls from the oven. Ginny waited until her mum's back was turned, then snatched one.

"No!" her mother said, not even turning around. Ginny scowled, but dropped the albeit hot roll back onto the pan. She stuck her tongue out at Remus, who had laughed.

Dinner that night was quiet. Her brothers kept their eyes downward except when asking for seconds. Only Ron, who seemed to have accepted the situation, said more than simple requests for more stew. Harry and Ginny, too, were silent. Ginny ate only half of the serving her mother gave her, as her stomach was twisting with anxiety. Both of them dreaded the conversation they knew would occur once her brothers had left.

And came it did. As her brothers filed upstairs, the adults sank into armchairs and started whispering. They remained sitting at the bottom of the stairs, as Harry figured they would be leaving soon, it would do no good to go upstairs. Ginny was worried that it would not help their situation if they did.

Finally, the adults turned to them. Ginny gulped.

"Dears, why don't you come sit over here for a moment?" Mum said. They hesitantly rose and crossed the room. They sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, looking anywhere but at her parents.

"We thought that, given this arrangement of… sleeping in the same room…" Ginny's father began, "it would be best that we speak to you about…"

"Sex," Sirius finished. Dad looked slightly pained at his lack of subtly.

"Er, yes, sex."

_Here we go…_

"At your age, you might often find yourselves desiring…"

"Sex," Sirius provided. Dad looked momentarily frustrated. He sighed, then went on.

"Our point is –”

"No sex," Ginny blurted.

Dad was briefly taken aback. "Uh, pardon?"

Ginny felt her cheeks go red. "Er, we already decided we weren't ready."

Harry was staring at his feet. Ginny half wished she hadn't spoken.

Dad glanced at Mum, who was looking at her hands clasped in her lap, then back at her. "Well, er, considering your circumstance, you might find yourself in a situation where you forget that you aren't ready."

"Got it," Ginny replied. She hoped they would finish soon.

"Now, we aren't saying this to be mean, you really aren't ready for any repercussions," her father told them. "If you were to get pregnant –”

"Yes, sir," Harry spoke. Dad sighed, looking resigned.

"We understand you do not wish to discuss this," said her father, "we only wish for you to understand our side. Being young and in love is a wonderful feeling –” both of them blushed at the mention of the 'l' word, being of course teenagers even if it was true –"but one moment of carelessness can lead to a lifetime of repercussions."

"We understand," they chorused. The adults looked at them with something akin to pity.

Dad turned to Harry's grandmother, rising as he did and removing the Floo powder from the mantle. "Well, I suppose that's it."

She nodded and stood up. "We'll see you in the morning, then. Goodnight, all." Dad lit the grate and helped Mrs. Evans through. Ginny went to hug her mother, and found her mother's embrace tighter.

"Goodnight, Mum," she whispered.

"Goodnight, my pet," her mother returned. She backed out of the embrace and hugged her father. Her dad patted her hair, then released her with a small smile. She waved to Remus and Sirius; Harry had hugged them already, and took a pinch of Floo powder. She inhaled, and tossed it into the flame.

A moment later, she stood in Mrs. Evans, Gram's, sitting room with Harry and Gram.

"Off to bed with you, then," she said, giving Harry a quick hug. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Do I have chores early tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"Not very early, you can sleep until nine if you like."

Ginny smiled, then added "I can help in the morning."

Gram patted her shoulder. "That's very sweet of you, dear, thank you. I'll let you know tomorrow. Sleep tight."

She took a door off to the right and shut it behind her. Harry turned to her with a nervous expression.

"Well…" he said.

Ginny sighed. "Let's just go."

"Right."

They climbed the stairs and took a left towards his room.

"Harry?"

They turned; Harry's cousin stood at the third floor landing. He squinted at Ginny.

"What's she doing here?" Dudley questioned.

"Er…" was all Harry said.

Dudley stepped down, a malicious glint in his eye. "You're not having her over, are you?" he asked, a smirk growing on his face.

"Sort of…" Harry said, his voice rising an octave.

Dudley's smirk increased. "I should tell Mum, I should," he said.

Ginny pressed her hand over her eyes in exasperation. Harry was slightly confused. "Okay…" he said.

Dudley took the rest of the steps down two at a time. He got right up in Harry's face, wearing a smug grin.

"What'll you do to keep me from blabbing?" Dudley asked.

Harry had a small "oh" moment. "Aunt Petunia knows," he said.

Dudley's grin vanished instantly. "She does? Then how're you getting away with it."

Ginny threw up her hands and turned away. "Nope!"

Harry made a tiny gasp at her betrayal. "You can't nope out of this! You're better at English!"

"Nope! I'm going to bed. Have fun!"

"Ginny!"

Dudley was the most confused. "What's going on?"

Ginny opened Harry's door and shut it behind her. As she did, she heard another door open and saw Aunt Petunia exit her bedroom through Harry's eyes. She ignored the discussion between him, his aunt and cousin and entered the bathroom. She told him she was taking a shower and closed the door between their minds as well as the bathroom door. She turned on the tap, shed her clothes, and began her shower. She tried not to think about Harry opening the bedroom door and taking out his pajamas or waiting for her to leave the shower or even him in general. Ginny showered as quickly as possible, then turned off the water and stepped onto the bathmat. She looked around, then swore.

_Y'know, your parents just gave us a lecture on that subject._

_Shut up, Harry._

She opened the cabinet door under the sink, but saw none. She really should have thought this through.

"What's the matter?" Harry called.

"I, uh, I didn't get a towel."

Harry didn't immediately reply. Ginny tried not to listen to his thoughts across the door. "Uh, I'll get you one."

"Thanks."

Ginny leaned against the wall, wondering why karma hated them. The door cracked, and he stuck a towel in. Rebelliously, Ginny's mind noted how attractive his wrists were. She took the towel quickly and he jerked his hand back out, closing the door. She dried herself as quickly as possible, then wrapped herself in the towel and gingerly opened the door. Harry jumped up from the bed, glanced at her, then turned around quickly.

"Uh, you can go in now," she said.

Harry glanced back at her. "Oh, right." He grabbed his pajamas and another towel off the bed and stepped past her. She tried not to meet his eyes, and he tried not to look down. As the door shut, Ginny blushed.

She dressed in rapid motion. She still had just the shorts and a tank top and a loose bra she could sleep in, but she'd find one of his shirts quickly enough. Ginny opened his trunk and pulled out a random tee shirt and pulled it over her head. She smoothed it out and hoped that would be enough layering.

Slowly, Ginny turned back and faced the bed. There might as well have been rose petals scattered over it and candles floating above it, it wrecked her nerves so badly. Instead, she dropped into a desk chair and opened a book.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened, and she still had not read more than a few lines. Ginny glanced back; Harry's shirt clung to his frame and his hair wet hung in his eyes. She looked away again.

"Er, it's almost ten," he said.

"Okay."

"What are you reading?"

Ginny tried not to make it obvious as she checked the cover. "Elements of Transfiguration," she answered.

"Okay."

She heard his footsteps, then felt his hand at her shoulder, then tried not to look as he leaned forward and pulled a thick novel from the shelf above his desk. She failed and found herself watching him from the corner of her eye move to the bed and sit down. Ginny jerked her gaze back to the page she was on.

Elements of Transfiguration was not very interesting. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw him turn a page. She wondered what he was reading and looked through his eyes.

His eyes, when she first looked, were resting on a sentence beginning with "Each year the Bagginses…" but before the end of the sentence, Harry's gaze flicked upward to land on her curtain of damp hair. Ginny started and looked up, through her own, and met his gaze. He blushed.

_Uh…_

_Yes?_

_Nothing…_

_Are you sure?_

Harry swallowed his next words. He simply shrugged, but did not look away. Ginny's eyes flicked back to her book, then to his.

"Yours looks more interesting," she murmured.

"Huh?"

Ginny smiled softly. "Your book."

Harry turned pink. "Oh. It's Lord of the Rings."

Ginny closed hers. She stood up and crossed to the other side of the bed. She sat down and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking down at the book. Harry gulped again, but he kept reading.

Soon they fell into pace and were reading each word simultaneously. Eventually, Ginny lay back against the pillows, closing her eyes and looking through his. More than once, he would glance at her, curled up with her head on the pillow, and kept doing so until she fell asleep.

Harry pulled the blankets from beneath her, then draped them over her sleeping form. He switched off the lights and settled down beside her. He stared up at the faintly glowing plastic stars above him until he joined his girlfriend in sleep.


	29. The Sweetness of Summer and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine  
The Sweetness of Summer and Nightmares  
Harry**

When Harry awoke the next morning, it took a while to convince himself he was actually awake. There was an intoxicating scent filling his nostrils, and a warm, soft form lay pressed against his side, exhaling slowly so that her breath tickled his throat and sent the occasional shiver through his body. 

When he did finally remember that he was not dreaming and Ginny was meant to be there, it took nearly all of his self-control to do no more than stare at her. The gentle sunlight from the window stained her hair with rivers of gold, her dark eyelashes fluttered vaguely as she dreamed, her small red lips were slightly parted, and her fingers rested curled around his shirt, twitching slightly. She lay with her head on his shoulder, her arms pulled against her chest and her legs tucked beside him. He hadn't even realized that his calf lay crossing hers, but it did, and her skin on his felt strangely comforting. One of his arms was pinned beneath her, but the other was free to move, so he gently, trying not to wake her, laid his hand on her waist and pulled her closer. She stirred, but only to snuggle against him. Harry lifted his hand again and stroked her hair, reveling in the silky sensation of it. He slipped his fingers through it; tiny knots that had formed as she slept broke loose at his touch. Ginny's lips curled, yet she slept on. Harry lifted her left hand and kissed her knuckles gently. 

Harry ran the pad of his thumb over her fingers, thinking. He had never really thought about it before, but he knew for a fact that he and she would spend the rest of their lives together. It was logical, obvious; the two of them would never be able to separate for longer than a few hours. From then on, they would fall asleep together and wake up together. He felt warmth in his chest and couldn't help but smile. He loved the idea of waking up every morning to Ginny. He loved the idea of Ginny in general.

It was then he realized that he had never said aloud to her that he loved her. She knew, of course, and he knew that she loved him, but they had never actually said it. Their minds had just clicked that they loved each other, and they hadn't thought about anything more than that. 

_It's about time we actually said it,_ he thought.

Ginny opened one eye and gave him a stern look.

_If it is not nine yet, shut up and go back to sleep._

Harry chuckled. She rolled her eyes though only one was open, and turned over. He too shifted and locked his arms around her, pulling her in close. She pressed her back against his chest and settled into a doze.

"I wanted to say something," he whispered in her ear. She shivered 

"Later," she mumbled. Harry propped himself up, and gently kissed her ear. She shivered again.

"What about now?"

"I'm sleeping!"

Harry touched his lips to the nape of her neck. She let out her breath.

"Now?"

Ginny turned to face him, her face flushed slightly and her eyes only half open. "What?"

Harry kissed her quickly, then whispered against her lips "I love you."

Ginny merely smiled in half appreciation and half exasperation. "I know."

Harry chuckled softly. "Are you going to say it back?"

She rolled her eyes. "I love you too. Is it nine?"

Harry glanced at his clock. "Half past seven."

"If you start kissing me now, we'll have to get up," she said. 

"We can't snog for an hour and a half?"

"I'd love too, but we are in a bed."

"Fair point."

She pushed him down onto his back and laid her head back on his shoulder. "You can start snogging me after eight thirty."

"Why then?"

"Because then we will have slept long enough to get out of bed."

"Fine." He kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

Ginny let out a soft laugh. "I know. I love you too."

"Yeah but we've never said it before."

"Well, just because we haven't used the English language to express our love doesn't mean we haven't said it."

Harry grinned at her. "You're awesome."

She yawned. "I know that too."

_Why have we never said it, though?_

_I dunno. It's not like we're embarrassed. Go to sleep._

_You know we'll be doing this the rest of our lives._

_Trying not to punch you while craving sleep's warm embrace?_

_Partly._

_What?_ Ginny turned to face him, her brow furrowed.

Harry squeezed his arms gently, _This. Waking and sleeping next to each other. For the rest of our lives._

Ginny seemed to consider this. A far away look appeared in her eyes, and her cheeks turned pink. _Yeah, we will._

Harry, before she could say anything else, pressed his lips against hers. She smiled against his mouth, her hand drifting up to his shoulder, then she was gently pushing him back.

"What?" he asked.

"We're in a bed."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So get up."

Ginny pouted and snuggled against his side, pulling up the blankets ad she did. "It's too early."

Harry groaned. "I want to snog you!"

"Not in the bed!"

"Why not? I'm not going to snog you so hard you'll sprout a new human!"

Ginny laughed. "Shut up, Harry."

Now he was pouting. But he accepted her side, and settled back with her laying against his chest, hands on his shoulder, her hair just below his nose, sending that sweet intoxicating scent into his brain, muddling it with a soft delirium.

Harry took on of her hand and kissed her knuckles. She smiled softly, and he relaxed his arm, holding her hand on his torso as he closed his eyes.

They drifted back to sleep, as per Ginny's request, and remained that way for another two hours, when Harry's aunt came and woke them with the news that breakfast was ready.

Then returned the awkwardness.

_Just go down in your pajamas,_ Harry told her. _I'm hungry._

_I won't leave this room in these shorts._

_Why not?_

_They're too short! Your aunt and grandmother will think I'm trying to seduce you or something._

Harry couldn't help it, his eyes drifted to the hem of her shorts. He hadn't noticed the night before, but when she bent down to dig in her rucksack, the back hem rode up her thighs to expose creamy skin that he immediately felt guilty for noticing. Part of him thought they could be just a little shorter, then he remembered that Dudley was there and scrapped that idea.

_I know you're staring at my arse._

Harry flushed. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "Considering we're going to be living together for the rest of our lives, you're probably allowed too."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, turned red, looked away from her, then up at the ceiling as he tried not to think about what else he was probably allowed to do with that in consideration.

Ginny ignored him as she pulled clothes from her bag. She swore foully under her breath as she contemplated her problem.

"What's the matter?"

She ran a hand through her hair, not looking at him. "I don't think I was thinking yesterday when I packed."

"Why?"

She gestured to the clothes on the floor. "The pants I brought; only one of them fits me anymore and it's got a giant rip under the leg that goes all the way up my butt."

Harry, also trying not to imagine that and what would be exposed, frowned. "Why did you bring them then?"

"I wasn't thinking; I didn't do it on purpose!"

"Calm down, just wear some of mine."

Ginny glanced at him, and, he blushed, at his hips. "You're much smaller than I am, though."

"Wait, no I'm not? I'm taller than you!"

She shook her head. "Pants wise, love; your hips are narrower than mine. That's the problem with these other ones, they stopped fitting over my hips months ago."

"Why do you still have them of they don't fit?"

"Because Mum can just alter them magically. I'd forgotten they were too small though."

Harry shrugged. "I have pajama pants you could wear. They're stretchy."

She sighed. "I guess that will do for now. I just hope your gram and aunt understand..."

Harry chose not to reply, it wouldn't help anyway. He tugged a pair of clean pajama bottoms from his trunk and handed them to her. She took them and went into the bathroom to change. Harry picked up the Fellowship of the Ring from his bedside table and put it back on his desk. 

They went downstairs to find Dudley snoring quietly over his bacon, and his gram and aunt talking in low tones. They halted when the two of them entered the kitchen and said their good mornings.

After breakfast, Ginny and Harry returned to the Burrow to get her better clothing, then went back to do his morning chores. Gram had them first go over the garden to pull up weeds, then go about water the various gardens. In the small strawberry field, Harry accidentally hit Ginny with the spray of water.

Ginny stared down in shock at her wet shorts. Harry quickly decreased the pressure on his hose.

Ginny looked up slowly, her eyes sparkling with mischievous malice. You'll pay for that, Potter. 

Harry opened his mouth only to have his body suddenly pelted with water from his girlfriend's hose. He spluttered as she laughed, then it was a war. 

They dodged and ducked sprays of water, soaking the already moist ground of the strawberry field. Perhaps ten minutes later, they were at a stalemate; Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes, panting, she held her hose at the ready, but she had dialed down the pressure. Her hair was dripping, and so were her clothes. In fact they clung to her frame, displaying the ratio of her hips to her thin waist, the curves leading upwards to her chest, the neckline laying just above where Harry imagined her cleavage began.

Ginny turned pink, having heard his thoughts. He reddened as well, but said nothing. The hose dripped onto his shoe; Ginny had removed her shoes, and her bare toes were flecked with the dark soil. The hose slipped from his grip. He started forward, and a blast of water hit him in the face.

"Wha – what – GINNY!"

She only laughed; she threw the hose away from herself and darted away between the rows, Harry chasing after her. His legs were longer, however, and he grabbed her around the waist, his momentum throwing them to the ground. 

Harry had landed almost on top of her, his knees resting on the ground beside her and his hands flanking her head. She was still grinning.

"There's an old rhyme," he whispered, "one children sing while playing tag."

"Oh?" Ginny asked, barely containing her chuckling.

"It goes something like this: missed me, missed me…"

"Now you have to kiss me?"

He nodded.

"You caught me," she pointed out. 

"Yeah."

"Do you still have to kiss me?"

Harry put his mouth on a spot just beneath her ear. He gently kissed it, then, feeling daring, nipped at her ear. He felt her suck in her breath. Harry kissed her lips almost roughly, their mouths dancing around each other. Her teeth closed on his bottom lip, he felt vibrations in his throat that must have been sounds, he was holding his body on his hands and knees to avoid crushing her, or perhaps to avoid connections. Ginny had one hand in his hair and the other pressed against his shoulder. Water still dripped from their hair and clothes but the summer sun would soon evaporate it, and given their own rising temperatures it was likely to be soon. Her lips found his jaw and his hands clenched on moist earth; she sucked on skin just below his jaw. Harry resisted the urge to grab her by the waist and pull her in closer, and it was a difficult task. He instead caught her lips with his again, though that did not help. The taste of her was sweet and he wanted it to last forever.

He pulled away, his breath haggard. He dropped onto the ground beside her, watching her. Ginny's eyes were still closed, her chest was rising and falling in a rapid movement, and he found himself fixated on the sight of her breathing so heavy. He clenched his fists in an effort to remain still. Ginny found his eyes finally, and she was smiling. 

"Definitely don't do that tomorrow morning," she whispered. Harry laughed.

They soon found the hose pipes and coiled them up to return to the spickets. Ginny suggested they use a drying charm on their clothes, but they weren’t close enough to other wizards to mask the magic. So they sucked in their chests and went inside in their wet and muddy clothes, to which Gram immediately laughed and his aunt rolled her eyes, producing towels. He supposed they had seen their little water fight from the window. He then hoped they hadn’t seen them kissing.

By lunch, they had finished all his grandmother asked them to do, having had to pause to wipe up the mud they had tracked. Afterwards, they chose to walk across the fields that separated the Burrow and his gram’s farm; dallying only once to snog. 

“Mum!” Ginny called as she opened the back door. “We’re back!”

They stepped into the kitchen to see Percy furiously filling out paperwork. “Father took Mum out,” he said simply. He examined two forms, then muttered a curse. Ginny peered over his shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?”

Her brother sighed and leaned back, pushing his hands under his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got to turn in this paperwork this evening, but I’m missing a page.”

Ginny patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Poor you.”

Percy nodded, not even bothering to ask if she was being sarcastic. She wasn’t, much, but her brother merely continued to work. Ginny gestured towards the door and they left the kitchen, going up to the stairs.

“So, are we going to pack up your stuff now?” Harry asked.

She nodded. “Only some of it. Most of my stuff will stay here, and most of your stuff should stay at your grandmother’s.”

“Makes sense.”

She glanced back at him as she opened the door. “You okay if we close the door?” she asked with a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Okay, that last time was entirely your fault.”

Ginny laughed, stepping inside as she did. “All I did was kiss you.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Multiple times? Under my ear?”

“What was under Harry’s ear?” asked Ron, jumping down to the landing.

“A moth,” Ginny said casually. Ron shuddered slightly. “We’re going to pack up some of my stuff to take to his gram’s, wanna help?”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “Not really.” Ginny shrugged.

“Fine then. You could go help Percy find his missing bit of paperwork?”

Ron went back upstairs. They chuckled as Harry pulled the door closed behind them.

“It’s not like I’m going to jump you every time we’re alone, though,” Harry said. “I have some self-control, y’know.”

Ginny laughed. “Oh, sure. Loads.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Definitely loads.”

That only made her laugh harder. She mimicked his stance, and Harry couldn’t help the glance to her neckline. Ginny laughed triumphantly; “See!”

“That’s not fair! You’re really attractive!”

Ginny dropped onto the bed, stifling her laughter. “But I thought you had loads of self-control.”

Harry glared at her. “I do!”

She shook her head. “Yeah, sure.”

“How about last night, huh? I had self-control plenty of times!”

Ginny’s cheeks tinged pink. “I wasn’t in the room then,” she said.

“Yeah, but while you in the bathroom, I had plenty of self-control.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, her face skeptical. “I’ve showered before, you know.”

“But not in my bathroom!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Okay, Harry, you win. You have **loads** of self-control.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. She shook her head; Ginny stood and moved to her trunk. “We should start packing.”

Harry uncrossed his arms, stepping forward. “Right. Do you wanna use your trunk or something else?”

“My trunk, it’s got a lightening charm on it. Help me empty it.”

Harry knelt down beside her and they started pulling clothes from it. Ginny tossed most of it onto her bed, but a few pieces landed on the floor. He just threw everything he took out onto the bed. Ginny suddenly paused, and caught his eye, smirking.

“What?” he asked, frowning.

“Self-control test!” she said, pulling something out of the trunk with a jerk. Harry started, then turned red as she dangled a bra in his face. He steeled his nerves, then snatched it from her hand and threw it to the bed.

“Real mature,” he said. Ginny only laughed.

The trunk was soon empty, and she began to sort the things. All of her robes were put in the closet, as well as the few dresses and skirts she’d brought to Hogwarts and warmer clothing. They started on the tee shirts and Harry found one that made him pause. He lifted it up, looking at her quizzically.

“Why do you have one of my shirts?” he asked.

Ginny looked up, then tugged it from his hands. “That’s my shirt,” she said, sticking her nose in the air.

“But it’s mine!” 

She folded it neatly in half and pressed it to her chest. “It’s mine.”

Harry looked at the pile of clothes. He leaned in closer, then tugged out another one and looked back of her. “This one’s mine too!”

“No, it’s mine!”

“You’re stealing my clothes!”

“They’re comfy!”

“But –”

Ginny leaned in and pecked him on the lips. “They’re comfy,” she repeated, taking the second shirt from him and tossing them into a drawer.

“You’re not taking them?”

“Harry, you have plenty of other shirts at your Gram’s that I can steal.”

Harry sighed, resigned to it now. “You’ve not taken any of my other clothes have you?”

“Some socks,” she said, “but only the thick woolen ones you don’t like.”

Harry paused. “Oh. I thought Dobby took those.”

Ginny shook her head at him as she continued sorting the clothing.

Half of the clothes that had come out of the trunk went back in, including the socks she’d mentioned and the same bra she’d used to test his self-control. He had to admit, it was a pretty bra. She’d whacked him in the shoulder when he thought it.

“I’m going to have to give you a bloody dresser,” he exclaimed, looking at the clothes in the trunk.

“No, we’ll divide them up evenly,” she said. “I’ve only got one dresser here, anyway, so it’d be fair.”

Harry sighed in mock resignation. “I have lost my life as a single man,” he moaned. “I shall never again get to have my own sock drawer!”

Ginny pushed him onto the bed, he fell with a theatrical groan. 

“You were never a single man,” she admonished. “You always had me in your head, remember?”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, grinning at her. “Yeah. And I always will.”

Ginny turned pink, glancing down at the floor. His sudden sappy grin spread wider, he jumped off the bed and crossed over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her forehead, and grinned down at her. She, still pink, looked up and closed her eyes. He took the hint, and gently kissed her lips.

_This really will be forever._

_I can’t wait._

“Mooorning, Ginny,” they jumped apart as the door opened abruptly, “have you seen my wart powder?” They groaned; George looked between them. “What?”

“We were having a moment!” Ginny snapped. 

“Oh. Well, I’ll wait.”

George sidled into the room, his hands in his pockets. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, a patient expression on his face. Harry covered his eyes with a palm at the sight.

“George!” Ginny let out a sound of frustration as Fred came in the open door. “Wart powder?”

George pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him loudly. “They’re having a moment,” he said in an ineffective whisper.

Fred gave a soft “O-oh,” grimaced apologetically, then said “Sorry!” in an equally loud whisper.

“We **were** having a moment,” Ginny said, putting emphasis on the word 'were'. “It has ended now.”

“Oh, good, then have you seen my wart powder?”

Harry looked at Ginny, then shoved George from the room, knocking Fred out of the doorway, as Ginny shut the door. She brushed of her hands and grinned at him.

“We make such a good team,” Harry said.

“Yep! Now, help me with these books.”

They replaced most of her textbooks in the trunk, then fictional novels, then sketch books and other tomes of subject she was interested in. Her pencils, quills, ink, and paints were packed up in a little box and put in the trunk as well. Both of them agreed that his house was much more suited to activities requiring focus.

The trunk was soon re-packed, though only half full, and closed. Harry opened her door to take the trunk downstairs, saw Fred open his mouth, and closed it again.

“How about we chill for a minute?” Harry suggested to Ginny, turning to face her.

“Uh, sure.”

Harry sat down on her bed, staring up at her. She sat down on the trunk, propped her chin on her elbow and her elbow on her knee, staring at him. 

_You’re going to blink first,_ Ginny declared.

_Are we having a staring contest?_

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“When are you due?”

“For what?”

“Your period.”

Ginny was taken aback, and blinked. Harry let out a sound of triumph. She cursed and sat up. “Next week, if you really wanted to know.”

“I already knew.”

“Of course you did.”

“Wanna make out?”

“You don’t have self-control.”

“I do, I just chose not to use it.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “We should go pack your stuff.”

“I think Fred’s still outside.”

Ginny stood up, crossed to the door, and opened it. Fred drew in his breath, and she closed it again.

“Yeah, let’s make out.”

“I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that!”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother’s voice, but crossed to the bed and dropped down beside Harry. He scooted backwards, and she lay down, placing her head in his lap and her feet dangling over the end of the bed. Harry leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and slipping his fingers into her hair.

“Seriously, Ginny I wanted to ask you something!”

“Go away Fred!”

“It’s about the thing Harry gave us!”

Ginny opened her eyes, looking up at him. “What did you give him?”

“The Tri-Wizard winnings.”

Ginny frowned. “What?”

“To start their joke shop.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Guys?”

“We should just let him in,” Harry said.

“Noooo,” she whined. “He’ll ruin the moment.”

“We’re not having a moment.”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “If we pretend really hard that he’s not there, we can.”

“Fred, come in.”

“Noooo,” she whined again, but Fred opened the door and stepped inside. 

“George is still looking for the wart powder, but we wanted to ask you guys something.”

“What?” Ginny drawled.

“Well, I know you said you were making a donation, Harry, but we’d still like to repay you.”

“No, I don’t want to be paid back!” Harry insisted.

“Listen!” Fred admonished. “How about partners? The both of you get a third.”

“I didn’t give you any money,” Ginny said.

“Yeah, but you two share money,” he said. “At least we figured that, given your situation, you do, so both of you gave us money.”

Ginny groaned, then rolled over and buried her face in Harry’s stomach. “I don’t want to think that hard! It’s summer!”

“What do you say, Harry, partners?”

Harry hesitated. “That was a donation.”

“Come on, Harry!”

“How about you call him an investor and pay him back in products?” Ginny suggested. “When he tries to buy them, you give them to him.”

Fred considered this. “Oh. Well. I suppose that works.”

George stuck his head in the room. “I agree with Ginny. Getting Harry to agree to a third share is going to be impossible, like I told you.”

“Shush! Zip it! Go away!”

George shrugged and kept going.

Ginny took out her wand and pointed it at Fred. “Take it or leave it.”

“Taking it. Now leaving.”

Fred closed the door behind him. Ginny dropped her wand onto the bedspread and snuggled back to Harry. He leaned down and kissed her forehead softly.

“It’s half past six,” he said.

Ginny opened her eyes. “We still have to get your stuff.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “We can do that tomorrow.”

Ginny sighed and nodded. “Okay.” 

Harry leaned against the wall once more, his eyes drifting shut, as Ginny settled her head on his knee.

They were awoken sometime later by Ron sticking his head in and announcing dinner. Harry groggily lifted his head and saw that it was ten past seven. Ginny sat up slowly, then looked at him seriously.

“Wanna make out?” she asked softly.

“Ha ha,” he mocked. Ginny chuckled; he pushed himself off the bed and stretched. Ginny scooted to the edge of the bed, watching him. Harry glanced into her side of his mind, and saw that she was staring at the strip of skin that had been revealed by his raising his arms up. He dropped his arms, grinning. “Now who has no self-control?”

Ginny jumped up, then pressed her mouth to his in a rapid but deep kiss. “You,” she said, darting away. Harry clenched his fists to avoid grabbing her, but followed her from the room. 

“I have way more than you give me credit for!” Harry called after her.

“More what?” Ron asked, standing halfway down the stairs.

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

Ron only shrugged and kept going.

After dinner, they migrated back upstairs and took up her trunk. They had asked to stay at his house again that night, and Ginny’s parents had acquiesced their request. Harry guessed that Mrs. Weasley understood his continued nervousness around her brothers from the pitying look she had given him.

They left Ginny’s unpacking for the morning and got ready for bed. Harry showered first that night, making sure to brush his teeth thoroughly while he was in the bathroom. They climbed under the blankets and turned off the light, settling down next to each other, and fell asleep.

The past few nights their dreams had been empty, and they had been grateful for it, but that night they were unlucky. For Fate herself was watching over them and their minds, and she fed their imaginations with the gray magic from which their power had been born. 

Harry was standing in the garden of the Burrow, Ginny was next to him. He hardly noticed the people behind them or in front of them, as he was staring at all the golden lights resting in the air, drifting down and catching in their hair. Ginny was blushing but smiling, and her cream colored shirt reflected the light of her hair and the golden lights. Her eyes were shining. He so badly wanted to kiss her, but he for some reason felt he had to wait.

Then the golden lights suddenly tripled in their intensity, and Harry felt that that was the cue he’d been waiting for. He pulled her to him, kissing her with a deep impatience. 

They opened their eyes. They were standing no longer in the garden of her home, but in a lavishly furnished room, all decorated in red and gold. Harry kissed her again, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. There was a feeling of both anxiety and giddiness in him, but both fueled the way he kissed her. 

“OH SO THIS IS HOW IT IS???”

The deep, booming voice somehow did not startle them. They merely felt irritated that they had been interrupted. Harry thought he recognized the speaker, a tall man with pallid skin and a bald head, but the other person he did not. It was a woman of equally impressive stature, with pure white skin, red lips, and deep blue hair. 

“I was performing my duties.”

“You were exceeding your powers!” the man roared. “What have you done?!”

“I was performing my –”

“You were not! You had no right to perform that sort of transaction! Such a deed is foul beyond any in the dimension; such a deal!”

“We make these deals all the time.”

“Oh, no we do not! I grant deals to those worthy, you have committed an atrocity!”

“Payment shall be made, and payment in full.”

“Seven hundred seventy seven,” the man said, his voice suddenly soft. “Do you know… Do you know how many souls that truly is?”

“Seven hundred seventy seven.”

“No, you are thinking of a number! Think of the persons! Think of how many that will die because of what you agreed to!”

“Every mortal dies.”

“Every mortal finds their body expiring, not every mortal finds their soul unequivocally damned for eternity despite their own deeds!”

“Seven hundred seventy seven is not so many. There are billions upon billions of souls here.”

“Billions that deserved it! You have no idea what you have done!”

The woman looked calmly into the face of the man’s anger, her face as expressionless as a statue. “I know precisely. I have saved us.”

Harry and Ginny met eyes. Suddenly the bald man was gone and the woman turned away, facing their direction, but not seeing them. She stepped forward, the ground turning into stone as she walked. The dark gray stone seeped through the mahogany wood that paneled the floor, then up the walls, sucking the furniture and the lavishness into its shadows. She stepped right past them, and a steep precipice formed before her. They crept forward, and saw over its edge an endless cavern filled with fire. 

The woman’s face was stained red by the violent light. It was then that they noticed the figures in the flames, the faint screams, the pain that laid upon the air like humidity. The woman’s back was ramrod straight as she stared across the pit, her eyes hollow.

“I have saved us all,” she whispered.

Fear struck Harry. What had she saved them from, and at what cost?

The woman’s head turned, rotating slowly. Her gaze landed near them, and they hurried backwards. Harry half expected her to turn to face them, but she turned her head back, leaning it forward to peer downwards.

Then there was a sickening sound of cracking bones, and her head was turning at a horrible angle; her skin stretching at the strain of turning her head to look directly behind her without moving the rest of her body. Harry clapped a hand to his mouth, repressing a gag.

“You may judge me,” she said. She expressed no pain, only addressing calmly something they did not see or sense. “You may proclaim me evil. It matters not. I have secured my place in the Great Beyond, and none can take it from me.” Her body turned to match her head, her neck cracking back into place, and she stepped towards them. “I have done you a favor. I have given you what you need to refresh.”

She narrowed her eyes, and they saw that she had no whites. Her eyes were entirely blue, as if they were made of sapphires. “What say you, great one?”

They had heard that before. Before, nothing had happened. Then it had made no sense. Now –

The ground shook; the edge of the precipice loomed closer, however the woman expressed no fright. Warm air spilled over their shoulders, and they were suddenly lifted from the stone ground. 

The voice that shook the room next was less of a voice and more of a thought. It growled a deep guttural noise, then spoke in English. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

The woman had followed their rise into the air, but her eyes focused on something above them still. “Such thoughts are arrogant.”

“Such thoughts are wisdom.”

“Why is it so?”

“After the years, it is experience.”

The woman turned her back. “If you say so.”

They were suddenly propelled forward, Harry’s stomach turning over at the force, and they dangled over the edge. They both screamed, however the sound was lost the moment it exited their mouths. Heat emanated even from the hundreds of meters between them and the ground, but they remained suspended.

“You claim you have saved the world.”

“I do.”

“You have saved yourself.”

“I am included in the world.”

“You are a fool.”

“So says years of experience?”

“So says years of common sense.”

Had he not been dangling over the literal pit of Hell, Harry might have laughed. The woman only sighed, and stepped back. “You are a mean one, even if you are great.”

“I am great for I show no mercy upon those who do not deserve it.”

The woman looked directly up, her neck cracking again as her head angled. “And you are the champion for good.”

“I am the champion for light. Light is produced from heat, and heat is lost if it is indecisive. If it flickers, even for a moment, it dies, if it hesitates, it fades. The strongest light is bright, and the brightest light is harsh upon the eyes of men.”

“So they say.”

Harry tried to yell that he would like if they were placed back on solid ground, but his mouth would produce no sound.

“Answer me this, o great one,” the woman said. “Had I not done what I did, would you have found what you needed?”

The ground shook once more, and they felt it even dangling in the air. It shook first with anger, and then with resignation.

“No.”

So the woman looked back to the pit, her neck cracking once more, and said nothing else. The presence that held them aloft retreated, setting them back upon the edge. The woman turned away, her feet carrying her from the edge and the pit. Harry pulled Ginny to him; his hands had gotten cold despite the immense heat. The woman faded from sight, and as she did, the stone beneath them did too. Mahogany floors slowly materialized into being beneath them, but too slowly, and they were falling. Falling, screams tearing from their mouths and vanishing in the wind, falling into hell.

“Seven hundred and seventy seven!” the man’s voice boomed. “You have damned seven hundred and seventy seven!”

“I have made one!”

The flames rattled as they fell, figures crying out for mercy, and one voice echoed around them: “Harry! Ginny!”

“Wake up!”

Harry sat up so quickly his head spun; Ginny gasped deeply, her body trembling from the adrenaline rush. A blurrily feminine form was standing over them, her hands held out in the air as if she had just pulled back from shaking them. Her face was white.

“You were screaming,” she said. 

Harry did not reply. He squinted around, seeing other figures around him. He turned, groping at the nightstand for his glasses. He found them and pulled them on. 

It was his aunt, but his grandmother was standing at the doorway, her hands clutching her chest. She too was pallid, her wispy hair and pastel clothing made her appear ghost-like in the light of the moon. Behind her, a curious Dudley peered into the room.

“It was a dream,” he mumbled. Ginny was still staring straight ahead. Her eyes were just as hollow as the woman’s had been. He put his arm around her. He was trembling too.

Aunt Petunia looked over at his grandmother. “Should we do something?” she whispered.

Harry shook his head. “It was just a dream.”

“You were both screaming,” Gram rasped. 

“Our dreams are more potent than most,” Ginny murmured. 

_Never that potent, though._ There was worry and confusion on her brain; Harry felt the same.

_It would only worry them. We don’t know what happened or if it was even real._

_But we – we fell…_

Harry gently kissed her temple. She pressed closer to him. 

Gram strode forward; she pressed shaking hands to their temples, but it seemed their temperature was fine. She stepped back, her face still worried.

“Should we call someone?” Gram asked.

Harry shook his head. “It was just a dream,” he murmured once more.

“As you keep saying,” Aunt Petunia said. Her voice was sharp, but Harry could tell it was from fear rather than anger.

“You’re not going to do that every night, are you?” Dudley spoke.

“Dudley!” Aunt Petunia admonished. “Go back up to bed.”

Harry’s cousin shook his head with a careless motion as he left the doorway. Harry could hear his steps going down the hall and up to the third floor.

“We’ll be alright,” Harry said. “You woke us up just in time.”

“In time for what?” Aunt Petunia asked.

“Never mind,” he mumbled.

Gram and his aunt met eyes. Their worried expressions worried him. How loud had they been screaming?

“Should we stay?” Gram asked. 

“No, it’s okay, Gram,” Harry insisted. “We’ll be fine.”

Aunt Petunia stepped towards the door. “I’ll leave my door open,” she said, though she did not add why. She left the room, leaving just his grandmother. 

Gram touched Ginny’s hair, then she bent and kissed both of their heads. “I’ll say a prayer for you,” she said softly. Harry nodded his thanks as she left the room.

Ginny pulled him back to the pillows. She kissed his cheek, pressing against him not for her own comfort, he realized. 

“What was that?” he whispered.

“And why did we both dream it?” Ginny asked. “Normally I get the prophetic stuff.”

“Maybe it happened when we got five hours.”

“It must’ve.”

Harry turned on his side to lock his arms around her waist. He inhaled slowly, breathing in her scent. 

“I never thought about an afterlife,” Ginny whispered. Harry did not reply immediately. Her gaze was fixed on his chest, her fingers holding onto his tee shirt. “Mum told me once that we go into magic when we go. I don’t think I understood her at the time.”

“Aunt Petunia used to take us to church,” Harry whispered. “When Dudley and I were really young and Uncle Vernon… Uncle Vernon wasn’t drinking so much. The Sunday school teachers told us about God and heaven and hell and that we were all born doomed for hell but God loved us so he died to pay our way into heaven but he wasn’t really dead, he came back…”

“That sounds a lot scarier than going into magic.”

“They worded it nicely, I think. Though after that first lesson, Dudley told me that I was so freakish that even God didn’t want me. I think it was the only time I saw Aunt Petunia reprimand him when we were kids.”

“God did want you, though, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what the church ladies said, I think. We stopped going when I was about seven.”

Ginny pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I never learned about a god. This sounds very interesting.”

Harry laughed softly. “It’s incredibly boring when you’re seven.” His smile faded. “But what we saw…”

“What?”

“Do – is there really a devil?” he asked her.

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know. That Abraham said that you had to summon one to make a Horcrux, so I suppose there is.”

Harry nodded absently. “Church people tell you about the devil too. They had a name, but I’ve forgotten.”

“I think most cultures have a devil.”

_Do you think we saw Hell?_

_I don’t know._

**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

As their breathing slowed and fell into synchronicity, Fate’s hands retreated from the crystal pool with which she observed them. She raised her eyes to the form before her, her aged face expressing doubt.

“You were wrong,” she said in her deep voice. 

“I am on occasion, as are you.”

“I less often.”

“’Tis not a contest.”

Fate waved her hand, looking back down. What they had seen first was yet to come, but the second had come to pass a long time ago, before even their birth, however the situation had not much changed. The transaction held firm. Death had long since accepted his apprentice’s folly, and they had learned to overcome it. The blunder had both dangerous and blessed effects upon the world, and indeed what had happened needed to be done. The power that was generated was needed.

“They do not see what we try to show them,” whispered the other person.

“It is hard,” Fate replied, “when their eyes have only seen fifteen years living. They do not sense what you want them to because they are too young.”

“We cannot be clearer to them.”

“No, we cannot.”

“If only Felix Commisurra was more compliant…”

“The Seam is never compliant.”

The other person sagged in their chair. “I cannot imagine why our sister triggered it so soon.”

Fate did not answer. She touched one long, brittle finger to the surface of the pool, and two figures appeared in it. They were sleeping once again.

“Shall we send them more?” asked the other.

“No. They have had enough for now.”

“I thought they would have understood by now.”

“My dear, they have been given only a few pieces of information.”

“Key pieces.”

“But only a few, nonetheless.”

The other sighed. “Very well. Enough for now.”

Fate nodded. “Retire, sister. The mortals sleep.”

Fate’s sister rose from her chair. From the light of the mystic pool, the woman’s dark eyes and soft complexion were stained pink and purple. “Good night, sister.”

Fate inclined her head as her sister left. She looked down on the sleeping forms of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. They would soon know more. They would soon know all.

“Soon is relative,” Fate rasped.


	30. G-g-g-Ginerva W-w-whu-Weasley!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Thirty  
G-g-g-Ginerva W-w-whu-Weasley!  
Ginny**

June had finished the day they’d returned, and July was shaping up to be hotter than ever before. The first week of their new living arrangement was spent in awkward silences inside their bedrooms; they spent nights at his grandmother’s house almost the entire time to avoid the extra humans at Ginny’s house, and the fact that he had a queen size bed rather than a twin like she did did not hurt.. During the day, they rode his grandmother’s horses or played Quidditch in the old apple orchard near her house or did homework in varying places in between chores or meals. By the second week of the month, neither of them had begun unpacking. 

Ginny’s trunk sat in his room, still closed and full, and his sat in hers in the exact same state. The two of them found the whole situation too awkward to finally begin putting themselves more permanently in the other’s room.

But this was getting inconvenient.

It was the second Sunday of July, and the two of them had just lost collectively to Ron at chess. They stumped up to her room in defeat as Ron gleefully went to get a victory sandwich. 

“I don’t think we’ll ever beat him,” Harry sighed.

“Never,” Ginny agreed. “I don’t really care though. He can be a chess prodigy for all I care. He can’t draw a stick figure to save his life, I can't win at chess, we’re even.”

“You two are, what have I got?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him as she dropped down at her desk. “Perhaps the brilliant flying skills that are encoded into your DNA?” she suggested. Harry pondered this, then shrugged and flopped down onto her bed, the only other clear surface in the room. Ginny looked around, at the laundry that they needed to do and Harry’s trunk in the middle of her room and the school work sprawled across the floor, and sighed.

“I know, I know,” Harry said, getting back up. He kicked the trunk closer to the wall. “Better?”

She shook her head. “It’s not big enough.”

“Your room?” 

“Yes. It’s too cramped with all this in here.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want to do then?” 

Ginny shook her head. “I don’t know.” She studied the walls, painted lilac and the teddy bear border at the top of the walls from when this room had been a nursery, the posters and drawings she’d put up to cover the cracks in the paint and the random plugs her father had put up to decorate the room, the faded flowery quilt that her great grandmother had made before she’d been born and before she had arthritis, the scratched and scuffed up furniture, the marks in the desk that Bill had made when it had been his… everything in the room was old and fading, all if it coming from some other family member. Harry stepped towards her and pulled her up from the chair, into his chest and a warm embrace.

“We’re going to be living in this room for quite a while,” she said.

“Also my room.”

“Yes, that too, but it’s just as cramped.”

“Well, you keep leaving your stuff on the floor.”

“Hush. My point is that it’s too cramped.”

“And?” She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, thinking over a proposition. “What?” he asked.

“You’re quite rich,” she said.

“That is a different subject.”

“I am not rich.”

“What does this have to do with your tiny bedroom?”

“New stuffs costs lots of gold.”

“Ginny, you realize that considering we destined to spend the rest of our lives together, my stuff is your stuff by now, right? Including money.”

“Yes…” she said. “But my point is that my family couldn’t afford to replace my crappy furniture and extend the room.”

“Can’t you just use magic to make it bigger?”

“Not really, you have to pay a specialist to come in because it’s very complicated magic and you do have to pay for the supplies to make the extension of the room.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, my room is tiny, and I won’t ask my parents to pay for making the room bigger.”

“You want us to pay for it?”

“And some new furniture so you can put all your stuff away,” she said.

Harry shrugged. “Sure. We’ll ask Gram if we can extend my room too.”

“Good. Dad should be home soon, and we’ll ask if we can do this.”

“Okay.”

Ginny gave him a quick kiss. “Can we paint both rooms too?”

“What’s wrong with the paint in my room?”

“It’s beige.”

“What’s wrong with beige?”

“It’s very boring.”

“Well, what color should it be?”

“Something not boring.”

Harry shook his head. “Fine. As you wish,” he mocked bowed. Ginny stuck her nose in the air and turned away. Harry, rolling his eyes, pulled her back and kissed her again. She smirked against his lips.

That night after dinner, they found her parents both in the kitchen discussing something. They stopped when the two of them entered the room, and her mother set down the dish she was washing.

“What is it, dears?” she asked pleasantly.

“We wanted to ask you something,” Ginny started.

“Yes?”

She glanced at Harry. _Go on._

_Wait, what? Why me? They’re your parents!_

_You’re paying for it!_

Harry gulped. “Um, we wanted to ask if we could extend Ginny’s room some.”

Her parents frowned, glancing at each other. Her father looked strained as he turned back to them. “Erm, we’d love to, but, well –”

“We’d pay for it,” Harry interrupted.

Her parents were taken aback. “Beg pardon?” her mother said.

“We would pay for it,” he said again. “For all of it. I mean, we’re going to do the same to my room over at my gram’s and we’d pay for that too, so we figured it would just make sense to do both rooms.”

Her parents looked at each other, the both of them seemed slightly flustered.

“Erm,” her mother began. “I don’t see why not?”

Her father shrugged his shoulders. “There’s no reason to stop them,” he said. “You have our permission,” he told them.

“Thanks, Dad,” Ginny said, darting over and giving him a quick hug. He patted her shoulder, then shooed them away, telling them that he and her mother needed to keep talking.

“Your room or mine?” Harry asked her.

“I have a twin bed,” she said. “Yours.”

They returned to his grandmother’s house a half hour or so later, as they always did. After asking and receiving permission to magically extend Harry’s room – his gram told them that they could just take down the wall between his room and the guest room next to it –, they collapsed onto the bed after changing and fell asleep almost immediately.

Over that week, plans were drawn and lists made, and a contractor was hired to extend the rooms. By that Saturday, Ginny’s room was almost doubled and the wall between Harry’s room and the guest room next to it had been removed. The next week, the rooms were repainted – Harry’s a soft hue of cobalt, and her own a pale apple green –, Ginny’s beat up furniture, including the twin bed, were replaced, and they were finally ready to unpack their trunks.

The still didn’t for another week.

Before they knew it, the end of July was approaching and they had been living together for almost a month. Harry’s birthday was coming, a party was in the midst of being planned, and the whole of the Weasley household was bright and cheery.

Both Harry and Ginny were again wondering why the world felt so light despite Voldemort’s return, it in fact almost worried them. The dream they’d had at the beginning of July had not returned, however snippets of it had wormed its way into other dreams. They began to blend together, the events blurry and confusing, however it felt like it was all repetition. The room they’d appeared in before witnessing the shouting match that had led to their fall into hell was a frequent visitor in their dreams, yet so was Harry’s vault in Gringotts. They would often find themselves at Hogwarts, going up to their separate dorms as they did the year before, but when they opened the curtains to their bed they would always end up back in that room. If they remembered what exactly happened in a dream when morning came, it was that nothing was new. They had not dreamt anything about Voldemort since his return. 

But their surroundings were happy. Both of their families were cheerful and with the prospect of Harry’s birthday right around the corner, they did their best not to dwell on their dreams.

Harry was to be fifteen in just a week, and Ginny had yet to buy him a gift. Lately, it had been difficult to keep the door between their minds closed for long periods of time, so the only times she’d been able to think about what to get him were while one of them was in the shower and the door was held firmly shut by both of their minds. He’d gotten her Chasers gloves and a lovely ring for her birthday – she wore the ring very often – but there was little she could get him. He didn’t need anything and with all that he’d inherited there was not much he did not already have. There was not a lot that she could think of that would be particularly meaningful she could buy. She had given him plenty of meaningful things already, so at that point she had to begin branching out.

The Thursday before his birthday, which was a Sunday that year, Harry’s grandmother and her mother went out to London to buy gifts and party supplies. Ginny tagged along, which meant that Harry did too, but when they had finished with the supply run and entered Diagon Alley to buy his gifts they dropped him off at Florean Fortiscue’s, told him to stay put and do his homework. He bought himself an ice cream after the two adults walked away and continued reading Fellowship of the Ring. Ginny rolled her eyes at him but didn’t rat him out. 

Mum had a list from the boys of the things they wanted to get Harry and his grandmother had a similar one. Ginny suspected that Dudley had been forced to say he was getting Harry a gift, even if he still didn’t have to pay for it. His aunt and cousin had become more kindly to Harry over the past four years they’d been living in Ottery St. Catchpole, and Ginny knew it was the influence of his grandmother that had done it. His aunt in particular, though still sharp, was fond of him in the way that aunts should be. 

Gifts were bought, and Ginny finally managed to settle her mind on something to give her boyfriend. The party would be held on the afternoon of his birthday, after his grandmother and aunt returned from church. Ginny and Ron would have the job of keeping Harry out of the way while his house was decorated and the party prepared; knowing him, he would want to help. Ginny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t help, but his grandmother insisted that one had no work that had to be done on one’s own birthday, which made some sense. 

The day arrived, and the party was spectacular. Gram had finally gotten Harry to make a list of more than Hermione and the Weasleys to invite, meaning that guests Harry’s room-mates, Neville, Seamus, and Dean, Luna Lovegood, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, even Oliver Wood, who’d graduated already, all came. Hagrid, Remus, Sirius, her brothers, and of course her parents were there as well, Sirius had brought his Auror cousin Tonks, and even Dumbledore stopped by to wish Harry a happy birthday. For an afternoon, the two of them completely forgot about Voldemort.

He had quite an impressive haul that year; a brand new set of Quidditch pads from the Gryffindor team, posters of Britain’s top teams from Dean and Seamus, new robes from both his grandmother, aunt, and Ginny’s parents, a model Quidditch pitch complete with two sets of players from Remus and Sirius, boxes of Honeydukes’ sweets from both Hagrid and Luna, a book on defensive hexes from Neville, brand new and quite lovely quills from Percy, Filibuster fireworks from Fred and George, Seeker’s gloves from Ron, and lastly: 

Harry ripped the paper off Ginny’s gift to reveal a plain cardboard box. He shook it, then pulled open the flaps. He looked down into it, and laughed.

“What did she give you?” Ron asked.

He withdrew five brand new tee shirts. He grinned at her and said: “Is this because you’ve stolen almost all of my old ones?” he asked.

“Yep,” she told him with a bright grin. He laughed further. _I suppose you paid for them with my money too?_

 _Our money,_ she correct him reprovingly. He kept laughing. 

His fifteenth birthday was all in all a brilliant time. The majority of the guests returned home sometime after four; before Neville left, however, Ginny pressed on him his own gift – a set of books on magical herbs in Europe –, as his birthday had been the day before. Harry’s room-mate blushed, stammered a thank you, then gave her a quick hug before taking the Floo back to his home. They had an early dinner, then Remus, Sirius, and Tonks too returned home. After a bit more visiting, Ginny’s family returned to the Burrow and Ginny and Harry took his things back up to his room. They got ready for bed, Ginny wearing one of the shirt’s she had previously stolen from Harry, and retired for the night.

The next morning, they found Remus and Sirius already at the kitchen table with his grandmother, and even Tonks was there. His aunt had already left for work, and Dudley was at a friend’s house.

“Hi,” Harry said to them, looking around in slight confusion.

“Morning, Harry,” Remus said. 

“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked them.

“To begin training you,” Sirius told them. “With You-Know-Who back, it’s time you started focusing on dueling skills.”

“But we’re not allowed to use magic outside school,” Harry said.

“Which is why we’ll be going back to Hogwarts for the afternoon.”

Harry shrugged, then dropped into a chair. Ginny took a seat as well and poured herself some coffee. “So, why is Tonks here too?”

“I’m quite good at dueling,” Tonks answered. “Dumbledore asked if I’d be willing to help out. We’re going to start training you like the do over at the Auror department.”

“Oh. Cool,” was all Harry said. 

With that, they ate quickly, then ran back upstairs to get dressed. When they returned, the four adults were in the sitting room waiting for them. 

“Ready?” Sirius asked them.

They nodded; a quick good-bye was said to Harry’s grandmother and then they were all taking the Floo.

Upon arrival, the very first thing that happened was reading. Remus sat them down in the library and made them read for an hour on the basics of dueling. There was more to dueling than just knowing spells needed to be an expert. Unfortunately, they had little more than spells. 

After the hour was up, they left the library for the seventh floor. Tonks led them forward, and when she stopped outside a bare stretch of wall, the two of them were slightly confused. She paced up and down opposite a tapestry of trolls in tutus, and when she stopped, a door had appeared from nowhere. They both gasped; the pink-haired Auror opened the door and bowed to them.

“Welcome to the Room of Requirement,” she said. 

“How did you do that?” Ginny asked. 

“Pace three times, all the while thinking of what you need, and the Room becomes it.”

“Wow,” the two of them whispered as the stepped inside. The room before them was huge; there was a giant dueling circle in the middle of the room, with different tools and bookshelves around it, but one half of the room was in darkness. Tonks ushered them in and to the circle.

“First rule of dueling,” she began, “what I say, goes. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said. Ginny saluted. 

“We’re not just having fun,” Tonks warned, “I’m training you to fight. We’ll be doing a lot of work here, but by the end of the summer you should be able to defeat me in a duel. I was top of my class for dueling in Auror training, so that won’t be easy. I’m not just teaching you magic, either.” 

She snapped her fingers. The unlit portion of the room was suddenly illuminated, and their eyes got wide; the rest of the room filled with what Harry recognized as exercise equipment. Ginny groaned. She was by nature opposed to having to exercise.

“We’ll work on your physical fitness as well as magical,” she said. “That means you’ll be doing strength training, running, hand to hand combat, and yoga.”

“Yoga?” Harry asked with a frown. “Why yoga?”

“Flexibility is very useful,” Tonks said. “Balance too, and it will help develop muscles.” She clapped her hands together. “We’ll start with a quick duel so I can see what level you’re at. You two against me, try to disarm me.”

The two of them moved to one side of the circle, with Tonks on the other. They drew their wands and bowed to their teacher, performing the niceties.

“Go!” she said.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried immediately. His charm shot towards Tonks, who side-stepped it. Crap, Ginny thought.

The both of them advanced, but not one of their spells landed on Tonks, however the same was true in opposite. After ten minutes, they were already panting from having to duck and dodge her spells; they barely had time to get their own spells into the fight.

“Come on, try harder!” Tonks encouraged, as Harry jumped away from another jinx. She was twice as good as Remus or Sirius, perhaps even twice as both of them put together. The duel was not in their favor, and there was two of them. Ginny tried to get an Impediment jinx under the Auror’s guard, but she simply blocked it and cast another spell to her. Ginny, already fatigued, did not move quickly enough to get out of the way, and ropes sprang up around her; her wand fell from her hand. 

“Ginny!” Harry scolded.

“Sorry! Look out!”

He looked up in time to duck a blue hex, then jumped out of the way of the next one, landing on the floor. He scrambled to get up, but his wand flew out of his hand as a third charm struck him.

“Match finished,” Tonks declared. She flicked her wand and the ropes around Ginny vanished. “Good try, guys.”

Ginny sighed as Harry picked himself up off the floor. They had a long way to go.

It seemed that Tonks agreed, because she headed for the exercise equipment in the back, to a large green rubber mat that spread across most of the room. “Time for warm ups, come on! You guys, too,” she added to Remus and Sirius.

The two of them met eyes, and they sighed. This was going to be tough. 

Warm ups, they found, were called that because you spent ages straining to touch your toes, all the while getting hot in the face in embarrassment at your own inflexibility. Strangely, Sirius was the most flexible of them all, not including Tonks, who could nearly do a split and could sit on the floor, legs splayed, and fold completely in half. Ginny felt as if the warm ups alone were enough, but no, Tonks had them get up for more. 

“Boys, jumping jacks,” Tonks directed Sirius, Remus, and Harry. “As many as you can.” They groaned and started on the jumping exercises.

Ginny frowned. “Why just them?”

Tonks raised an eyebrow at her. “You think I want to do jumping jacks with these babies?” she asked, pointing to her own chest. Ginny felt her cheeks get a little warmer, glancing down at herself. She hadn’t considered that.

“While they’re doing that, you and I will do some situps.”

Ginny pouted. She wouldn’t get a break any time soon. 

Sirius quit at what he claimed was thirty, but Ginny suspected was closer to twenty. Harry flopped onto the ground almost immediately after Sirius, but Remus kept at it for another minute. Tonks showed her how to do sit-ups and held her feet while Remus finished his jumping jacks. She managed 11 and a flop. 

“Come on, guys, these are just the warm ups!” Tonks called at Sirius and Harry lying spread eagle on the floor. 

“I’m warm!” Harry choked out between deep breaths.

“I’m warmer!” Sirius panted. “Holy fu – udge…”

Remus scowled at Sirius as he dropped down beside him. Sirius looked bashful, but he added: “I corrected myself!”

“We’re fifteen, not five,” Ginny told them.

“Everyone up!” Tonks demanded. “We’re just starting!”

“I am fat and lazy,” Sirius told her, propping his body up on his elbows. “Excuse me.”

“You’re not fat,” Remus admonished him. Sirius rolled his eyes at him. Ginny glanced at Tonks and wondered if she knew about them; Tonks only clapped her hands at them.

“Up! Next up is the treadmills.”

“The what?” Sirius asked.

“Treadmills,” Tonks repeated. “They’re like conveyor belts but you run on them.”

“We’re running?” Ginny asked. 

Tonks nodded. Then she paused. “Oh, I forgot, one second,” she said. She snapped her fingers and there was a sudden wall between them and the guys. She held out a small, white article of clothing. “This is a sports bra, it should help keep you in place while you’re running.”

Ginny took it. It looked much too small for her. “Why didn’t we put them on to do jumping jacks?”

“Because I don’t like jumping jacks,” Tonks said simply with a shrug. 

“You cruel person!” Harry shouted, having heard her.

Tonks looked vaguely startled by his exclamation, then shook her head. “Shut up, Harry! Anyway, go on and change.” With that, she turned away and pulled off her shirt. Ginny quickly looked away to avoid Harry seeing, then shut the door between them and pulled her own shirt off. She considered the sports bra, wondering how to get it on. She glanced over at Tonks and saw from the back her pulling it on over her head. Ginny quickly removed the one she was already wearing and copied Tonks. It was quite stretchy, and despite her initial worry that it would break her lungs, it fit her ribs just fine and she could breathe normally. Her chest had been flattened by almost half, however. She put her shirt back on, turned to see Tonks once again fully clothed, and Tonks snapped her fingers. The wall vanished. 

“Treadmills are right behind you,” Tonks said, pointing to five machines directly behind them. Tonks strode past them and climbed onto the one in the very middle. “Everyone come over here so I can show you how to turn it on.”

A minute later, Ginny was walking on the moving belt at a brisk pace. Tonks had showed them to program it so that the speed of the belt increased over time, so that in thirty minutes they would be running. The treadmill wouldn’t turn off for another forty five minutes.

By the time she was running, she was breathing heavy. The sports bra did indeed keep her from bouncing uncomfortably, and strangely it did not affect her breathing at all. She guessed that it was charmed, but also wished that she didn’t have to be running. Once, when Tonks wasn’t looking, she leaned on the rails of the treadmill and put her feet on the sides of it, breathing for a short moment as the belt sped on beneath her.

Forty five minutes felt more like forty five hours, but finally the treadmill beeped and began to slow down. She altered her own speed so that she came to an eventual stop.

“Good job, everyone!” Tonks called. “Water break.”

Ginny jumped off the treadmill and moved sluggishly but as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her to the table that had appeared out of nowhere, laden with water bottles. She dropped onto the floor, grabbing a bottle, and gulped the water down. The others were there too; Remus tossed aside an empty bottle and cracked open another. Harry sat down beside her, then lay his body across her lap, his mouth open. She rolled her eyes but poured water into it. She finished her bottle and got another; Harry put his bottle into his mouth and held it with his teeth, guzzling it down thirstily. Ginny hadn’t felt out of shape that morning when she got up, but definitely felt like it now. Harry raised a hand and patted her shoulder vaguely, in attempts to reassure her. When he emptied the bottle, she plucked it from his mouth and bent to kiss him.

“No PDA!” Sirius whined. 

“Leave them alone, Padfoot,” Remus replied. “They’re young and in love.”

“Well, they can be young and in love after we’re done,” Tonks said, poking Harry’s leg with a foot. “We’ll do one more thing then have some lunch. Uppity!”

They groaned but stood. “What now?” Ginny asked.

“More sit-ups,” she said. 

They did sit-ups, thirty each before she let them finish. The thirty alone took almost fifteen minutes. After that, Tonks led them out of the room and down to the kitchens, the many sets of stairs causing them all to get a little out of breath again. After lunch, they waited for almost an hour for the meal to settle, and then went back up the stairs, only Tonks made them go back down each set to jog up the stairs again. In the Room of Requirement, their teacher had them do more stretches, and directed them to weight lifting. She each gave them a different weight, showed them how to change the weight, how to operate the different machines, and told them to do ten sets at the four different machines and to drink more water in between each machine. It took less time that Ginny had anticipated for them to finish, and then they were back on the green mat, this time for push-ups, planks, and the yoga. The most difficult part of the yoga was the balancing, and unfortunately she was the worst at staying still. Tonks ended up asking the room to give her a bar to hold onto. Remus and Sirius were only slightly better than she, but Harry was able to stand in place even if he wobbled every so often.

It was almost five when Tonks finally let them stop. They all scrambled for more water and lay on their backs for about a million years to relax. Tonks let them, pointing out the showers that had appeared in the back and going off into one half of the closed off area. Hot showers, she told them, were necessary to soothe their rather sore muscles. After finishing two more water bottles, Ginny pushed herself up and followed Tonks. Harry got up at the same time she did, and they divided to enter their own sides of the showers. Ginny paused and looked back after Harry was gone to shake a scolding finger at Sirius and Remus, who had already started to lean in to kiss each other. They both turned red as she left again.

The shower did help a great deal, Ginny found. She leaned her head forward as the water hit her back and shoulders, the pressure already beginning to loosen her muscles. There was a shower gel in the stall that smelled like mint and sugar, which relaxed her further. She dawdled until Tonks called for her to hurry up, a minute afterwards shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around herself. The towel was pleasantly warm and fluffy, she thought. 

They left the castle shortly after six, Flooing back to the Burrow. Mum had dinner ready when they arrived, and Ginny, feeling ravenous, ending up asking for thirds. 

After dinner, Tonks took the Floo back to the flat she shared with Sirius and Remus, but Harry’s guardians stayed to chat a while longer. Ginny was feeling full and sleepy, but she remained downstairs until they left.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Remus promised.

“What time?” Harry asked.

“Seven sharp,” he answered. Both he and Ginny groaned.

“Cheer up,” Sirius told them, “all this is eventually going to result in some very nice muscles.” He winked at them, but they only groaned again, this time in exasperation. 

And indeed, at seven sharp, they found the blankets yanked off of them by a grinning Sirius. “Up!” he called, acting much too cheerful for seven in the morning.

So that day was the same as the last. Reading in the morning, followed by a mock duel, and training for the rest of the day. They added another mock duel at the end by Wednesday, but their skill was not improving by any noticeable margin. On Saturday, they were given the day off, but Sunday they were back at it. The time they spent exercising shortened over the next two weeks to the point where they spent an hour and a half working out and the rest of their time practicing dueling; one of the things Tonks kept stressing was their footwork, moving rather than blocking and not remaining still for a spell to catch them off guard. 

The next Saturday, however, they were back at Hogwarts, this time to meet with Professor Dumbledore. Ginny’s parents, Harry’s guardians and his grandmother led them up to Dumbledore’s office. They were there to discuss how they would resolve their sleeping arrangement when the new term began in three weeks.

Dumbledore had them take seats in squashy purple armchairs; Ginny and Harry shared one. “Good morning,” he began. “There are several things we must cover today, but first I must outline what our plan is.”

Harry nodded, his eyes focused on Dumbledore’s. The Headmaster leaned forward in his chair, hands folded together. “For the past two weeks you have been training with Auror Nymphadora Tonks; you shall continue to do so as the school year starts, however altering the schedule to afternoon work outs rather than mid-day ones. Your school schedule shall remain the same, however after school you will be doing extra-curricular work. I will begin teaching you advanced magic, including Occlumency, Legilimency, and some very difficult spell work two evenings a week. You will be taking extra Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions lessons on Saturdays, alternating each week.” Harry stifled a groan at the thought of spending time with Snape, yet Dumbledore ignored it. “Twice a month you will duel against a skilled dueler to demonstrate your skills. Your week will be quite full, however I recognize your need for rest and relaxation, so you will not have any work to do on Sundays. In March you will be given extra time off for studying for O.W.L.’s, and I won’t have you working past eleven o’clock. Your health is the first priority, and your skill the second.”

“Sounds fair,” Harry said. “And Ginny will be doing this with me?”

“Yes. I will also have your closer friends take some of the extra Defense lessons and any physical training they wish to participate in. In the case of an attack, they will need to be able to defend themselves as Death Eaters are likely to target them in order to hurt you.”

Dumbledore looked firmly over his half-moon spectacles at Harry. “None of this should be taken lightly. Your skill in magic is already quite advance, and you have a lot of raw power, however in the event of an attack, you would be outgunned.” Harry looked down at his feet, remembering his fight with Voldemort in the graveyard. Ginny squeezed his hand gently. 

“I understand, sir,” Harry said. 

“I’m glad. All of this extra work is so that you can protect yourselves, though I hope that you’ll not have to use it any time soon.”

Dumbledore lifted his gaze, looking to the adults in the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, do you find this proposed schedule satisfactory?”

“Yes,” Dad answered. “I’m glad you’re considering his friends as well as Ginny.”

Dumbledore nodded, then looked to Harry’s guardians. Gram gave a curt nod. He looked back to them, then his expression shifted. “Now to address your sleeping arrangements.”

They sat up a little straighter, waiting.

“I have done as much research as I can without coming outright with what I was looking for, and have found only one loophole to the rule concerning students of opposite genders sharing a room.”

“What is it?” Mum asked.

Dumbledore looked at her parents. “The only way to allow it would be if the students in question were married.”

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other. The adults all seemed as if they had been expecting this answer.

“Not even if they were given quarters away from the rest of the student body?” Remus asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. “To do so would be against rules as well, especially if other students began to request the same treatment. It would set a poor precedent, which would cause the Board to become involved and risk their choosing to expel Harry and Ginny and fire me.”

Remus looked rather sheepish. “I see.”

Dumbledore turned to them. “The only choice is a marriage license.”

Ginny glanced at her parents; her mother was looking at her lap, her hands pressed to her bosom and her father had his arm around her. She could guess what they were thinking.

“If it is necessary, his aunt and I will give out permission,” Harry’s grandmother said softly.

Sirius gave a nod. “As his godfather, I give mine as well.”

Dumbledore nodded gratefully, then looked to her parents. Ginny’s father looked up to her; she saw the resignation in his eyes.

“We grant our permission,” he whispered.

Ginny got up and moved to her parents, putting her arms around both of them. Her father hugged her tightly; there were tears in her mother’s eyes but she was smiling, albeit sadly.

“It’ll be all right, Mum,” she murmured. 

“I know,” she said. “It’ll be perfect.” 

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Ginny released them, then sank back into her armchair next to Harry. He put an arm around her. Neither of them wanted to think just then even though they knew they had to.

“If the two of you do not wish to marry at this time, you would not be able to remain at Hogwarts and remain healthy,” Dumbledore told them. “You could remain home and take school there, tailoring your education to focus on the fight before you.”

“But we’d miss Hogwarts,” Harry said.

“You would,” Dumbledore replied. “It is your choice; homeschooling or marriage.”

Ginny was staring at her hands; Harry was trying to catch her eye but for some reason she couldn’t look up.

_We’re young,_ she thought.

_We already know that we’ll be together for the rest of our lives. Whether we get… get married now or later doesn’t matter._

_If we said no, we’d just get married later in life._

Harry pulled her closer to him, his forehead leaning on her temple. _Do you want to marry me?_

_Don’t be an idiot, of course I do. I love you._

_I love you too._

_Do you want to marry me?_

She finally met his eyes. He was smiling a tiny, but happy smile. _Definitely._

_Now?_

_Why not?_

Ginny laughed. The adults looked startled by her outburst. She squeezed his hand, her laughter fading to a small grin. “Why not indeed,” she muttered.

“If you would like more time to decide,” Dumbledore began.

“No, we decided,” Harry said. “We’ll get married.”

The Headmaster looked slightly relieved. “Very well, whenever you are ready we can go to the Ministry and perform the necessary paperwork.”

“Do you want a ceremony?” Mum asked.

“Erm…” Ginny said, looking at Harry, who looked slightly confused.

“But don’t we need a ceremony to get married?” Harry asked.

“Not really,” Remus replied, “all you need is the license, having a ceremony is just for show.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered.

Dumbledore smiled at them. “We would need to have the license granted at least a week before term starts so you can receive permission from the Board of Governors to have private quarters together.”

“Would doing this put the Weasleys in danger?” Harry asked.

“We are already on the Death Eater’s top ten,” Ginny’s father said before Dumbledore could reply. “We’re the biggest bunch of blood traitors in the Wizarding World.”

Dumbledore chuckled softly. “Yes, indeed. The only risk to the marriage is that Voldemort would be more likely to target Ginny in order to hurt you, however given the fact that you’ve been publicly dating for over two years, it is already clear that she means a great deal to you. You will probably have to endure a lot of speculation from the public, but that would be the worst of it. As long as you are diligent in your training, the both of you will be capable of protecting yourselves.”

_Ceremony or no ceremony?_ Harry asked her.

_I kind of want one now but I also want to be allowed to drink the champagne…_

He let out a snort. _Of course. But do you want one now?_

_A tiny one. And a gigantic one after graduation._

_Deal._

“A small ceremony would be good,” Ginny said. “But we should get the license as soon as possible.”

“Well, what if we had a small get-together around Christmas?” her mother suggested. “Then we’d have time to do it right.”

“That’s good,” Ginny said. “By then we’d be a little less awkward, probably.”

“No,” Harry said. “This is going to be awkward until we’re fifty.”

The adults in the room laughed. “Maybe so,” Ginny’s father replied.

Dumbledore rose from his chair. “The Marriage Offices will be open until seven this evening,” he said. “We could go now, if you wished.”

Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged. “All right. Will all of us go?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore replied. He strode to the fireplace on the other side of the office; they all rose from their chairs and followed the Headmaster. He offered Floo powder to Dad, who accepted it and was gone in a whoosh of green flame. They all proceeded forward, each going one at a time. Ginny followed Harry, and once she stepped out of the grate they were faced with a bustling Atrium. She slipped one arm through Harry’s and the other through her father’s. Her dad looked down at her with a soft smile; he bent and placed a kiss on her hair. 

The Headmaster exited the Floo, and stepped into the crowd. The seven of them followed him; Harry kept his head down and his hands in his pockets. Ginny hoped no one would recognize him, though as the greatest wizard of their time was just in front of them, she doubted anyone would stop to consider his bent head.

They all took the same lift and Dumbledore pressed a button; as it lurched downward, Ginny settled her head on Harry’s shoulder. 

_Excited?_ Ginny thought.

_Yeah,_ he replied. _We’re getting married._

_It is so weird._

_Entirely._

_Still, um, wait on the sex thing though._

_That’s probably a good idea._

_Maybe after we have an actual wedding…_

_Let’s just table it and say we won’t in the near future._

Ginny kissed his cheek. _Good idea._

The lift dinged and a woman’s voice purred: “Third Floor; Citizens’ Rights Department, Marriage Offices, Adoption Offices, Office for Defense Attorneys, Office for the Regulation and Distribution of Magical Contracts.”

As they stepped out, Ginny addressed her father. “Are those all the offices on this floor?”

“No, there’s at least five more,” Dad said. “I don’t particularly recall which ones, however.”

Ginny fell silent as Dumbledore led them forward. Her heart was beating like a kickdrum.

Dumbledore turned into a doorway on the right; there was a waiting area and a long desk at which several persons were sitting, some speaking to other people, some doing paper work. The closest available person to them was a middle aged witch who was stamping papers. 

“Welcome to the Office for Marriage Licenses, how may I help you?” she said in a flat, bored voice.

“I am Albus Dumbledore,” began the Headmaster. The woman’s gaze snapped upwards. “We are here to acquire a marriage license.”

“Er, for who?” the witch said.

“One Harry Potter and Ginerva Weasley.”

“Harry… Potter?” she repeated. Her eyes got sharp. “Harry Potter is underage,” she said.

“We have his guardians,” Dumbledore said. 

“I am not authorized to sign a license for an underage marriage,” she told them.

“Naturally, so we would need to speak with the Head of the Office?”

“Erm, yes,” she said, rising from her chair. “Follow me.”

Dumbledore bowed slightly to her, then they followed her from the front desk through another door, then to a closed door in the very back. The witch knocked on it, and called: “Sir? Professor Albus Dumbledore is here.”

“What? Oh; come in, come in!”

The witch opened the door, then stepped back. Dumbledore thanked her and entered the room; the rest of them followed.

A portly man with a shiny bald patch was rising from his desk. “Professor!” he said. “It is a p-pleasure to have you here, how m-may I help you?”

“We need an underage marriage license,” Dumbledore told him. “I was told you are allowed to grant those, Mr. Wimbleton?” Ginny glanced at the plaque on the desk, displaying the man’s name.

“Er, ye-yes, I am! Do you have the p-parents or guardians of the m-minors?”

“We do,” Dumbledore said, turning to gesture to the adults behind him. 

Wimbleton pulled a handkerchief from his robes and patted his bald spot. “Very g-good, good! N-now, an underage m-marriage will eh-emancipate the m-minors con-concerned, you are aware of this?”

“We are,” Dumbledore replied. 

“How old are the b-both of them?”

“They are both fifteen.”

“And w-what is the name of groom?” 

“Harry James Potter.”

Wimbleton turned pink. “P-p-p-Potter?” His eyes fell on Harry’s face, then his scar. “Oh – oh! Oh my…” Wimbleton stared for a few seconds, then shook himself and patted his bald spot once more. “Potter…”

He moved out from behind his desk and stepped towards the door. “If you would p-please wait here, I m-must go and fetch Mr. p-Potter’s file.” He hurried from the office.

Harry looked up Dumbledore. “I have a file?”

“You do,” Dumbledore replied. “The Marriage Office keeps an automatic record book of all wizards and witches who are eligible for marriage.”

“Why does he have to check it?” Harry asked.

“Procedure,” Dumbledore answered. “He must verify that you are eligible for marriage.”

“Why isn’t he checking Ginny’s file, though?”

“Witches are made automatically eligible for marriage at the age of fourteen regardless of family. For wizards, the age is determined by the head of the family.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Marrying age is fourteen?” she asked.

“It is an old law,” Dumbledore replied. “There have been several proposals to standardize both ages to sixteen, yet they have not made much progress in the Wizengamot.”

“It’s barbaric,” Mum sniffed. “What parent would want to give away their daughters when they’re still babies?”

“Witches are at their most fertile between the ages of thirteen and thirty,” Dumbledore answered. “Parents wished for their sons to have heirs quickly. As I said, it is an old law.”

“Barbaric,” her mother murmured once more. Ginny was looking at her feet. She was only a year past fourteen. She sighed, laying her head on Harry’s shoulder. This was out of necessity, and she wouldn’t be giving Harry any heirs any time soon.

_That’s fine with me,_ Harry thought. Ginny smiled.

The door to the office opened again and Wimbleton stuck his head in. “Erm, if you would p-p-please w-wait for just one more m-minute?” he said with a smile that was more worry than reassuring. “I’ll be right b-back.” He pulled away, closing the door sharply again. Ginny frowned, wondering what the matter was with him.

Dumbledore let out a soft _hmm_ , but said nothing. They waited, each focusing on their own thoughts. A minute passed, and then two. 

The door opened once more and Wimbleton stepped inside. “Erm, Professor?”

“Yes?”

“I, erm, I b-b-bring bad n-news.”

Ginny’s stomach lurched. Was Harry not allowed to get married? Was he too young? She prayed that it wasn’t that he was part of an arranged marriage to some other girl. He was from a high class family; it was possible his parents or grandparents set up an arranged marriage long ago. She hoped it wasn’t that.

“What’s the matter?” Gram asked him.

“Well, erm, Mr. P-p-Potter can’t m-marry…”

“Why not?” Sirius said roughly. “He is the last of the Potters, whatever the current age is he can change it!”

“N-no, no, he’s old enough…”

“Spit it out!” Sirius snapped.

“Mr. Potter cannot get married because he is already married,” Wimbleton said very quickly in a meek voice.

Ginny’s jaw dropped. The entire room was silent, all of them staring, horrified, at the Head of the Marriage Office.

“Already…” Ginny’s mother breathed. “Already married… To who?”

Wimbleton seemed to have lost his voice as he struggled to form words. Her mother’s, however, was present and angry. “To who?!”

“T-to-to –” Wimbleton stammered. “To a m-m-m-miss –”

“Miss Who?” Gram demanded.

“G-g-g-Ginerva W-whu-Weasley!” 

 

_A/N: Ba-dum tss! Have a lovely day, my dears._


	31. Old Laws and New Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Thirty-One  
Old Laws and New Rings  
Harry**

His mind was blank, eyes wide, mouth open, staring at the mousy man standing before them. He could hardly hear Wimbleton begin stammering about how he was sorry; those last words kept repeating in his head…

_“Mr. Potter is already married! … To Ginerva Weasley!”_

_We’re already married???_

Slowly, his head turned; their eyes met and he saw that her mouth was open too.

“We’re **already** married?” they said aloud.

Wimbleton froze. “Wha-what?” He looked between the two of them and Dumbledore until the older wizard finally spoke.

“This young woman is Ginerva Weasley,” he murmured. Wimbleton whispered a soft oh and patted his bald spot with his handkerchief.

“Well, I – I d-don’t – I don’t know w-why you were n-never informed,” he said, his voice still rushing. “The record was m-made automatically when their b-bond was detected by our equipment in nine-1991; I wasn’t Head then, I assure you, I ha-have my people check the b-books more regularly now, I su-suppose it slipped through without anyone n-noticing –”

“Bond?” Dumbledore interrupted the man’s stammers. 

“Er, yes, it was a soul b-bond,” Wimbleton replied. “Soul b-bonds are auto-m-matically entered as bi-binding m-marriages…” he trailed off. 

Harry and Ginny met bewildered gazes again. _We’ve been married since we were eleven???_

“When in 1991?” Dumbledore demanded.

“I, well, the re-record was d-dated July, July 17th.”

“I was ten!” Harry burst out. “I wasn’t even eleven then!”

“I married a ten year old?” Ginny muttered. “At the age of eleven?”

Wimbleton patted his bald spot again. “Again, I wasn’t the Head b-back then, I only g-got the job this year w-when the previous Head retired; had I known I w-would have had someone s-send you a notice on m-Miss Weasley’s fourteenth b-birthday to t-tell you she wasn’t eligible for m-marriage…”

“You’re saying that my daughter has been married for four years now?” Mr. Weasley asked. Wimbleton gave a weak nod.

“This certainly changes things…” Harry heard Remus mutter.

“You say that the record was made automatically by equipment that detected their soul bond?” Dumbledore said.

“Erm, yes, there’s a b-book that is enchanted t-to detect all legal marriages as they’re performed, a soul b-bond is included.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius said.

“Er, well, it’s an old law,” Wimbleton began. It was certainly a day for old laws, Harry thought. “Very, very old; any soul bond, when it’s created, is deemed grounds for marriages. Erm, I actually have a c-copy of that law, one m-moment…”

The mousy man moved to a nearby filing cabinet and started riffling through its drawers. A moment later, he withdrew a thick parchment. He held it out to them, and Sirius took it.

“‘By the decree of Her Lordship Minister for Magic Josephina Flint, any and all registered bonded men and women, past, present, and future, are hereby declared married to each other. For any man and woman who have found that their souls are closely bonded, whether by the act of man or providence, they may consider their marriage legal and binding the instant their bonding has taken place…There may be no loophole or option that prevents a closely bonded pair from their legal marriage. No man or woman may be allowed to prevent a closely bonded pair from receiving their marriage license, and no man or woman may attempt to break a bonded marriage… If one or both of a closely bonded pair are under the age of the 17 at the time of their bonding, the underage person or persons will be immediately emancipated and both shall be considered adults under the eyes of the law. From here on, all strong bonds shall be automatically recorded by the Ministry the moment the members first touch and their marriage shall be recorded…’”

Sirius’s eyes lifted off the paper to look at the two of them. No one spoke for what felt like years, but was probably closer to a few seconds, then:

“Guess you don’t need a guardian’s signature to get into Hogsmeade now, huh?” Sirius mused.

“Sirius!” Remus reprimanded, but his voice was half-hearted in its scolding. 

“Erm, well, I ought to g-go fetch their doc-docum-mentation,” Wimbleton said quietly. He took the parchment from Sirius and put it back in the filing cabinet. The man turned, his head bowed, and left the room.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, his teacher was staring into space, his brow furrowed. He tried to catch his grandmother’s eye, but she too had a distant gaze. Even Ginny’s parents were silent and unaware of his looking at them. He looked to Sirius, his godfather was watching him with still wide eyes.

“What does it mean to be emancipated?” he asked.

The adults in the room seemed to come to their senses. “It means that you’re legally adults,” Remus said. 

“You mean we haven’t got the Trace?” Ginny spoke.

“It is likely,” Dumbledore replied. “It should have been removed when the bond was detected and your emancipation took place.”

“How could they be emancipated and have the Trace removed without anyone knowing?” Arthur asked.

“The key part of emancipation in the Wizarding World is that the Trace is broken,” Dumbledore answered. “During the late 19th century and early 20th, it was common for the eldest child of a family to be emancipated at the age of fifteen rather than waiting until seventeen. I suppose the record keeping is an automatic process by now.”

“It seems many things are automatic,” Gram said, her voice containing a hint of anger.

“With magic, the need for human interaction in these things is little,” the Headmaster replied. Before he could continue, the door opened once more and Wimbleton entered, clutching a thin file folder.

“H-here is all of the p-papers required,” he said softly. “Proof of their emancip-pation and the Trace b-being removed, the m-marriage license, and the r-record of their soul b-bond.” He handed it to Dumbledore, who glanced over the contents before handing it to Ginny’s father. Wimbleton withdrew his handkerchief and patted his forehead once more before speaking again. “W-well, I d-don’t believe there is anything m-more I can do for you.”

“No, there isn’t,” Dumbledore said with a soft sigh. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Wimbleton.” He stepped to the door, then beckoned for them to follow. The Headmaster led them from the Marriage Office, back to the lifts, then through the Atrium and to the fires. They walked in silence, took the Floo in silence, and filled Dumbledore’s office again in silence, her father dropping the file folder onto Dumbledore’s desk. The Headmaster stepped behind his desk and looked around at them.

“That was enlightening,” he said.

“They’re already married!” Mrs. Weasley burst out.

“For four years,” Gram added. 

“And no one knew!” Sirius said.

“What should we do about it?” Mrs. Weasley continued. “What can we do?”

“The fact that all of this was some automatic process is highly irresponsible,” said Harry’s grandmother. “What if there are other people like Harry and Ginny who have been emancipated and married without anyone knowing?”

“Mrs. Evans, please calm yourself. The likelihood of others who are bonded the way Harry and Ginny are is very low,” Dumbledore said. He was looking at one of the papers they’d been given. “Soul bonds to begin with are rare, and the majority of them are the barest of connections, not strong enough for the magic that records them to detect.”

“How can you know?” she asked. “Did you know already?”

“There’s a copy of the law here,” Dumbledore answered, looking up at her, then back to the paper. “‘Soul bonds that are not strong enough to be detected by the magics in place to record them shall be exempted in the case that it is not a bond destined for marriage. Despite their rarity, only the strongest of bonds shall be included in this law.’”

Harry’s grandmother seemed to deflate. She shook her head and dropped into one of the purple armchairs. “Wizards,” she said in a small whisper.

Dumbledore shrugged his shoulders and dropped the parchment onto the desk. He lowered himself into his chair and looked over at them. “Shall I begin addressing the two of you as Mr. and Mrs. Potter?” he asked them, a slight smile curling his lips.

Harry blushed, but he couldn’t hold back the grin. Ginny buried her face in his shoulder to hide her own blush, which meant that neither of them answered, but Dumbledore simply chuckled. The professor drew his wand, then with a tap on each paper, conjured copies of the parchments. He held out the two sets of copies, Dad took them and gave one to Harry’s grandmother.

“I must keep the originals in order to obtain the Board of Governors permission to give the Potters private quarters,” the Headmaster told them. “But for now, I believe that you should take Harry and Ginny home so they may let this sink in.”

The adults all looked at them, at Ginny’s face still hidden in Harry’s jacket, at the blush that was refusing to leave Harry’s cheeks, and at his stupid grin. Harry immediately blushed more and tried to tone down his goofy smile, however the adults were already shaking their heads and smiling. 

“We’ll do just that,” Mr. Weasley said.

So they let themselves be ushered into the Floo; Ginny went before he did, and when he arrived she was waiting for him. He opened his arms and she stepped into him, her hands resting on his chest. They shuffled awkwardly out of the way as Remus exited the Floo after him, then dropped onto a couch. Harry hadn’t paid attention as he copied Ginny’s words, but he now saw that they were at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley had already entered the kitchen, and her husband was right behind her. Harry’s grandmother, godfather and Remus followed Ginny’s parents into the kitchen, leaving them alone.

_Should I call you my wife now?_ He thought.

_Probably._

Harry looked down at her, thinking over the word. Wife. It was such a weird word. Who was it that decided the letters w-i-f-e would mean a life partner, a lover, a married woman? Wife… he liked that word.

_I can call you husband now._

Harry, whose blush was just fading, turned pink. He liked that word too. He couldn’t help another grin from forming as he pulled her closer to him. She pulled her legs up onto the couch, practically laying on him now. He kissed the top of her head. Wife. 

_I’ll have to get you a ring,_ he thought.

_Wedding or engagement?_

_Both, I suppose. What kind of ring do you want?_

_I’ve no clue, I’ve only ever looked at my mum’s engagement ring._

_Girls are supposed to fantasize about this stuff!_

_Yeah, when we’re four._

Harry sighed. “I’ll just pick whatever’s fanciest.”

“I don’t want a fancy one!” she protested.

“See, you do know what kind you want.”

Ginny stuck her nose in the air. “I know what I don’t want.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“What about diamonds?”

“You’re supposed to use diamonds.”

“You are?”

“I’m pretty sure. You can add other stones, but I think you have to have a diamond in it.”

“All right, well what stone do you want?”

She shrugged. “What’s my birthstone?”

“Emeralds.”

Ginny smiled. “The color of your eyes,” she murmured. Harry slipped into her mind’s eye and saw what she saw; he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, his eyes were bright green but they didn’t look like emeralds.

Ginny bopped him on the nose. “They’re emeralds and you will believe me.”

Harry rubbed at his nose with a mock scowl. “Fine. Then your hair is rubies and gold and you will believe me.”

“Wait, aren’t rubies your birthstone?”

Harry dropped his hand. “I think so.”

She grinned. “So your eyes are like my birthstone and my hair is like yours.”

Harry pondered this. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then we should get rubies and emeralds.”

“Wouldn’t that clash? Or look like Christmas?”

Ginny shrugged. “I like Christmas.”

Before he could reply, there were footsteps bounding down the stairs and Ron appeared in the sitting room. “Hi guys,” he said. “How’d it go?”

Harry immediately turned red like the rubies they had been discussing. Ron, his best mate, was technically also his brother in law. He groaned and flopped his head back; he grabbed Ginny’s arm and tried to cover his face with it. She jerked it away and whacked him in the ribs. Ron looked between them, sighed, then turned around and went back upstairs. Harry picked his head up, then laughed. 

“I think we finally got too weird for him,” Ginny said.

“He’s my brother in law,” Harry said, his voice half laughing and half confused. Ginny looked at him, then sat up.

“I think you might finally get too weird for me,” she said. 

Harry pouted at her, then he grabbed her round the middle and tugged her to him; she squealed as he locked his arms around her. 

“Too bad, because I’m never letting go of you,” he said, squeezing his arms to prove it. _Wife._ Ginny turned pink, but she relaxed against his chest.

They stayed at the Burrow that night, because they had been at Gram’s farm the night before. Remus and Sirius stayed for dinner, but Gram went home to eat with Aunt Petunia and give her the news. Ginny’s parents didn’t get around to telling her brothers that Ginny and Harry had been married since the day they had met in that greasy family dinner in the village, and the two of them went to bed feeling twice as awkward as they had the first night they spent together. 

August was rushed. What with the time they spent training, telling Fred and George to stop singing the Wedding March every time they entered a room, avoiding every newspaper that even mentioned the many and dubious reasons Harry could have had for marrying Ginny, and packing and repacking their things, they had little time to really stop and think about what it felt like to be married. Before they knew it, it was the last Sunday of August and they had to go to Diagon Alley to get their new school supplies. Their booklists had come the week before, later than normal. To the surprise of everyone, Ron had received a prefect's badge with his, leaving his parents oozing his praise. When they left for school shopping, Mrs. Weasley promised him a gift at the end of the day as reward. However, with all the people around them, it was a wonder they even managed to get into many of the shops. They split up in order to get as much done as quickly as possible, meaning that Ron, Fred, and George spent the day in Quality Quidditch Supplies while their mother bought their things. Ginny had entered an art supply store, tailed by Hermione, who had met them that morning in the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry went to get their books.

One of the upsides of being Ginny’s husband, Harry found, was that he could insist upon paying for Ginny’s new things without her parents being able to politely refuse, leaving the Weasleys with extra pocket money. Another was that when he suggested buying some of everyone else’s things, he could play the family card.

“Just let me get Ron a new cauldron,” he asked her mother. 

“Harry, please, you’ve done enough. You already bought his books, and Fred and George’s.”

“But I want to help my in-law's,” he said. Mrs. Weasley, who kept telling him to call her Molly, looked at him like he was the sweetest thing ever, which was what he was going for.

_Kiss-up._

_Keep talking, Potter, and I’ll not kiss you for the rest of the day._

_Just admit defeat, Potter._

_Never, Potter._

Mrs. Weasley looked down at Ron’s school list. “All right, go on. But that is all, you’ve done enough for us, Harry.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Call me Molly!”

_Thank you, though, Harry. You really are very sweet._

_I want to help you guys._

_I’m part of you guys now, not them guys._

_That makes no sense, yet I understand._

_Just pay before the cashier thinks you’re insane._

Harry obeyed his wife – how he loved that word – and paid for the cauldron. He’d already bought all of his and Ginny’s supplies, including a new cauldron for her, so this would be the last of the school things he needed to buy. 

_Harry, would you be a dear and come and buy this paint set for me?_

_What do you need a paint set for?_

_To paint with, idiot._

Harry rolled his eyes as he carried the cauldron over to the tote bag he’d left with Mrs. Weasley. He set it in the mouth of the bag, and the Undetectable Expansion Charm that Remus had put on it swallowed the cauldron. He picked the bag up and, waving to his mother-in-law, left the shop to enter the busy road to find the art store. Before entering the crowd, he pulled the baseball cap he wore down lower on his forehead to hide the scar. So far, his simple but clever disguise had kept him just inconspicuous enough for no one to care. Spotting the store he was looking for, he stepped inside and glanced around for his wife. 

_You are infatuated with that word,_ Ginny thought, but she was smiling.

Harry spotted her, then walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, giving her cheek a kiss. “I’m infatuated with what it means,” he corrected.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, but leaned back to kiss his mouth. 

“You two are gross,” Hermione called.

“You only say that because you’re jealous,” Ginny sniffed. “Love, which set should I get?”

Harry looked down at the two cases of colored tubes she was pointing to. "I don't see what the difference is."

"Well, this one has cadmium red and this one has scarlet."

"What's cadmium?"

She pointed to the tube of bright red paint in the left case. "That's cadmium."

"It's just bright red."

"No, this one over here is bright red. That's cadmium."

Harry shook his head. "I am useless in this endeavor."

Ginny let out a snort. "Of course you are. I'll get the cadmium." She picked up the case and set it in the basket at the floor at her feet, which held more things; colored pencils, a case of graphite pencils, a box of charcoal, a jar of linseed oil – which he had no clue what that even was for –, sketch books, canvas boards, and several brushes. He peered into it as she picked it up and raised an eyebrow.

"There is more than paint in here."

"Yes…"

"I'm buying all of it?"

"We share everything, love."

"Does that mean I can use your fancy cadmium red paint?"

Ginny acted as if she was thinking about it. "No."

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't mind, he was only teasing her. She could have bought the whole store and he wouldn't have minded.

"No, I don't like water color," Ginny said in reply to his thought. He smiled.

"Harry, if you're going to buy her all of that, would you buy me these inks?" Hermione asked.

"I'm paying for her stuff for a reason and you know it," Harry said. Hermione laughed, then began to hum the Wedding March. Harry shook his head at her. When they had told her that morning that they were married, their bookish friend hadn't seemed surprised, simply pleased, as if she had been the one to push them together in the first place. 

Ginny coiled her arm through his. "When we're done here, do you want to go look at rings?" she asked him in a soft voice.

Harry nodded. They'd already decided to get wedding rings despite not yet having had a wedding; most of Hogwarts and the magical population of Britain would already know about their marriage thanks to an article in the Daily Prophet that had run four times since the second weekend of August and the newspaper’s discovery of their marriage. According to the article, Harry and Ginny had gone in with Sirius and Ginny's parents for a marriage license and had been granted it. There had been not even speculation alluding to the truth that they had already had one, and most theories concerning the reason why were that Ginny was pregnant. She wasn't, of course, and it would be obvious in the next few months when she failed to show a baby bump, but it didn't bother them. No one had approached them about the subject except for an O.W.L. from the Daily Prophet asking if they wanted to put an announcement about the marriage in the paper, which they'd ignored. Neither of them cared for the publicity.

Ginny was soon finished browsing, and he paid for what she'd picked out. He did end up buying Hermione the inks she'd held up, but only because her birthday was soon. After they left the shop, the three of them moved back up the street to the more grand of the three jewelry stores in the Alley, Aubrey and Sons. Hermione followed them merely because she had already finished her shopping, and because she claimed she wanted to see which rings they picked out. 

When Harry pushed open the door to the shop, a musical note rang out rather than the usual bell. A man in dark blue robes looked up at the sound, and he raised an eyebrow at the sight of three teenagers in his shop.

"May I help you?" he asked, his voice polite.

"We're looking for rings," Harry said.

The man's eyebrow drifted further toward his hairline. "What kind of rings?"

"An engagement ring and a set of wedding rings," he replied. Then he took off his hat. The man's eyes caught the movement, and then the scar on Harry's forehead. The other eyebrow shot up.

"Oh, I see," the wizard gave him a polite bow. "I am Tobias Aubrey, my family owns this shop. I can assure you that we have a strict confidentiality policy, Mr. Potter, so you may be sure we shan't divulge your choices to the nearest reporter."

"Great!" Harry said. He actually hadn't thought that. Aubrey looked to Ginny, then at Hermione.

"Which of these lovely ladies is your bride?"

Hermione sidestepped away. Harry pointed to Ginny. Aubrey gave her a once over, then moved behind a glass cabinet and beckoned them forward.

"For the engagement ring, might I recommend a princess cut," he said. 

Harry leaned on the edge of the counter and looked down at the rings. They were all diamond, and only a few had any other colors, namely a row that had diamonds and a pale blue stone.

"Do you have anything that has emeralds?" he asked.

Aubrey nodded, stepping to his left. Harry followed him. "We have a few diamond and emerald combinations, namely in silver."

"I like gold."

Aubrey tapped the back of the case with his wand, and a lock clicked. He opened it, reached inside, and lifted a tray which he set on the top of the glass.

"We have two gold and emerald rings, one with diamonds and one without, both 18 carat gold."

Harry studied them. The ring without diamonds had just one stone, a square emerald with a vine like coil of gold around it. The other had a rounder stone, flanked by two small diamonds. 

_Which one do you like better?_ Harry asked his wife. She leaned against his shoulder, examining them.

_I think the one with diamonds._

_See, diamonds are a girl's best friend._

_Shut it, you._

"Can we see the one with diamonds?" Harry asked. Aubrey nodded and plucked the emerald and diamond ring from the case. 

"Your hand, ma'am?" he said.

Ginny, slightly pink, held up her left hand. Aubrey pushed the ring onto her finger and clasped his hands together upon the glass.

"What do you think?" Harry asked her.

"It's a bit loose," she said.

"I can resize it," Aubrey told them.

Ginny held her hand in front of her face, then set it down and slipped the ring off. "I like this one."

Harry smiled slightly. "Then we'll take that one."

"Of course, sir. Ma'am, might I measure your finger?"

Ginny held her hand back out. Aubrey tapped her ring finger with his wand, then set the ring on the glass and began to whisper spells under his breath. Blue light pulsed over the ring, then white light, and the band of it shrank slightly. He twirled his wand and a velvet box appeared, in which he placed the ring before handing it to Harry.

"I have placed a self-cleaning charm and an anti-theft charm upon the ring, which is included in the cost of it," he told them. "After you have selected your wedding rings, I'll tell you about the other spells we offer for additional cost."

"Thank you," Ginny said. Aubrey gave a slight nod, then replaced the tray and locked the case. 

"This way, please," he said, going farther to his left. Harry glanced around to see Hermione looking at another case across the room. He turned back to listen to Aubrey.

The jeweler unlocked the case and removed a tray containing gold bands. "These are all 18 carat gold except for the row in the back which is 14."

Harry bent down to look. _What do you want?_

Ginny leaned her elbow on the edge of the glass, looking over the rings. _Something that's got a design on it._

_There are Celtic knots here._

Ginny followed his gaze, to five different sets that had different arrangements of Celtic knots. One set had a small diamond set in the middle of the largest knot, another had knots made of a leafy vine, another was silver rather than gold.

_Not the one with diamonds,_ she thought. 

_Not silver either, it has to match your engagement ring._

"What about one of these two?" she spoke aloud, pointing to the leafy knots and its neighbor which had a flower at the crest of the ring laying over the Celtic knots.

Harry plucked the thicker of the two vine knot rings and examined it. "I'm not very flowery," he said. Then he looked up at Aubrey; "Could I try it on?"

"Of course."

Harry pushed it onto his finger, then he took the other one and put it on Ginny's ring finger. She caught his eye and smiled. 

"I like these," he said. 

"Then let's get these," she replied.

Harry pulled the ring off and set it on the counter; Ginny did the same. 

"How was the fit?"

"Er, I don't know how rings are supposed to fit."

Aubrey gestured for him to hold out his hand; he did, and the jeweler tapped his finger.

"It's the right size," Aubrey told him. "Now, we offer a range of charms in addition to the self-cleaning and anti-theft."

"Do you have any that would make them resistant to spell damage?" Harry asked.

Aubrey seemed startled for a moment, but he quickly covered it and nodded. "We do. One to protect against the stray spell that might strike them, as well as one we offer to duelers –"

"The one for duelers," Harry interrupted. "We'll need that one."

"Very well. There is also a charm to protect against fire damage, water damage, a charm to make your ring self-adjusting so it won't ever get to tight or too loose."

"Go ahead and put those on too," Harry said.

"Sir, I haven't even given you the additional prices."

"Oh, it's fine. I, uh, I have enough."

Aubrey, to his credit, did not act either curious at his mention of gold or surprised that he had it. He held out his hand for the velvet box, which Harry gave to him, and the jeweler removed the ring to add the extra charms.

"There are two other charms," he said. "Would you like to hear them?"

"Sure," Harry replied.

"We offer a charm to repel soil and similar substances, a favorite amongst Herbologists, and a charm to prevent snagging on clothing." 

"I suppose the one to keep it from snagging would be good for your engagement ring," Harry said to Ginny, who nodded. He turned back to Aubrey. "Go ahead and put all of those on them except the snagging one, just put that on her engagement ring."

Aubrey nodded. "Of course, sir." He replaced the tray of rings back in the case, then began to place the various charms upon the rings. When he was finished, he put each ring in its own velvet box and moved to a till. He entered the price of the rings and the charms, then rang it up.

"894 Galleons and 15 Sickles," he said. Harry pulled a fat bag of coins from his pocket inside his jacket and set it on the counter. Aubrey's eyes widened for only a moment, then he took the bag and placed it on a scale, then took out another bag which he took a few from, then put it on the scale. He began taking from Harry's bag, passing the extra coins back to Harry.

"And fifteen Sickles, sir," Aubrey said, turning back to him. Harry fished some more coins from his pocket, and Aubrey took them.

"Thank you very much sir," Aubrey said, bowing to them again. "And congratulations."

"Thank you," Harry replied. He took the three boxes from the counter and tucked them into his pocket. They would put on their rings later.

"Ready, Hermione?" he asked their friend. She started, then turned slightly pink and stepped away from a case of necklaces.

"Yes, of course," she said. She moved over to Ginny and slipped an arm through hers. "What did you get?"

Ginny reached into Harry's pocket and took out a box. She cracked it open to show her the ring inside. Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione oohed over it.

"Lucky," Hermione told her.

"We're fifteen," Ginny said as Harry pushed open the door. "We're weird."

"Still," Hermione said. "Those stones are huge."

Ginny shrugged as she put the box back in Harry's pocket. "It doesn't matter to me what size they are," she said. Harry grinned at her and pressed a kiss to her hair.

Hermione faked a gag. "You two are still gross."

"I thought we were lucky!" Harry asked with a laugh. He stepped out of the way of a larger group of people going past them.

Their friend shook her head, following them to the edge of the road. "Also gross."

Harry stuck his tongue out at her, but Hermione just laughed. Harry looked around, wondering where they should go next. 

"I'm hungry," Ginny announced.

"Ice cream?" he suggested.

"If you're buying," Hermione replied. "I already used up my pocket money for today."

"'Course I am," Harry said. "I'm generous."

They entered Florean Fortiscue's and joined the queue. The owner, Fortiscue, waved to them from behind the ice cream counter. Harry waved back. He was a regular to the shop during the summer, which had led to a fondness on both his and Fortiscue's part for the other.

After getting their ice cream, chocolate fudge for Ginny, mint chocolate for Hermione, and cheesecake for Harry, they took seats on the patio in front of the store. Harry dipped his spoon into Ginny's chocolate fudge, then combined it with his own cheesecake and pushed it into his mouth. Hermione rolled her eyes at them.

"So, what did you spend all of your pocket money on?" Harry asked her.

"Well, school things first," she answered. "I stopped at a Muggle store and indulged in some highlighters and pens."

"You spent all of your money on pens?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"Not all of it," Hermione corrected. "I did buy index cards to make into flash cards. It's O.W.L. year this year!"

Harry laughed again. "Did you buy anything that wasn't school related?"

"I had to get some new clothes," Hermione answered. "My parents gave me extra for that though."

"What about something fun?" he asked.

For some reason, her cheeks tinged pink, but she smiled. She leaned closer to Ginny and whispered in her ear, which made Ginny giggle. Harry, being mentally connected to his wife, heard what Hermione had said, which caused him to turn pink. 

"Fancy bras don't count as fun," Harry told her.

Hermione only laughed. "Of course they do." Then she nudged Ginny. "I could show you where I got them if you wanted," she added with a smirk, causing Ginny to blush to match Harry.

"No, thanks," Ginny said. "Not quite yet."

Hermione shrugged. "If you say so."

Harry decided to eat his ice cream without asking Hermione anything else. He leaned forward slightly, at which Ginny laughed.

"What?" Hermione asked. Ginny shook her head, but patted Harry's shoulder. 

"Anyway, how was the rest of your summer?" Ginny asked. 

"It was lovely," Hermione replied. "My parents and I went to America for three weeks just after school."

"Really? Where did you go, and what's America like?"

"We went to New York, it was very loud," Hermione replied. "The city itself was like London, but the people were all so – so bold."

"It was probably the freedom in their hearts," Harry quipped. Hermione laughed.

"Yes, I'm sure that was it," she answered him. "We went to Broadway and saw a musical called How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying."

"Sounds fantastic," Harry said through a mouthful of cheesecake ice cream.

"It was quite funny," Hermione said, a reflective smile upon her lips. "You would have liked it!"

“I’m sure,” Harry said, not actually meaning it. Musicals weren’t really his thing.

"What else did you do?" Ginny asked.

"We went to Elis Island, to the Empire State Building, we got to go inside the Statue of Liberty," she recounted.

"Did you feel the liberty in the air?" Harry asked her, in a mock-breathless voice. “Was the freedom so profound that you had to stop and breathe it in?”

"Stop it, Harry, America doesn't ooze freedom," Hermione said with a laugh. 

"Oh, say can you see!" Harry began to sing off-key; he clapped his hands to his heart and stared off into the distance dramatically. "By the dawn's early light!"

"If you keep making fun of America, they'll invade England," Hermione told him in a sarcastic tone.

"I don't remember the next line!" he kept singing. “Something about a flag!”

"Shut up, Harry," Ginny laughed, elbowing him in the ribs, "I want to hear about Hermione's holiday!"

"I'll shut up if you kiss me," he said, grinning at her.

"Never," she mocked. "Not while you're acting like an idiot."

Harry pouted and dropped his head onto her shoulder. "Meanie," he muttered.

"What else did you do?" Ginny asked, ignoring her put out husband.

"We went to a fair," Hermione said. "And a beach. And a concert."

"What concert?" Harry asked. "Did they sing America the Beautiful?"

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione said, but she was still laughing. "It was the Eagles.”

“Really? Aren’t they a little rock and roll for your tastes?” Harry commented.

“It was me and my dad, he loves the Eagles.”

“Why would you see a band named after a bird?” Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head at them. "What did you do for your holiday?" she asked.

"We added onto my room," Ginny said. "Harry and I are living together now."

"Of course you are," Hermione replied as if this was old news. "Was that all?"

"We repainted our rooms," Harry said. "Apparently beige is boring."

"It is," Hermione agreed. Harry huffed.

"We actually haven't done a lot of holiday things," Ginny said. "We've been working a lot."

"On what?"

"Dueling skills for the most part," Harry answered. "We're being trained by Tonks, Sirius's cousin. She's an Auror."

"Really?" Hermione said. "Because of – of You-Know-Who?" she asked this in a softer voice, as if worried someone might hear.

"Yeah. Dumbledore's actually going to have you and Ron join in for some of the training."

"That's probably a good idea," Hermione said. "If something happened, we'd be able to help protect you."

"Dumbledore's logic was more protect yourselves, but yeah, something like that."

Hermione was now quiet. She reached across the table and touched Harry's hand. "We'd do anything to help you, you know that right?"

Harry gave her a warm, grateful smile. "Thanks, Hermione."

She smiled and withdrew her hand. They were quiet a moment, then: "So, what else is new with you?" Hermione asked.

"Other than a marriage license that's four years old, nothing," Ginny said. 

"That can't be it."

"We haven't done anything this summer," Harry said. "We stayed quiet."

Hermione shrugged. "If you say so."

Ginny rolled her eyes and finished the last of her ice cream. "We probably ought to go find my parents."

Hermione nodded. "I ought to call my mum and dad. They wanted to get dinner while we were in the city."

Harry scraped his bowl with his spoon, then took Ginny's empty one and stood up. Hermione handed him her bowl as well, and he took them to a dish bin by the door. He joined them again, and after collecting their things, they left the patio and traveled down Main Street to find the rest of their group. Harry spotted Ginny's brothers still in Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Mr. Weasley looking at a rack of discount books outside Flourish and Blotts. He waved to his father-in-law, who waved back.

"Molly's just inside," he said. "Got everything you need?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. "See anything you like?"

Mr. Weasley looked back at the books. "Oh, no, I was just looking. Do you know where the boys are?"

"Quality Quidditch Supplies," Ginny said. "Ogling the brooms."

"Oh, of course. Would you go and ask your mother if she's ready to go?"

"Sure, Dad," Ginny replied. She stepped inside the shop, leaving Harry and Hermione with her father.

"How was your summer, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Oh, lovely, thank you. How was yours?"

"Wonderful," Mr. Weasley answered. "Ron's prefect, you know."

"Yes, he told me. I'm prefect as well."

"Really? Congratulations!"

Hermione nodded with a grin. "My parents were quite pleased. Prefect is something they understand."

Mr. Weasley nodded, the conversation lulling again. Then Ginny and Mrs. Weasley left the shop, Mrs. Weasley carrying shopping bags.

"Hello, Hermione," said Ginny's mother. "Shall we go and fetch the boys?" she said to her husband.

"They're in the Quidditch shop."

"Yes, Ginny told me."

Mr. Weasley took some of his wife's bags and began to cross the street. Harry and the others followed him into Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Hi, Dad!" Ron called. "You guys done?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley answered. Mrs. Weasley stepped forward, looking at the display of brooms Fred and George were standing by.

"Well, Ron, what did you decide on?" she asked.

"Oh, right, erm, could I get the new Cleansweep?"

Mrs. Weasley looked around, until Ron pointed it out. She thought for a moment, then nodded. "We can do that," she replied. 

"If we'd have known we'd get new brooms, we'd have tried to be Prefects too!" George said, a small note of jealousy in his voice.

"You ought to have tried anyway," Mrs. Weasley scolded. Ginny rolled her eyes at the exchange.

"I want a new broom," Ginny said to Harry as her parents and brothers left to go buy Ron's broom. 

"Wait until Christmas," he said, "or I'll run out of things to get you since you keep buying things."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "If I recall correctly, you bought all of those things."

"Well, of course I did, but you asked for it."

"Because I've got you to pay for it!" she laughed.

Harry stuck his tongue out at her. She pushed it back into his mouth. He caught her hand before she could pull it away and kissed her fingers, making her smile.

"I'm glad that I can buy you things," he said. "I like giving you stuff."

She went pink, but smiled wider. "Thank you, love."

"You're welcome."

"You two are so gross," Hermione sighed. Ginny stuck her tongue out at her.

They left Diagon Alley perhaps twenty minutes later and had dinner in the Leaky Cauldron. They said goodbye to Hermione first, who went with her parents to have dinner in Muggle London. Harry debated with Ginny whether or not he would be able to get away with paying for dinner, but Ginny reminded him that after the amount of things he'd already paid for, her parents were almost guaranteed to refuse.

When they returned to the Burrow, Ginny's parents went straight to bed, leaving their children to their own devices. Ron left to try out his new broom, and Fred and George shut themselves in their own room to plot about their joke-shop. Percy was still at work, and Harry and Ginny would be staying at the Burrow that night. The house was quiet but for the muffled sounds of something exploding in Fred and George’s room.

"Let's just go upstairs," Ginny said. "It's almost nine anyway."

He followed her; in her room he dumped the tote bag full of their things onto the floor. He pulled from his pocket the three velvet boxes. Ginny had dropped onto her bed, and started to take out the things she'd gotten at the art store, but stopped when he took out the ring boxes.

Harry, feeling only a little bit foolish and a lot giddy, dropped onto one knee and opened the box containing her engagement ring. "Marry me, Ginny?" he said.

Ginny let out a laugh. "I already did, silly."

"Marry me again?"

Ginny leaned down and kissed him. "Sure," she said. Harry took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She shivered.

"Your turn," she murmured. He set the other two boxes on the bed, and she found his wedding ring. She took his hand, then slid the ring onto his hand.

"I like rings," Harry said.

Ginny smiled. "Good." He took the second wedding ring and put it on her finger with her engagement ring.

"I think the wedding ring is supposed to be on the inside," Ginny said.

"Is it?"

"That's how Mum wears it."

Harry switched the rings. "There. Happy?"

Ginny kissed him again. "Immensely." 

Harry took the boxes and put them on her desk, then he sat down beside her. She put her arms around him and pressed her lips against his.

"Mine," she murmured. He chuckled.

"Yours indeed."

They went to bed early that night, but stayed awake long after they'd put the light out. The moonlight that came through the curtains of her room made the diamonds and emerald in Ginny's ring sparkle, and Harry was mesmerized by it.

The last week of August was spent half in the Room of Requirement and half with their families. They clung to their last few minutes before school, but it was over quickly. September was soon upon them.

 

_A/N: For those of you who don't know, Daniel Radcliffe starred in a 2011 production of How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying – I went to see it with my mother, and it was incredible; I was really lucky to get to see it – If you laughed when Hermione mentioned going to Broadway, high fives. Ah, memories…_


	32. A Skeleton That Could Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

 

**Chapter Thirty-Two  
A Skeleton That Could Walk  
Harry**

The sound of their alarm was the first thing he heard on the first of September, and it was just as annoying as every other morning. Harry rolled onto his back and slapped at the clock on his night-table until the piercing beeping was silenced. He rubbed at his eyes, then turned back and pulled Ginny closer to him.

The beeping started again.

"Shut up!" Harry moaned, sitting up and slapping the alarm. He couldn't see where the dismiss button was, so he shoved his glasses on and squinted at it. Finding the correct button, he stabbed it with a finger and it stopped. Then he flopped back onto the bed and hugged his wife to him.

"I heard the alarm," she muttered.

"Shush," he said. "It's only six."

"We have to drive to King's Cross."

"Shush… I want to hold my wife."

Ginny giggled. "We've got to get up!"

Harry kissed her instead. Then he took her hand and kissed the rings on her finger. "I don't want to get up," he said.

Ginny shook her head at him, then squirmed out of his grip and sat up. She stretched, and her tee shirt rode up to expose the small of her back. Harry wanted to reach out and pull her back, but she got up before he could.

"Do you want to shower first or shall I?" she asked.

"You go first," he answered. "I've got to pack more than you do."

Ginny nodded, then she grabbed the stack of clothes she'd set out the night before and entered the bathroom. Harry got out of the bed and stretched his arms above his head. From her perch by his desk, Hedwig trilled a note as if to tell him to hurry up. He sleepily stroked her feathers before going to pack. His trunk was sitting next to Ginny's; they'd brought his things from her house back to his the day before. Ginny had packed everything from her room already and practically everything from this room as well, excepting the things she had to use in the morning. While he wasn't finished, he only had a few things left.

Ginny was out of the shower after only fifteen minutes or so. She'd taken her things out of the bathroom and was putting them in her trunk when Harry went in. He took less time than she did, but paused to shave before leaving the bathroom.

When they'd packed, they left the room to go downstairs for breakfast. After breakfast they would pack up his grandmother's van and drive to the Burrow to meet the Weasleys before driving up to King's Cross.

"Good morning," Gram said as they entered the kitchen. "Bacon and eggs and coffee are on the table."

Harry dropped down across from Dudley, who grunted in greeting. Ginny took a seat next to him and poured herself coffee. Gram set a plate of toast and a jar of her homemade strawberry jam on the table and took her own seat.

"Have a good night's rest?" Gram asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"No odd dreams?"

"Not tonight."

"Very good. Dudley, pass over the eggs, won't you dear."

His cousin handed a bowl of scrambled eggs to their grandmother, then went back to shoveling his own breakfast into his mouth.

"Your aunt ate already, she'll leave just after we do. Be sure you say good-bye to her when you go back upstairs."

"Sure, Gram."

Harry took the eggs from her and served himself some, then Ginny. She'd filled his mug with coffee for him, and had set the cream and sugar where he could reach it. He gave her a smile and set the bowl down. His ring caught the light from the kitchen and the windows. Harry took Ginny's hand and gave it a squeeze.

After breakfast, they both went back up to his room to put the last of their things in their trunks; Harry stopped in the doorway of his aunt's room and called a goodbye out to her. She had echoed it, sitting at her desk, and he had continued to his room.

Having put the last of his things in his trunk, Harry closed the lid and flipped the clasps. Ginny was sitting on her own trunk, zipping shut a small shoulder bag.

"Can I put a book in that bag?" he asked her.

"Sure. Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah. It's on the nightstand."

Ginny stood and crossed the room. She picked up the book and, unzipping the bag, pushed it in. "Are you ready?"

Harry straightened up and stretched. "Yeah, I think so."

She dropped the bag on their bed and stepped forward. Harry held out his arms and she slid into his embrace. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and leaned his forehead on hers.

"Ready for everyone asking if it's true that we're married?" Ginny asked.

"Not really," he replied. "I'm hoping we can hide behind Ron and Hermione the entire time."

She laughed. "They're going to have to patrol the train, you know. Fifth year prefects always get stuck with that."

"How long does being a prefect last?"

"Until you graduate, unless you lose your position or get made Head Boy or Girl in seventh year."

Harry kissed her again. "Good for Ron and Hermione."

"But if they're going to be patrolling the train, who do you plan on hiding behind?"

"Neville?" Harry suggested.

"You're taller than him."

"Fred and George. No one would dare bother us then."

"Just resign yourself, love; we are going to get pestered."

Harry sighed. "Fine. But when Malfoy shows up, can I hex him?"

"Only if he doesn't leave when we ask politely."

"Why would he leave if we ask politely?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't expect him to. That means you get to hex him."

He laughed and released her; he moved over to his desk and clicked his tongue at Hedwig, who hooted then reluctantly fluttered into her cage. He closed and locked it, then lifted the end of his trunk. "Shall we go?"

"Might as well," she said, grabbing her bag from the bed. She copied him, and they left the room. Harry pulled the door shut behind him. They moved down the hallway and took the stairs to the first floor.

"Gram!" Harry called. "We're ready."

His grandmother entered the foyer, followed by Dudley.

"See ya," Dudley said, pushing past them and going upstairs.

"Bye," Harry gave him a reply, not really caring. His grandmother took her keys from a table by the door.

"We're leaving," Gram called up the stairs.

"Goodbye, Mum, Harry," his aunt yelled back.

"See you at Christmas," Harry called.

His grandmother opened the front door for them and they pulled their trunks out onto the porch.

"The van should be unlocked," Gram told them. "Go on and put your trunks in the boot."

"Right," Harry said, stepping off the porch and onto the front walk. Ginny followed him to the car and he put their trunks into the back of the car. He stowed Hedwig in the backseat and put a buckle around her cage. She hooted rather unenthusiastically. His grandmother came down the walk and stopped by the driver's side door.

"Harry, there's a box in the back seat, you ought to take that up to the house in case some of the Weasleys want to ride with us."

Harry obeyed his grandmother, taking the box back into the house quickly. Ginny had taken a seat in the middle row, and he joined her, pulling the door closed behind him.

Gram started the car, then put it in reverse. In ten minutes, they were parked in front of the Burrow to see George shoving a trunk into the boot of the family Ford Anglia.

"Morning," George called to them. "All set?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered, getting out of the car. "I'm just going to check my room one more time before we leave."

Harry followed her up to the house, Gram did as well, however she went into the kitchen while they curved towards the sitting room and the stairs.

"Hi, guys," Ron said as he passed them with his trunk thudding behind them.

"You've got a clasp undone," Ginny said over her shoulder as she started up the stairs. They heard Ron curse as they moved to Ginny's room.

Harry slipped past her and opened the door for her; she nodded a thanks and entered the room. Harry stood in the doorway; Fred went by him without pausing as he said a passing hello.

"Forget anything?" Harry asked his wife.

She was standing in the middle of the room, fists on her hips and her lips pursed as she scanned the bedroom.

"I packed my sketch books?"

"All four. Including the one that’s giant."

"And my pencil cases?"

"Each one, blue box, red box, and gray box. Why've you got three anyway?"

"One for blues and greens, one for reds and yellows, one for graphite."

"Oh."

Ginny stepped over to the nightstand and opened a drawer. As she saw nothing she needed, she closed it again. She pulled her wand out of her jacket and flicked it at a lamp across the room that had been left on; it switched off dutifully.

"I do love not having the Trace," Ginny remarked as she put the wand away.

"Me too," Harry replied.

"Did I pack my painting shirts?"

"I think so."

Ginny crossed to her closet and opened it. She pulled an old plaid button up shirt from it and balled it up. "I have one other, but I don't remember if I put it in my trunk or not."

"I'm pretty sure you did."

"Did you get your trainers from my room?"

"I'm wearing them."

"Oh." She looked at him. "Do you have more than one pair of shoes?"

"I own fancy shoes," he said. "And winter boots. I packed those, before you ask."

She shrugged. "Fine. You forget anything?"

"My head," he quipped. She rolled her eyes. Ginny opened her desk drawer but closed it again as there was nothing in it. She left the room, and, having pushed Harry into the hallway, closed the door.

"That's all," she said.

"Then you should go put that in your trunk."

Ginny nodded. She kissed his cheek, then went downstairs. She passed Ron, who waved to Harry.

"What did you forget?" Harry asked him.

"Exploding Snap deck," he said as he passed him. Harry clapped him on the shoulder before going in the opposite direction, following Ginny.

In another twenty minutes, everyone had all of their things packed and in the two cars. Ron decided to ride with Harry and Ginny in Gram's car so he could sit up front, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took the Anglia with Fred and George. Harry gave the Burrow one last wave as Gram pulled into the driveway.

The drive to the station took a little more than three hours. They'd left just before eight, meaning that it was quarter 'til eleven when they pulled into the parking lot of the train station. They all rushed to get their trunks on trolleys, rushed through the station to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and rushed through the seemingly solid wall to get on the already packed Platform 9 and ¾. They scrambled to get their things onto the train; Fred grabbed Ginny’s trunk from her claiming he could lift it faster into the carriage only to have Ron pick it up and shove it into the carriage before Fred could finish getting scolded by Ginny. Hedwig hooted loudly every time Harry tried to step off the train, Ginny almost left her bag with her mother, and Mrs. Weasley realized that the lunches she’d packed were still on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, it’s almost eleven!” Gram called. She hugged Harry, who patted her back, then Ginny. Mrs. Weasley hugged all of her children and got Ginny twice, Mr. Weasley reminded them to all be good that year and – mostly to Harry – to stay out of trouble. They jumped onto the train, then leaned out a nearby window to wave as the train began to move. The Weasley parents both waved with broad grins, though Molly had teary eyes, and Harry’s grandmother blew them kisses in between waves.

“Be good!” Mrs. Weasley called. Then the train rounded a corner and they were gone.

The five of them backed away from the window, to grip their luggage and find a compartment. Fred and George waved to them, then headed off towards the front of the train, and Ron looked around for Hermione.

“We’re supposed to patrol the train,” he said. “Have you seen her?”

“She’s probably at the front with the rest of the prefects,” Ginny said. “Do you want me to take your trunk?”

“Sure, thanks. Er, I guess I’d better head up to meet the prefects.” Ron looked slightly put out at not getting to sit with his friends, but more awkward at having to walk by himself to the front of the train.

“Well, then go,” Ginny said, pulling his trunk up beside hers. Ron gave them a two fingered salute, then started off in the direction Fred and George had gone.

Ginny turned to face Harry and brushed a strand of hair from her face; the rings on her hand caught the light for a moment before she dropped her hand. “Come on, let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

Harry grabbed Ron’s trunk, then pushed his in front of him so he could pull his behind him. “Back or front?” he asked.

“Head towards the back, there’ll be less people there.”

He nodded, then began walking. “You want to find Neville or Luna?”

“Luna’s always in the back, we’ll probably meet her. We can go look for Neville after putting away our trunks, if you like.”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

Luna was indeed in the back, sitting by herself in a corner of her compartment. Ginny pulled open the door and smiled at her.

“Hi, Luna,” she said. “Could we sit with you?”

“Of course,” she said. She had on odd, blue and purple spectacles and was staring at a point somewhere near the lamp above them. Ginny stepped inside, followed by Harry. They lifted first her trunk into the luggage rack, then his and Ron’s. Luna didn’t stop to look at them until Ron’s trunk was shoved above them.

“You have a distinct lack of nargles this morning, Harry,” she said.

“Thanks,” he replied, not bothering to ask why. He had gotten used to Ginny’s strange friend by then. “How’ve you been?”

“Lovely,” she sighed, but offered no further details.

Ginny pulled a band from her wrist and, pushing her hands through her hair, put it up into a ponytail. “Harry wanted to go look for Neville, Lu, you want to come?”

“No, thank you,” she answered. “I’m waiting for him to come to me.”

Ginny frowned, but shrugged, turning back to Harry. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah. See you, Luna.”

“We’ll be back soon,” Ginny added as they stepped back out of the compartment. Luna only smiled warmly at them and continued looking up at the ceiling.

As they moved back up the train, Harry took her hand in his. At that point, most people had settled into compartments, and the corridor was empty. Harry kept his head angled away from the doors in hopes no one would stop to ogle him, though people did stand up to watch them past regardless.

“Hi Harry!”

“There you are!”

The two of them halted as the two voices hailed them. Seamus and Dean opened their compartment door stepped out, looking between them with wide grins.

“Hi, guys,” Harry said.

Seamus glanced at Ginny and raised his eyebrows. “So, is it true?” he asked.

“What?”

“What else?” Dean said. “You two!”

“Oh.” Harry went pink, but he nodded with a small smile. “Yeah, it is.”

Seamus let out a laugh. “Can I be godfather?” he joked.

Harry reddened further. “That part’s not true; she’s not pregnant.”

Seamus and Dean’s smiles turned to frowns. Then Lavender Brown appeared behind them, followed by Pavarti Patil.

“But you’re married,” Lavender said.

“Yes, we are.” Harry was no longer smiling at them.

Ginny raised her hand and wiggled her fingers; Lavender and Pavarti were visibly shocked and jealous at the diamonds in her ring.

“Congratulations, mate,” Dean said, reaching forward and clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Good for you.”

“Thanks,” replied Harry, softening. “Hey, have you seen Neville?”

Seamus pointed in the other direction. “He passed by here just a few minutes ago. Didn’t stop to chat.”

“Thanks,” said Harry once again. “See you.” He started away. Ginny waved to them, letting her wedding ring catch the light from the windows. She was grinning at the look on Lavender and Pavarti’s faces.

“Bitches,” Ginny muttered, but she was still smiling.

“What, your roommates?”

“Yeah. Did you see their faces? I’ll bet you they were hoping all the papers were wrong so they still had a chance at you.”

“At me?” Harry asked. “When did they ever want a chance at me?”

“As far as I’m aware, since the beginning of last term.” Harry frowned, but Ginny laughed. “Do you not know how many girls in Hogwarts want to just be seen walking down the corridor with you? You’re Harry Potter, for Merlin’s sake.”

“I don’t pay attention to girls!” he protested. “I’m not even that attractive!”

Ginny pointed to the compartment they had just passed, in which at least five girls had all jumped up at the sight of him. “Do you see my point?”

Harry sighed. “I’m going to start wearing a hood at all times.”

Ginny grinned and flicked up the hood on his sweatshirt, pulling it down over his eyes. He batted her hand away and adjusted it so he could see. She laughed at him, then looked up ahead.

“Hey, Neville!”

Neville turned and beamed at them. “I’ve been looking for you guys!” he said, stepping towards them. “Where’s Ron?”

“Prefects’ carriage,” Harry answered.

“Oh, is he in trouble?”

They laughed. “No, he’s prefect,” Harry said.

“Really? Oh, well, good for him.”

“Have you got somewhere to sit, Neville?” Ginny asked, noting his trunk in his hand.

“No, everywhere’s full.”

“Come sit with us, then,” Ginny said. “We’re in the back with Luna Lovegood.”

For some reason, Neville went pink. “L-Luna? Oh, erm…”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Sure. I’ll sit with you.”

Ginny gestured him forward. “Come on then.”

As they walked, Neville asked if it was true they were married. “Yes,” Harry said. “No, she’s not pregnant.”

“I didn’t think she was,” Neville replied. “You’d have told me if you were having a kid, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Ginny answered. “For sure.”

_Probably._

_Shut up, Harry._

“So, did you have a good summer?” he asked them.

“Yes, it was nice. What about you?”

“It was alright. I didn’t do anything.”

“Neither did we,” Harry told him.

“Except get married.”

“Okay, we did one thing.”

Neville let out a little chuckle. “You two are the weirdest people I’ve ever met.”

“Lots of people say that,” Ginny mused. “I wonder why.”

They had reached the compartment and Ginny opened the door. Luna had her back to the window and a book directly in front of her face; she didn’t lower it when the door was opened.

“We’re back, Luna,” Ginny said. “We brought Neville.”

Luna still didn’t lower her book. “That’s nice.”

Harry helped Neville put his trunk in the luggage rack before sitting down. He took the seat opposite the window, then Ginny dropped down next him and curled up on the seat, dropping her head on his lap. Neville looked between the small amount of room between Ginny’s feet and the wall and the half of a bench that was next to Luna. He sat down next to Luna, but as far away as he could then stared at the floor.

Ginny peered at the cover of the book Luna was reading, but it was an old hardback that had no design on it. “Whatcha got there?”

“ _Alice in Wonderland_ ,” Luna replied. “It’s a lovely book.”

“I’ve never read it, how is it?”

“Excellent. I’ve read it more than fifteen times.”

“Cool.”

Luna kept on reading. Ginny glanced at Neville, who was staring at the wall now. She looked up at Harry, who began to run his fingers through her hair. She gripped his other hand, his left hand, and rubbed her thumb over his wedding ring.

“I’m told you two got married over the summer,” Luna said suddenly.

“Yes,” Ginny answered.

“Did you have a wedding yet?”

“No, it’ll be during Christmas break.”

“A Christmas wedding… very romantic.”

Ginny smiled. “Yes, it should be.”

Neville glanced at them, then at Luna, then back at his feet. She narrowed her gaze at him, wondering.

 _He’s always quiet and awkward,_ Harry told her.

_No, he isn’t, he’s just quiet._

_And awkward._

_You’re more awkward than he is._

_You say that as if it is a bad thing._

She shook her head at him and looked back to Luna and Neville. Luna’s cheeks had gotten pinker since they’d returned.

 _Something happened between them,_ she decided.

_If you say so._

Ginny pursed her lips at her husband, one eyebrow raised in a scornful look. He merely shrugged his shoulders and leaned back against the seat.

“So…” Harry said. Luna slowly lowered her book, her large eyes fixed on Harry’s. Neville looked back at him. Harry cleared his throat. “Anybody up for a game of Exploding Snap?”

“Sure,” Neville said. Ginny grabbed her bag from the floor and took a deck from it, which she gave to Harry.

They played until the deck combusted, at which point Ginny retrieved a normal deck of cards and they played a different game. The food cart arrived sometime after that, and Harry bought himself and Ginny cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs; Ginny ate two of the cakes while hoping that Tonks never found out. An hour after that, Luna returned to her book, and Neville became less and less interested in the game until he finally stopped and began reading. Ginny made Harry sit on the bench again then she lay down with her head in his lap; the rocking of the train and the distant sound of the pistons were making her sleepy. He let her sleep, gently coming her hair, and dug out Fellowship of the Ring; a compartment full of nerds reading. The thought made him chuckle softly.

Perhaps an hour or half later, when he’d reached a midpoint in his book, their door opened and an obviously exhausted Ron practically fell onto his bench, almost squishing Ginny’s feet, but didn’t as Ginny woke up just in time to jerk them up towards her body. Hermione entered the compartment after him, her face almost as weary-looking as Ron’s. They’d been gone the entire ride so far; the lamps had even turned on by then.

“Hi,” Harry said poignantly with a raised eyebrow. “You two look tired.”

“We had to go up and down the train for two hours,” Hermione sighed. “Can I sit next you, Neville?”

“Sure,” Neville replied; he had pulled his legs onto the bench some time ago, but now he moved them to the floor and shifted to sit upright. Hermione sat herself between Neville and Luna, then leaned her head back.

“There was a group of first years near the middle of the train that decided to try and sass their way out of having taken something from the food cart without paying, then refused to listen to either of us.”

“Did they give whatever it was back?”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t apologize,” she said.

“Right little gits,” Ron added. “Called me a hairy orange.”

“You’re not nearly as round as an orange,” Ginny quipped.

Ron glared at her, but then saw the last of the chocolate frogs on top of her bag. “Ooh, can I have one?”

“Have at it,” she said, waving a hand lazily. Ron grabbed three and unwrapped one.

“So who else is prefect?” Harry asked.

“There’s six for each house,” Hermione said. “Two fifth years, two sixth, and two seventh. Then there’s a Head Boy and Girl, the Head Boy's from Ravenclaw and Head Girl is in Gryffindor this year.”

“But who’s prefect in our year?” Harry pressed.

“Ernie Macmillian and Susan Bones are Prefects for Hufflepuff,” Hermione said, ticking them off on a finger. “Then Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw, and for Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass and –”

“Malfoy,” Ron spat. “He’s wormed his way into being Prefect.”

“No!” Ginny said, half sarcastic.

“Snape would make him king of the entire school if he asked,” Harry said. “Git.”

Ron opened his mouth, about to continue badmouthing Malfoy, when the git himself appeared in the doorway.

Harry drew his wand even before Malfoy had opened the door. He didn’t raise it, but gripped it tightly at his side.

“Speak of the devil,” Harry said calmly.

“Oh, were you talking about me?” Malfoy said, touching a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know you cared, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes pointedly. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“I wanted to hear if it was true,” said the platinum blonde git. “Did you really knock up the Weaselette over the summer?”

Ron shot to his feet, red in the face, but Ginny yanked him back down before he could get any words out. Harry glared coolly into Malfoy’s maliciously glinting eyes.

“I didn’t, as you so vulgarly put it, knock anyone up,” Harry said.

“Oh, then why the ring?” Malfoy asked, gesturing to Harry’s exposed left hand. “And did you buy it, Weasley? Looks like something you’d get in a thrift store.”

Ginny raised her own left hand, letting the emerald and diamonds catch the light. “Does this really look like something you’d get second hand?”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. “If you’re not pregnant, why would he marry you?”

“Why do you care?” Harry asked. “Why don’t you just leave before I hex you?”

His nemesis shrugged. “Oh, no reason. It is a shame the Potter line has been tainted, however. You had your pick of sophisticated, pureblood witches, Potter. It’s such a shame.”

“I’ll say it again,” Harry replied, “leave before I hex you.” He raised his wand.

Malfoy sneered at him, his gray eyes flashing in malevolent, disturbingly so, glee. “You just watch yourself, Potter; that whore of yours is going to ruin you.”

Harry did hex him; in anger he cast a Stinging hex at Malfoy, but he slammed the door shut and it bounced off the glass to hit the ceiling where it dissipated. Malfoy waved merrily to them before leaving. Harry, seething strode to the door to yank it open; he would duel that son of a bitch in the corridors of the train, and he was going to, but Ginny grabbed his arm and shoved him onto the bench.

 _Stop it,_ she thought. She was standing in front of him, physically holding him onto the bench to keep him from jumping back up.

“I’m going to kill him, I swear it,” he growled.

_Calm down._

“He deserves it!” Harry was almost shouting. “He deserves a slow and painful death!”

_Harry! Stop it!_

He did; he fell silent, her gaze burning into his.

 _You are not going to kill Malfoy,_ Ginny thought. _You’re too good. You’re not like him._

And he deflated. He fell back against the seat, his gaze on the ground.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Ginny nodded, still silent. She released him, then sat beside him and pushed her arms around him, pulling him against her.

The four others in the compartment were staring at them, their eyes wide at their seemingly one-side exchange. Only Ron and Hermione knew how Ginny had calmed him in silence, but even Luna was startled by this. Then:

“You must be meant for each other,” Luna said.

“Why’s that, Lu?” Ginny asked her.

“No one else would be able to stop him so easily,” she answered.

Ginny said nothing in reply. She simply hugged Harry tighter, her head dropping onto his shoulder. Harry pulled one arm out and draped it over her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

Eventually, they began to speak again; Hermione kept telling them about the prefects and the bad-tempered first years that she hoped for her own sake got sent to some other house – preferably Slytherin, Ron had added – and what they would have to do as Prefects. Harry wasn’t really listening for the most part.

When the train began to slow, Harry was very hungry and had cooled off from the encounter with Malfoy. They got their robes out of their trunks and pulled them on over their Muggle clothing, then pulled down their trunks as the final hiss of the pistons sounded and started to make their way from the compartment to the carriage exit onto the platform. Harry’s heart was beating rapidly in excitement; he was back at Hogwarts.

As usual, they left their trunks at the platform and started for the carriages that would carry them to the castle. It had only been two months since he’d left, but Harry already felt as if the very air was working all of the worry that had built up in him, like there was some different blend of oxygen and nitrogen here than in Devon.

But the air wasn’t sweet enough to drown out all of the whispers or the blatant talking around them. They ignored it best they could, but every hiss of “pregnant” sounded like shouts to them. They mounted the crest of the hill; a boy shut the door to his carriage and it lurched forward, travelling up the path behind a large, black form.

Both Harry and Ginny stopped in their tracks. The skeletal creatures were at the head of every coach, almost like horses but without any of the skin or muscle and it had wings, as if someone had taken the bones of a Pegasus, taken them apart and put them back together all wrong, then coated it in leather, and enchanted it to act as if it were alive; a skeleton that could walk. They stared, struck by fear or panic, until Neville stepped in front of them.

“You okay?” he said.

Harry gave him a slow nod, peering over his shoulder at the black, demonic looking beast. Neville glanced in the same direction, then he turned back to face them, his eyes not quite meeting theirs.

“You’re not okay,” he muttered. “Just ignore them.”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“It’s called a Thestral,” said Luna softly.

Harry looked at her; at her normally large eyes and her arms clutching her book to her chest. She was staring at them, unblinking, with a kinder gaze.

“What are they doing there?” Ginny asked her. Ron and Hermione had stopped walking, looking back in confusion.

“They’ve always been there,” Neville answered. “They pull the carriages.”

“The carriages pull themselves,” Harry said.

“No, the Thestrals do.”

“How come we’ve never seen them?” Ginny questioned.

“Only people who’ve seen death can,” said Luna.

They fell silent. Ron took a step back towards them.

“You alright?” he said.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, shaking his head. He looked between Neville and Luna, his brow still furrowed. “You’ve seen them this entire time?”

“Well, I didn’t see them until third year,” Neville said. “My grandfather died during the summer that year, when I came back, they were there.”

Ginny was looking at Luna. “Your mother died when you were nine,” she said softly. “I – I didn’t realize that… that you saw it…”

Luna shrugged. “It didn’t really matter.”

Harry’s gaze drifted back to the creature, the Thestral. “We… Diggory…” His stomach lurched, remembering the tip of the knife sliding out of Diggory’s chest, the blood seeping out onto his shirt, his pale face that had looked so surprised and confused, his glassy eyes as he fell to the ground…

Ginny gripped his hand and pulled him forward. “Come on, we should go.”

Ron and Hermione fell into step beside them, their faces concerned. “You okay, mate?” Ron asked again as they climbed into the coach. Neville shut the door and the carriage started forward. Harry nodded, saying nothing as his throat was tight. He was remembering the voice that had come from behind the mask, the sound of a body thudding as it limply fell, Krum’s screams as his arm was severed, the feel of the warm, gooey blood hitting him as it shot from Krum’s elbow, the smell… He could still smell it, the sharp scent of iron and the warmth of it soaking his clothes.

Ginny grabbed his arm and pulled him to her; she pressed a hand to his face and kissed him quickly. _Stop thinking about it,_ she whispered in his mind. _Or it’ll never go away._

Harry brushed her cheek with his knuckles, then cupped it with a palm. He kissed her again, ignoring Ron’s loud clearing of his throat, and touched his forehead to hers. Ron cleared his throat again, then let out a loud “Ow!” as they heard Hermione hit him.

_It’ll never leave…_

_But you can._

She leaned against him, her hand going to find his. He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles, passing over her wedding and engagement ring with an absent mind. He watched from the door window the gargoyles of the gates get closer, until they were passing them and the castle was in sight. The coach came to a stop in the crest of the rounded drive, and Harry jumped out first. He held out his hand to Ginny, and immediately thought of another time, when carriages pulling up to castles meant grand balls and women in giant skirts ready to dance. She smiled at his thought, then took his hand as she stepped down.

When they stepped through the grand oak doors, he took a deep breath and chose to push away everything the sight of the Thestral had brought up. Ron clapped him on the shoulder as he went past him, heading straight for the Great Hall and the expected food. Harry rolled his eyes at his best mate, but then smiled as his wife tugged him in the same direction. He was at Hogwarts, he would be sitting down to a feast in a moment, he had his wife and she was smiling back at him. It didn't matter if the whole world was crashing down around them, it couldn't reach him there.

The hall was full, and standing right behind Ron meant that no one could see his face. He took advantage of this as they walked down the hall, Ron heading for an empty spot near Fred and George. Harry saw Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet with them, sitting on either side of them, and waved to them. They took their seats, each of them for the first years to arrive and for the feast to begin.

It didn't take long; they were there within five minutes. Harry watched them walk between the tables, the lot of them looking around nervously. One boy caught his gaze and turned pink before looking quickly away. Professor McGonagall mounted the raised platform and turned to face the students, standing beside a little three legged stool upon which a ragged old hat sat, the first years bunching up in front of her.

McGonagall cleared her throat. She pulled a scroll out of thin air, making the first years gasp, and unrolled it. Then she turned to face the hat, and it held itself straighter.

The rip at the brim opened wide, and the Sorting Hat's voice echoed through the Great Hall as it began its song.

 _"In times of old when I was new,_  
Great wizards four, they had a dream,  
To make the world’s best magic school  
And to wizards it would gleam.  
They sought a perfect place  
To teach all their knowledge  
To members of all their race  
And so founded this sacred college.  
First came sweet Hufflepuff,  
To Ravenclaw with her plan,  
And so they went to Gryffindor,  
Who said they needed a fourth man,  
Who would come but wise old Slytherin  
To aid them in this part,  
A school they would form,  
And this was the first start.  
But who to teach, they asked,  
Well, wizards of course,  
But decide they did of what class.  
Bold Gryffindor did call  
To teach those of great bravery,  
And deeds that were in no way small.  
No, said Ravenclaw, those of great mind,  
Clever and intuitive,  
With skill and who are wise.  
Proud Slytherin thought to be more exclusive,  
To include only those who were  
Born into magic, with wizarding roots.  
Hufflepuff then corrected them,  
They should teach those with heart,  
And that all other points were moot.  
“Let’s try this!” Slytherin did say,  
“Let’s take them all,  
And sort them on the first day.  
Each of us will take the students  
Who aspire to be like us.”  
Now wouldn’t that be prudent?  
So here I am, a simple Hat, that’s true,  
I am here to sort you,  
So listen to this news:  
Long ago, when first this school  
Was run by our founders four  
To teach and learn and stay a place of peace,  
It worked until it could no more.  
One day it got too much for one,  
And never again did Slytherin speak to us,  
Why precisely I cannot be sure.  
So hear me when I say,  
Division and discord will break foundations,  
Remaining separate is not the way.  
There is danger here, a threat to our very nation,  
But idle minds will ignore every warning  
Until it is too late.  
Oh, do you see what I am saying?  
Do you understand that the threat is great?  
Dear students, unite inside Hogwarts,  
Let not Houses be real or firm walls,  
I shall sort you now, as that is what I’m for,  
I implore you to listen to my call!  
You will see soon if not now,  
Let the sorting now, begin!”

There was applause in the hall, but for the first time that Harry could remember, it was hesitant and punctured by whispers. The Hat’s song was strange, a warning against danger that the rest of the student body did not know existed. They were right to mutter.

“Branched out some, don’t you think?” Harry heard Angelina mutter.

“Yeah,” answered Fred, but he was looking at Harry. His furrowed brow and worried gaze seemed to ask a question, but Harry did not care to interpret it. He looked down at the empty plate before him, then back up at McGonagall and the first years. The Transfiguration teacher was eyeing the still muttering audience with a disapproving look that almost smoldered. Quickly, as more and more students caught her gaze, the mutterings fell to a rest and McGonagall unrolled her scroll.

“Abercrombie, Euan!”

A tiny, terrified looking boy stumbled out of the group and up to the little stool and the Hat. He put it on after dropping onto the seat, and it fell right over his eyes to be held up by his rather tall ears. There was silence, the students all breathed in time, and the rip at the brim opened once again to shout:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry and all the other Gryffindors clapped, some cheered, and Euan Abercrombie smiled bashfully as he took off the hat, then fairly ran to the table where he dropped onto the end of a bench and tried to make himself as small as possible. Harry almost smiled, remembering doing almost the exact same thing.

The next twenty minutes he watched the queue of tiny, nervous, stumbling first year students become smaller and smaller as they were sorted into houses. Of the fifty or so, about ten came to Gryffindor, nearly twenty to Hufflepuff, exactly twelve to Slytherin, and the rest to Ravenclaw. Each new student was applauded and cheered for and each new student grinned either shyly or basking in the applause.

Finally, the last in the line was seated at her table and McGonagall and the hat left the hall through the very door Harry had gone through last year after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore rose from his chair, his arms outstretched and a fond smile upon his lips.

"To our new students," he began, "I say welcome. To our old students, welcome back. There is a time for speech-making, and this is not it. Tuck in!"

And all at once the plates and bowls and dishes before them were filled with food, and directly before Harry was a very fantastic smelling roast turkey. Food was eaten, friends re-connected, stomachs were stretched, and Harry ate perhaps too much treacle tart. As the last of the desserts vanished, all eyes turned back to Professor Dumbledore as he once again stood.

“Now that we are all full, we are soon bound to become sleepy, therefore I shall make this short. We have no new teachers this year, so please congratulate Professors Lupin and Black on their survival to teach another year!” There was applause, and Harry saw Sirius beaming out at the crowd while Lupin looked slightly pink. When the clapping died, Dumbledore began again. “Mr. Filch, our caretaker has asked me to remind you that using spells in the corridors is forbidden, and that Fanged Frisbees are still banned. To see the full list of banned items which contains now 114 items, please visit Mr. Filch’s office on the fourth floor. First years should note that the forest on the edge of the grounds is off-limits, and several of our older students should remember that by now.” Harry could swear Dumbledore was looking right at Fred and George. “Classes shall begin on Monday, so please have an excellent weekend. Now, off to bed you go.”

The sound of benches scraping against the stone floor filled the hall as the students all rose from their seats and began to exit the Great Hall. Hermione grabbed Ron’s sleeve as he turned to go, reminding him that they had to lead the first years up to Gryffindor Tower.

“Oh, right. Er, oi! Midgets!”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “You can’t call them that! First years, over here please!”

Harry stepped back as the timid looking group of first years approached, taking Ginny’s hand as he did. “We’ll see you later,” he said to their friends. “Have fun!”

“Thanks,” Ron grumbled.

Ginny tugged on Harry’s arm, then leaned on his shoulder as they began to follow the crowd out. _I’m sleepy,_ she thought.

“Course you are,” he chuckled. “Come on then.”

“Hey, Potter! Potter!”

Harry stopped, looking around. A girl older than them had called to them, and she was quickly making her way to them.

“I’m Sarah Hollins, Head Girl this year,” she said. “Professor McGonagall has asked me to show you to your quarters.”

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said, going a little pink. Sarah Hollins was taller than he was, almost six feet he guessed, and had broad shoulders that gave her an intimidating figure, even without her no-nonsense expression. She had stern eyes, dark auburn hair that had been pulled into a bun and a thin mouth that was at that moment set in a frown. He guessed that she was not pleased at being told to escort him and Ginny. Hollins moved past them, quickly navigating the crowd into the Entrance Hall. People seemed to step aside for her, or perhaps it was her irritated expression or her rather intimidating figure or the fact that she took long strides, so Harry and Ginny just tried to walk in her wake. Soon they had made their way to the marble staircase and Hollins was going up them two at a time, which they found difficult to keep up with. Eventually, they had headed off the crowd and Hollins was leading them through a shortcut to Gryffindor Tower.

When they reached the Fat Lady, Hollins pulled from her robes a slip of paper, which she glanced over before addressing the painting.

“Neverland,” she said.

The Fat Lady inclined her head and swung forward. Hollins ducked her head to climb through the hole and they followed her. In the common room, Harry posed a question to her.

“Are there private quarters off of Gryffindor Tower?”

Hollins gave a nod. “Yes, loads. There’s a whole two floors above the regular dormitories for married students.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The castle was built during a time when people married a lot younger, especially women, so there were frequently students with spouses, some of which weren’t enrolled. Nowadays they’re never used except when Gryffindor has a Head Boy or Girl.”

“So we’ll be neighbors?” Ginny asked Hollins.

The Head Girl nodded, though she didn’t look particularly pleased about this. “The entrance to the extra quarters is past the normal dorms, so you’ll have to go past the other students to get to them. We’ll go up the boys’ stairs so Potter doesn’t slide back down.”

Hollins led them up through the boys' dorms, past rooms Harry had never seen, until they ran out of stairs at which point she walked past all the other doors to the very last one. She opened it and let them go past her.

“Normally, Potter, er, Mrs. Potter, you’ll have to go through the girls' dorms like I do to get up here.”

“That’s fine,” Ginny said, not knowing what else she should say. They had to go up one more flight of stairs before Hollins stopped and entered a corridor. Harry saw that there was another stairway flanking the one they’d come up, probably going down into the girls’ dorms.

“Here you are,” she said, opening a door to their left. “That’s your rooms, mine’s across the hall.”

Harry looked into the room, seeing deep red hardwood floors and matching furniture and their luggage piled in the middle of the room and Hedwig in her cage waiting for him to release her; he looked back to Hollins and smiled appreciatively. She stepped out of the doorway, towards the other side of the hall.

“The rooms all have silencing charms on the outer walls,” she said, “so don’t worry about accidentally waking me up.”

Ginny frowned. “What would we wake you up with?”

That was the first time she smiled since finding them in the Great Hall, but it was an “are you kidding me?” sort of smile. “You’re newlyweds. What else?” At which point, she turned and opened her own door; she shut it behind her with a foot, almost slamming it. Ginny turned to Harry, her eyebrows raised.

“Well then,” she huffed.


	33. Saturday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Thirty-Three  
Saturday Morning  
Ginny**

Ginny stepped inside the room and Harry pulled the door closed behind them. She looked around, studying their surroundings. There were two doors off that room, and this appeared to be some kind of sitting room. There were two couches patterned in red and gold paisley, a coffee table, a radio, a fireplace, and for some reason a gramophone sitting on top of a chest of drawers. The bottom half of the walls were painted a deep red and the top half had wallpaper that matched the couches. Their trunks were by the couches, and Hedwig’s cage on the coffee table. There was a fire in the grate, and she saw a glass jar of Floo powder on the mantle. 

“We practically have an apartment,” she said.

“We could have private parties,” Harry said.

“Consisting of you, me, Ron and Hermione?” Ginny asked him with a raised eyebrow.

“And Neville. That’s why it’s called a private party.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and started towards the door on the left. She pushed it open and gave a tiny gasp. “We have our own kitchen!” she said.

Harry walked up behind her. “Wow,” he murmured. Granted, it was a small kitchen, but there was a stove and a sink and cupboards and a little knife block on the counter. It was cozy, done in the same style as the sitting room, however with bronze stone tiles rather than wallpaper and white linoleum flooring. There was a kettle on the stove, and when she stepped inside she found that it was already full of water. She opened a cupboard and found boxes of tea and mugs.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Ginny asked her husband with a grin.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like the stereotypical British housewife,” he told her, but he wanted tea. She shrugged and turned on the burner, then sorted through the different teas.

“We’ve got Earl Gray, English and Irish Breakfast tea, Chamomile, Lemon, and Constant Comment.”

“What on earth is Constant Comment?” Harry asked.

She picked up the box. “Orange and spice.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Tea isn’t meant to be orange,” he complained.

Ginny set the box back in the cupboard. “There’s also Green tea, Pomegranate Green tea, Sleepytime tea, and Raspberry leaf.”

“A: What is Sleepytime, B: Pomegranate?! C: What’s Raspberry for?”

Ginny read the boxes. “Sleepytime is a blend, it’s got lavender and chamomile and black tea, Pomegranate Green tea sounds good, thank you very much, and apparently –” she raised her eyebrows appreciatively – “Raspberry leaf tea is good for period cramps.”

Harry wished that he hadn’t asked. “I’d like to stick to Earl Gray, thank **you** very much.”

Ginny shrugged once more and took out the Earl Gray as well as the pomegranate. “Shall we go see the rest of our rooms?”

Harry backed out of the kitchen doorway and she left the kettle to heat. Harry followed her to the other door and she opened it to see a bedroom. The floor was carpeted in a rich shade of cranberry, there was a wardrobe and two sets of dressers, a vanity table with a mirror, another floor length mirror in a corner, a bed with long drapes and a red and gold duvet with two night-tables on each side, a slim chest at the foot of the bed beneath a cushion, and the walls were the same as the sitting room. There was a window on each side of the bed with drawn curtains that matched the drapery. Ginny stepped into the room, then saw another door on the front wall. She opened it to see a rather large bathroom, with white tiles and marble countertops and a separate shower from the long, double-wide bathtub. 

She turned back to Harry. He raised his eyebrows at her. She raised hers. He shrugged. She shook her head.

“This is a little more than I was expecting,” she said.

“I wonder if every room is like this.”

“I can’t imagine what it would have cost,” she said, looking back at the bathroom then at the polished furniture that had a deep red hue. 

“Well, given magic, I expect most of it was conjured.”

She considered this. “Maybe.” Ginny shrugged once more and exited the bedroom, going to their trunks. Hedwig hooted again, and she paused to open the cage. The owl hopped from it, shook her feathers, then took off and flew into the bedroom. Ginny looked back to see her perching on top of the wardrobe. Harry moved past her and grabbed his trunk; she took her own and they dragged them into the bedroom where they were shoved against a wall to be unpacked later. They got their tea and returned to their new room.

Harry turned to face her, and she tried to think of something to say. He did too, but it seemed neither of them had any brainwaves that could be translated into English at that moment. 

So Ginny just opened her trunk and took out her toiletries and pajamas, then went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. A minute later, as she was rinsing, Harry came in with his own things. They had showered that morning, so they simply prepared for bed and pulled back the blankets on the bed. They slipped into the sheets and their brains crashed, then fell asleep.

Sunlight drifted through the windows, falling onto the bed in the way sunlight does purely out of spite. Ginny rolled over in an attempt to shield her eyes from the light and remain asleep. She pulled Harry’s arm over her eyes and settled back to try and return to sleep. She had been having a rather interesting dream.

Harry shifted and his arm fell onto her stomach. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden red hue of the inside of her eyelids, then rolled over again to bury her face in Harry’s shirt. But she soon found the warm air irritating and moved again. Ginny let out a sigh and carefully blinked her eyes open to the point where she could see slightly through her eyelashes and the residue of her sleep. 

She looked at Harry, then poked his chest. He ignored her. Ginny poked him again, then twice in a row. He continued to ignore it.

“Wake up,” she said.

“No,” he mumbled.

“Wake up,” she insisted.

“No,” Harry moaned, then rolled away. She poked his back. He waved a hand fitfully at her. 

“Wake up!” she repeated, now poking him with both index fingers. He turned back and grabbed her hands, then tugged her to his chest. He kissed her, then locked his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin.

“Wake up,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“No,” he mumbled back. 

Ginny extracted a hand and poked his side. Harry groaned and finally opened his eyes.

“What?” he said.

“I’m awake,” she said.

“I know that.”

“So you should be awake.”

“I disagree.”

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m sleeping.”

“You’re not asleep now.”

“I would be if you wouldn’t poke me so incessantly.”

“I wouldn’t have to poke you if you just got up.”

Harry huffed, his bangs fluttering away from his face. “I don’t want to get up.”

“But I want to get up.”

“So get up.”

“I want you to get up too.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You asked that already.”

“Just get up.”

“What is on spelled backwards?"

“No?”

“Precisely. No.”

Ginny pouted. Then she shifted until her back was to him. “I can’t get up unless you get up.”

“Why not?”

“Because you won’t let go.”

“Because I don’t want to get up.”

“Which is preventing me from getting up.”

“If you get up, that means I have to.”

Ginny looked back at him. “Then get up.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I want to keep sleeping.”

“But you’re awake now,” she argued.

“It’s Saturday,” Harry protested.

“It’s the first day back at Hogwarts.”

“Which is a Saturday. We are in private quarters with literally no one on our floor but irritable Head Girl Hollins. No brothers or cousins to come bother us, no chores, no classes until Monday – ”

“Except our extra classes,” Ginny interrupted. “Which are on Saturdays.”

Harry flopped back onto the pillows with a groan. “Can’t we just stay in bed for another seven hours?” he begged.

“No!” Ginny insisted, slipping away from him and getting to her feet. “You had better gotten up by the time I get out of the shower, hear me?”

Harry simply groaned again as she made her way into the bathroom. She found towels stacked on a shelf above the toilet and her things put neatly away. She guessed that the house elves had come by as she turned the water on and set a bath mat down on the floor. After her shower, she brushed her teeth and wrapped herself in a towel as she had once again forgotten to bring clothes in. 

“Your turn,” she called to Harry as she moved to her trunk. He sighed, then sat up and stretched. He glanced at her, then quickly away. Ginny squatted down to pull clothes from her trunk as Harry got out of the bed and moved into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She rubbed away the last of the water, then dressed quickly in school robes. Ginny grabbed her wand from the nightstand and, standing in front of the vanity, dried her hair before she left the bedroom. 

She waited in the sitting room for Harry to finish his shower and dress. She found her bag by the couch and took out Lord of the Rings to read as she waited. Harry had gotten ahead of her last time he had read it, but she didn’t mind. 

Harry exited the bedroom sometime later, rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Want to go down to breakfast?” he asked.

Ginny set down the book and stood up. “Sure. Come here.” Harry stepped closer, and she raised her wand.

“What?” he said.

“Your hair, come closer.”

“Oh.” Harry stepped in front of her and she waved her wand over his unruly hair, then combed her fingers through it. Harry slipped his arm around her waist, a smile forming on his lips. Ginny, slipping her wand into her robes, pushed her other hand through his hair, gently combing it out. Harry leaned forward and kissed her softly.

“Harry?”

They broke apart quickly, looking around the room. The fireplace had turned green and there was a face resting in it. 

“Remus?” Harry said.

“Morning,” their professor said brightly. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Harry said. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to remind you that we still have training later today. Dumbledore is probably going to call in a minute, though, to give you your schedule for Saturday classes.”

Harry looked slightly put-out. “Oh, right, thanks, Remus.”

“Alright, I’ve got to go now, Sirius is calling me.”

“Have fun with that,” Ginny quipped. Even though the fire was tinted green, they could tell that his cheeks had tinged pink. 

“Right,” he said. “Will do. Er, bye.”

His head retreated from the grate. Ginny turned back to Harry, her eyebrows raised.

“Note to self,” he said, “don’t start snogging in front of the fire.”

Ginny laughed and kissed him again. “That just leaves the kitchen.”

“There’s one other room,” he reminded her.

“Which is a bedroom.”

“Fair point.”

“Dumbledore is going to call soon, isn’t he?”

Harry and Ginny both looked to the fireplace. They waited four seconds. Dumbledore’s face appeared in the fire. 

“Good morning,” he said.

“Called it,” Ginny said, and tried to leave. Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her back, pinning her to his side.

“Morning, sir,” he replied.

“Did you have a good rest?”

“Yes, sir. This room is quite nice.”

“Very good. I just called to ask you to come to my office around one o’clock.”

Harry nodded. “What time is it now?”

Dumbledore looked away from them, then back. “Quarter to ten.”

Harry turned to face Ginny. “We should have stayed asleep.”

Ginny squirmed out of his grip. “Oh, shut up, Harry.”

“We’ll see you at one,” Harry said. “We’re going to go get breakfast now.”

“Very well, until later.” Dumbledore pulled out of the fire the flames died. Harry looked at his wife, who was standing by the door.

“Should have stayed in bed,” he said again. “It’s not even ten.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and opened the door. Harry followed her from the room, then they paused at the stairs down.

“I’m supposed to go through the girls’ dorm,” she said.

“Right. See you at the bottom then.” 

_You are so awkward._

_Oh shut up._

Harry passed several doors on his way down, most of them closed. When he reached the dorm he’d lived in the past four years, he hesitated. Then, carefully twisting the knob, he opened the door and peered inside. Everyone was asleep, and the bed that had been his was empty. He wondered if he should wake up Ron, but decided against it. He would want his sleep.

He made his way down the rest of the way to the common room, where he found Ginny leaning against the wall between the two sets of stairs. 

“You took long enough,” she said cheekily.

“You were there barely ten seconds before I arrived,” Harry defended himself. He took her arm and they began towards the portrait hole and the main castle.

“What do you think Dumbledore will have us do?” Ginny asked as they were exiting Gryffindor tower.

“He mentioned Legilimency and Occlumency, so we’d probably start with that.”

“That’s the mind reading stuff, right?”

“Yeah, Occlumency is where you defend your mind and Legilimency is the attack.”

“Right. What else though?”

“Probably advanced dueling stuff.”

“But aren’t we doing that with Tonks?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.” Ginny let out a soft _hmm_ and leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder. Her hand gripped the open front of his robe and her other slipped into his pocket. _Are you cold?_ He asked her.

_No._

_Are you picking my pocket then?_

_No, silly. I’m just leaning on you._

Harry rolled his eyes but relented. Ginny pressed closer to his side, her eyes fluttering closed. She began walking with her eyes shut, using his sight to guide her feet. When they reached the Great Hall, she switched to her own eyes and they took seats at the Gryffindor table. 

“Morning, Potter.”

Harry looked up and made eye contact with Angelina Johnson who had just sat down. “Morning,” he replied. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been made Captain of the Gryffindor team,” she said.

“That’s excellent!” Harry told her. “When’s first practice?”

“Saturday after next, then the next day we’re holding tryouts for a new Keeper.”

“Cool,” Harry answered.

“I want the whole team there to see how they fit with the Keeper.”

“Alright, I’ll be there. Er, though on Saturdays I have, er, extra lessons with Professor Lupin.”

Angelina blinked at him. “What for? You’re top at Defense.”

“Um, it’s a long story,” Harry replied, ignoring her second comment. “I’ll do my best to be at practices, though.”

“Well, make sure you do. See you, Harry,” she pushed up from the bench and started farther down the table, her braids swinging behind her.

“Maybe I’ll try out for reserve Chaser,” Ginny commented.

“But you don’t have a broom,” he said.

“I’ll just borrow yours.”

“But wouldn’t I be riding it?”

Ginny considered this. “Then I’ll be reserve Seeker. I used to race Charlie back when he was still here, and he said I was quite good. Plus I’ve got your years of learning.”

“Fair point,” he said. “I don’t think we have a reserve Seeker right now.”

Ginny nodded to herself as she served herself a crumpet. “Yes, I’ll replace you on the team.”

“Hey!”

Ginny sniggered and grinned at him. He stuck his tongue out at her, to which she pointedly rolled her eyes and turned away to put jam on her crumpet.

Twenty minutes later when they had finished with their breakfast, the two of them walked back up to Gryffindor tower arm in arm, passing the other students who had only just woken up, which seemed to be rather a lot. By the time they returned to the tower, the common room was empty but for Ron.

“Hi, Ron,” Ginny called as they stepped out of the portrait hole.

“There you are,” Ron said, rising from his chair. “We were wondering where you’d gone last night.”

“We’re up on the top floors,” Harry said. “There’s private quarters up there.”

“Really?” Ron asked. “I know Percy got separate rooms when he was Head Boy, is that where you are?”

“Possibly,” Harry said with a shrug. “The Head Girl is across from us; the floor we’re on and the one above are all rooms meant for married students.”

“Was it already there?” Ron said with a confused expression. 

“Yeah, the Head Girl told us they were built with the rest of the castle because there were a lot more married students back then.”

“Cool,” Ron mused.

“Anyway, what are you doing down here instead of in the Great Hall?” Ginny asked her brother. “Aren’t you starving?”

“Nah, I’m waiting for Hermione. She said we should go down together in case McGonagall wanted to talk to us about Prefect duties.”

“Didn’t you guys cover all that yesterday on the train?” Ginny questioned.

“I suppose not,” Ron answered with a shrug of his own. “She should be down soon anyway, we said we’d meet at ten thirty.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow and fought a smirk. “Oh? Well, you two have fun then. We’re going to go unpack.”

“We are?” Harry said.

“Yes, we are,” she replied. “See you, Ron.”

“See you.”

They split apart at the stairs up and traveled up in step, entering their corridor at the exact same moment. Harry opened the door for her and they moved into their new sitting room.

“So what are we unpacking?” Harry asked her.

“Our stuff,” she replied. “We’ve got a wardrobe and dressers now, we might as well use them.”

“Oh, fine then. Lead on, fair lady.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at him

So went the next few hours. Around noon, they finished and left for lunch. They found Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall and told them of their appointment with Dumbledore at one o’clock. Hermione began to speculate about what he might be teaching them while Ron constructed a sandwich out of several ingredients Harry had never thought meant to be paired together. After lunch, they walked up to the fourth floor and knocked upon Dumbledore’s office door.

_It’s a Dumble-door,_ Ginny thought. Harry pressed a hand over his eyes.

_I have to spend the rest of my life with this,_ he thought. Ginny grinned at him, as the Headmaster called for them to enter.


	34. Harry James Potter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Thirty-Four  
Harry James Potter!  
Harry**

They found Dumbledore seated at his desk, his hands folded together and a kindly smile upon his face. He gestured for them to sit, and they did.

“I trust your first morning back has been pleasant,” he began.

They simply nodded. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, a pondering expression taking over his features. 

“We shan’t begin your extra lessons today, as we will be going over what you’ll be doing. You shall meet with me on Tuesday and Thursday evenings at eight thirty starting next week, where we will begin with learning Occlumency. As you know, you’ll be getting up to work with Nymphadora Tonks in the early morning, but you will also be working with her every four Saturdays. Next Saturday you will have a private lesson with Professor McGonagall, the next week with Professor Flitwick, the next with Professor Snape, and then with Professors Lupin and Black as well as Auror Tonks.”

Harry scowled at the mention of Snape but said nothing. “Now, your normal schoolwork and your mental and physical health are very important, therefore whatever work you receive from your extra classes will be small to allow for your everyday activities. I said earlier that no lesson of yours will last after eleven in the evening, and you won’t have work on Sundays. Does this seem satisfactory?”

“Yes,” Harry replied.

“Excellent. Now, what do you know about Occlumency and Legilimency?”

“It’s mind-reading, isn’t it?” 

Dumbledore inclined his head. “In the vernacular, yes, I suppose. Legilimency is the offensive, the action of opening another’s thoughts and inserting your own when necessary. It’s more of listening to another’s mind. In some cases it can be a violent act, but in the majority of times when Legilimency is used, it is used as a tool for observation and espionage. Do you understand so far?”

Ginny and Harry nodded, and the Headmaster went on. “Occlumency is the reverse of that, a defensive stance. When you use Occlumency, you are preventing a Legilimens from entering your mind and, when powerful, turning the attack back on its originator if necessary.”

“Got it,” Harry said.

“Very good. We shall begin with Occlumency next Tuesday, and once you have sufficiently managed it, I will begin to add in Legilimency. Most people find it a difficult art to learn, however I have observed that the two of you have a natural aptitude for Occlumency, due to, I believe, your bond.”

“Probably,” Ginny said. 

“Pray tell me, are you able to block thoughts coming from the other?”

Harry looked at Ginny. “Er, sort of.”

“We call it closing the door,” Ginny explained. “Like with closing a normal door, you can’t see across it or go through to the other side without opening it but you can still shout through it.”

“I do not understand,” Dumbledore told them, leaning forward in his chair. “What does that do?”

Harry tried to translate the action into English. “Erm, well, the way we’re connected, I can see and hear what she’s seeing and hearing if I move my mental self from my part of my brain to her part.”

“Your part?” Dumbledore questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s what we call it.”

“You suggest that your physical minds are split as physically one or the other?”

“No, more like part of my consciousness is actually Ginny’s.”

“So you believe you are not merely connected, but that you are each other?” Dumbledore looked very confused.

Harry frowned. “No, not actually. That’s just what it feels like.”

“Like if our heads were lakes,” Ginny interrupted, “my lake has a river going to Harry’s.”

“Yet Harry implied that it was the same lake.”

“It’s not the same lake,” Ginny corrected. “They’re just closely connected.”

Dumbledore was still frowning. “So your consciousness can leave your mind, Harry, and go into Ginny’s to look through her eyes?”

“Not completely,” Harry said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still aware of what’s going on around me and in my body, but rather than focusing on what I see with my eyes, I focus on her view.”

Dumbledore looked at them over his glasses, appearing as though he were attempting to detangle their explanations. “I see,” he said slowly. “You can adjust your focus from your physical mind to her mind.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“And this door you mentioned, when you close it you cannot shift that focus however you are still able to communicate across it.”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit more difficult. The background noises of our minds get muffled and we have to think more loudly to get the point across.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And you use this door often?”

“Only when we’re changing or showering or using the toilet,” Ginny said. “Or if we’re planning a surprise for the other.”

“Is it easy to keep the door closed?”

“No,” Harry said, looking down at the desk and shaking his head. “It doesn’t like being closed.”

“Sometimes it opens on its own,” Ginny said. “So we try to keep whatever we’re doing or we’ll open and re-close the door every so often.”

Dumbledore pursed his lips, considering this. “Since you say that you must fight to keep this door closed, I believe that what you are doing is a mild form of Occlumency rather than a natural part of your bond. This is good, as it means you already have a basis in it and it will make it easier for you to learn Occlumency.”

Harry nodded, unsure what else to do. Dumbledore lifted a slim book from his desk and held it out to them. “This is a simple guide on the basics of Occlumency, please read the introduction and first chapter by next Tuesday evening.” Harry took it, then flicked it open and glanced at the chapter index. Neither the introduction nor the first chapter were very long. He closed it and set it on his lap. 

“I expect it will take quite a while to master Occlumency and Legilimency, and I don’t expect you to completely master it within the year. I do imagine that you will be very skilled in it by the semester’s end, however. After you’ve gotten to the intermediate stage of both, we will move on to other things.” The two teenagers nodded, and Dumbledore moved on. “In your other extra lessons, you’ll be learning more advanced things. In Potions, you’ll be learning first how to recognize major poisons and to make their antidotes. There is little to no chance that any poison would find its way into food prepared by the house elves, but if someone were to give you outside food, the possibility is higher even if by a small bit. Professor Flitwick will be teaching you healing charms to begin with, followed by a variety of protective spells. Professor McGonagall has agreed to begin training the both of you as Animagi.”

Harry let out a gasp. “Really? Is that legal even?”

Dumbledore nodded. “There is no law to prevent minors from becoming Animagi, however you are emancipated so it does not even matter. Though, we won’t involve the Ministry unless absolutely necessary. The news of your marriage was widespread enough, it wouldn’t be wise to allow the knowledge that the two of you are Animagi to get out. I expect that to take up most of this year, so Professor McGonagall and I haven’t planned anything after that yet. Do you understand so far?”

They nodded. “Poisons and antidotes, healing and protective spells, Occlumency, and Animagi magic,” Ginny recounted. Dumbledore nodded.

“That is all for now. You will resume training with Tonks on Monday morning, so expect a message from her in the next day. If you would like, you may invite Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood to your extra classes, and I have already arranged for them to take the extra Defense lessons with you. I will see you again next Tuesday evening.”

Understanding that they were being dismissed, Ginny and Harry stood. “Thank you, Professor,” Harry said as they left the office.

“I’m glad he’s including the others,” Ginny said as they walked. “It’ll be good for them to learn to defend themselves.” 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Though I doubt Ron will want to take the extra Potions lessons.”

Ginny smiled and laughed softly. “No, probably not.”

Harry put his arm around her and drew her closer to his side. Ginny slipped her arm across his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. The corridor they were in was empty, as was most of the castle he imagined. It was Saturday, most students would be outside or in their common rooms catching up with friends. 

“Should we go find Ron and Hermione?” Ginny suggested. “Tell them about the extra classes?”

“And Neville and Luna, probably,” Harry agreed. “Dumbledore mentioned them too.”

“Luna’s going to be in the Ravenclaw dorm,” Ginny said. “How about I go get her, and you go find my brother, Neville and Hermione and we meet in the Gryffindor common room?”

Harry frowned. “Can Luna even be in our common room?”

“Oh, definitely,” Ginny said. “I’ve been to her common room plenty of times.”

“When?”

“Second year, and third year before you pulled your head out of your ass and asked me out.”

“You know, I can make you sleep on the couch.”

Ginny pecked his cheek. “You wouldn’t, love.”

Harry sighed because she was right. At the seventh floor landing, he turned to face her and gave her a swift kiss. Ravenclaw tower was in the opposite direction of Gryffindor tower, where Ron, Neville, and Hermione were likely to be. “See you in a bit,” he said.

They walked in opposite directions, and Harry listened to her mind as they went. Ravenclaw tower was closer, and he was curious as to how she expected to get in.

_It’s not that hard, you know. Don’t you know how to open a door?_

Harry rolled his eyes, but listened anyway. She reached the entrance before he was even halfway to the Fat Lady’s portrait, and he was surprised to see a simple door through her eyes. However, he noticed the lack of a door knob and the brass eagle knocker on it.

_How do you expect to open a door with no knob?_ Harry thought.

Ginny just took the knocker and rapped it sharply against the brass. Harry nearly missed a step when the eagle’s mouth opened and it spoke to Ginny.

“What question can you never answer with “yes” while remaining completely honest?”

_What._

_It’s a riddle, Harry. Answer the riddle and the door opens._

_Oh. That’s simple. Sort of. I have no clue._

Ginny shook her head at him slightly as she addressed the doorknob. _I’ve had this one before._ “Are you asleep?” she said to the eagle.

And the door opened. Harry felt slightly jealous of the fancier method as he approached the Fat Lady.

“Neverland,” Harry told her, and the painting swung forward. 

There were plenty of people in the common room, however he didn’t see Ron or Hermione. A few people waved to him and a couple called out “Hey, Potter!” He waved back with a polite smile but didn’t answer them. He took the stairs to the boys’ dorms and found his old dorm. He tried the door but it was locked.

“Ron?” he called. 

“Harry! Hi! Hang on! Ow!” Harry frowned as he stepped inside; Ron sounded distressed by something. Then the door was pulled open and Ron grinned awkwardly at him. “Hi. What’s up?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Just needed to talk to you and Hermione. Are you okay?”

“Oh, Hermione! She’s not here. She’s in her dorm. Why would she be here?” Ron’s voice was pitched an octave too high, his face was flushed, and he wouldn’t meet Harry’s eye.

Harry’s raised eyebrow became scornful rather than confused. “You’re a rotten liar, Ron.”

_Ha! I knew they were hiding something!_

_Oh, shut up Ginny._

Ron was red in the face. “I swear, she’s not here.”

Harry pushed past him and walked over to Ron’s part of the room. The curtains were half open. “Hi Hermione,” he said to her. “I expected better of you.”

Hermione looked extremely irritated. “Oh, shove off, Potter.”

Ron darted over. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he insisted. “She’s helping me with homework!”

Both Harry and Hermione then turned on him with the same disdainful expressions. Ron’s shoulders drooped. “Term hasn’t started yet,” he said. “I have no homework.”

Harry looked at Hermione and crossed his arms. “I’m slightly disappointed that you never told us, but I have to say I’m impressed you managed to get him to remove his head from the sand.”

_Ass is more like it._

Hermione shrugged. “He came to me, honest. Though I’m not complaining.”

Ron was still red in the face as he mumbled something incoherent. Harry cupped a hand to his ear. “What’s that, Ron?”

Ron sighed as he looked up. “I was being an asshole this entire time and honestly, I was tired of Fred and George telling me to get on with it and ask her out.”

Hey, he agrees with me!

“When did this happen though?” Harry asked, ignoring Ginny.

Hermione looked up at Ron with a soft smile. “He sent me a letter in July. It was actually quite romantic; he apologized for being horrible, said that he was just jealous and asked if we could try being more than friends.”

Ron was still pink in the face but Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Good for you guys. Ginny and I were considering locking you in a broom cupboard overnight, but this is a probably better solution. Though, might I suggest not making out in Ron’s dorm?”

“We weren’t making out as you so crudely put it,” Hermione corrected. “We were just talking.”

“I am not abject to the idea of making out,” Ron said.

“Shove it, you twat, I still haven’t decided,” Hermione threw a pillow at Ron, who caught it and threw it back with a smile.

“You seemed a bit more sure of yourself on the train,” he teased. Hermione went pink and turned her back on him. 

“Shove it,” Hermione muttered despite her sheepish smile. 

_Speaking of making out…_

 _What?_ Harry asked his wife.

_I found Neville._

_Really? Where?_

_In the Ravenclaw common room. With Luna. Alone._

_How big is their common room that they could hide in it?_ thought Harry with a mental frown.

_Pretty big. There’s a small library in it. In which I found our dear friends huddled behind a bookshelf. Explains why they were so antsy on the train._

_I guess so._

Harry turned his attention back to his two friends. “Ginny should be here with Neville and Luna in a minute. We wanted to talk with you guys.”

“Why with Neville and Luna too?” Ron asked.

“I’ll tell you when they get here.” Harry sat down on the bed that had been his the year before and leaned back on his hands. Ron was still pink all over his face, but Hermione’s blush had retreated into the lower halves of her cheeks. “It is about time,” he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron looked sheepish. “Yeah, yeah, and you can tell Ginny to shut up already,” he said. Harry laughed. 

_Tell him he is an asshole and he deserves a dungbeetle._

_I am not telling him that, that’s too mean and not true._

_Fine. But he’s an asshole._

“She says you’re an asshole,” Harry told Ron, who sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Figures.”

The dormitory door opened and Ginny appeared in person, followed by Neville and Luna. Neville was almost as red as Ron, with his gaze trailing on the ground, though Luna looked positively smug.

“Hello,” Ginny called. She dropped down next to Harry and kissed his cheek. He unconsciously slipped an arm around her waist and drew her closer, his attention on their four friends.

“So, Voldemort is alive,” he said. Only Luna looked startled; she hadn’t known yet, of course. He looked to her. “He came back during the Third Task. That’s why Diggory died, why Krum lost his arm.”

“But everyone said he was dead,” said Luna, her voice uncertain.

“He wasn’t,” Harry told her. “I don’t know how to explain how he wasn’t, or even if I can, but he wasn’t actually dead. And he’s back now, just weak. Professor Dumbledore figures he’s going to keep targeting me, so he’s decided to train me to defend myself properly. You four, and Ginny, are invited to train as well, since you guys are my closest friends.”

Harry caught Neville looking touched, and gave him a brief smile. “We’re taking extra lessons on Saturdays, alternating each week.”

“What courses?” Hermione asked eagerly.

“Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defense,” Ginny answered, “in that order, starting next Saturday.”

Ron wrinkled his nose at the mention of Potions, as expected. “You have to take extra lessons with Snape?” he asked in a horrified voice.

“Unfortunately. Dumbledore said we’d be starting with recognizing poisons, so hope he doesn’t try to slip one by me.”

“Will do,” Ron said with a snort.

“So do you guys want to join in?” Ginny asked. “Although, Dumbledore said he was having you take the extra Defense lessons anyway.”

“I wondered why I had a slot for Saturdays on my time-table,” Luna said.

“You got your timetable already?” Harry asked.

She nodded. “We always receive them the first day in Ravenclaw.” Harry wrinkled his own nose.

“I’d like to join all four of those, if you wouldn’t mind,” Hermione said.

“We figured you would,” Ginny laughed. 

“What are you going to be learning?” Neville asked before Hermione could say anymore.

Harry thought back to speaking with Dumbledore. “Poisons and their antidotes in Potions, healing and protective magic in Charms, dueling in Defense, and McGonagall is going to train us to be Animagi. I don’t know if Dumbledore said you guys could be Animagi though,” he added quickly at the excited look upon the four faces before him.

“He did say that it was allowed for underage wizards to learn, though,” Ginny told them. “Our first lesson is next Saturday, so you can ask McGonagall then if you’re allowed to become Animagi too.”

“I think it would be wonderful to become Animagi,” Luna said dreamily. 

“It would be so fascinating!” Hermione was practically bubbling over. “Imagine all the magic that goes into it!”

“I’ll join you for Charms and Transfiguration,” Ron said, cutting off Hermione’s excited babbling. “As well as Defense, I suppose.”

“Me too,” Neville piped up. “But I don’t want extra lessons with Snape.”

“That’s completely understandable,” Harry said. “I don’t want extra lessons with Snape.”

“What about you, Luna?” Ginny asked.

“I’ll join you for all of them, I suppose,” their friend told them. “Was that all?”

“Yeah, for now.”

Luna gave them a nod, then turned back to Neville. “I’m not done with you, you know.”

Neville went bright pink. “Er, okay.” Luna gave them a small smile, then took Neville’s hand and pulled him away. Harry held in his chuckles until the door had shut behind them, and Ginny giggled along with him. 

“Um,” Hermione mused. “What was that?”

“I think Neville’s gotten his head out of his ass too,” Ginny said, grinning at them. “I’m sure Luna will give us all the dirty details later.” Hermione began to giggle as well.

Harry went red too, because it meant he’d have to listen to said details. “Please, delay that as long as possible.”

“Are you kidding?” Ginny elbowed him. “Two of my girlfriends gain the boys they’ve been chasing in the same week, I’m not delaying that conversation any minute longer than necessary.”

Harry looked down at his feet and shook his head. “How did I end up with this?” he mumbled. Ginny hugged him tightly, her grinning face burying into his shoulder.

“You were so unfortunate as to be born with me in your head,” she reminded him. Harry looked up at her and kissed her quickly.

“Fortunate,” he corrected. “Extremely fortunate.” Ginny blushed a little.

“Oh, god, stop them before you rot out all of our teeth,” Hermione said while Ron faked a gag. Harry stuck his tongue out at both of them, and Ron looked up to make a face at him just as Ginny leaned in and put her mouth around Harry’s tongue. Ron nearly gagged for real and Harry grinned.

“Oh, get out already!” Ron grumbled, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling them both up. He shoved them to the door and out of it. “I don’t ever want to see your faces again!” he added, shutting the door firmly in said faces.

Harry caught Ginny’s eye and they both laughed. “Come on,” Harry said, tugging her upwards. They reached their room and collapsed onto the sofa with laughter.

“His face!” Ginny breathed out, flopping back against Harry’s side. “Oh, that was priceless!”

Harry kissed her cheek. “I’m more concerned with why he threw us out,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered, but gave him a sideways smirk.

“Oh, really?” she nearly purred, her voice was so soft. “And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it?”

Harry’s arms tightened around her waist and he nuzzled his nose into her neck. “What do you suggest I do, Mrs. Potter?” He heard Ginny draw in her breath when he called her by his name, and he grinned. “After all, you’ve made my best mate irritated with me.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” Ginny giggled.

“Yes?” Harry said questioningly, looking up at her. She was blushing still, and he could feel the speed of her heart through their bond. 

“Carry on, then,” she murmured. Harry kissed her cheek once more, then the edge of her jaw. 

“I’m rubbish at flirting,” he whispered, his breath falling on her ear.

“You’re not rubbish at kissing,” she said.

“Are you dropping hints?” he murmured. He pressed his lips to her ear.

Ginny shivered again, but said: “I would never be so brazen, Mr. Potter.”

“I disagree.”

Ginny leaned back to look at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners with her smile. “Do you?” Harry nodded, then pressed a kiss to her neck. She inhaled, making a soft humming noise, and Harry moved to the nape of her neck, placing feathery kisses along her skin back up to her jaw.

“You’re very brazen,” he said.

“Oh, just kiss me already.”

Harry smirked. “Getting antsy?”

Ginny tried to catch his lips but he ducked and pressed his nose to her hair. “What are you doing?” Ginny asked with half a laugh.

“I have no clue.”

“Then why don’t you kiss me?”

“I am kissing you!” he protested. To prove his point, he kissed a spot just beneath her ear. “See?” he whispered.

“Harry…” her voice was soft.

“Yes?” 

“I’ve half a mind to hit you.”

“Is the other half out of breath?”

“Just that half.”

“Damn, I was trying to occupy your whole mind.” 

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“I don’t get to kiss you?”

“Hmm…” Harry pretended to consider this as he inhaled the scent of her hair. He pressed another kiss to her jaw. “No.”

“You’re unfair,” she whispered. 

Harry, emboldened by her soft voice and the way she was holding his hands so tightly, gently nipped at the lobe of her ear. He felt her draw in a gasp, and closed his mouth on the ear, sucking just a little bit.

“Harry…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re very unfair.”

He smiled against the side of her neck. His lips found the crevice of where her neck met her shoulder, and kissed it, then, in instinct, his mouth opened and sucked on the skin slightly. Ginny’s hands squeezed his, her eyes were long ago shut and she was tensed. 

“Am I unfair?”

“Hmm…” was all she said. Harry dragged his mouth up from her neck to her ear.

“You’re probably right,” he whispered. Then he jumped up and away from the couch.

“Harry James Potter you come back here this instant!”

Harry laughed and ran around the couch; Ginny chased him, but he slipped past her and darted into the other side of the room. 

"I will murder you!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" he teased. She tried to grab his arm, however he side-stepped her and ran into the kitchenette. Ginny ran after him, which was when he realized there was only one way out of the kitchen. 

"Ha!" she said, grabbing him by the waist. Ginny pressed his back to the counter, then stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

"Oh, you caught me," Harry whined.

"And you're an asshole too," she said firmly.

"Yet you're still breathing heavily and flushed."

Ginny scowled at him, or tried to. She was still smiling. Harry brushed his knuckles over her cheek, and her eyes fluttered closed again as she pressed her cheek to his hand. Harry pushed his other hand through her hair, then kissed her forehead. He put a hand to her shoulder, then flipped their positions and ended up with her back against the wall. He pressed his mouth to the crook of her neck, then her jaw, before catching her lips with his. She practically melted, and his own knees were shaking. He could feel her heart beating and it was in time with his, their minds so wrapped around each other they didn’t notice it. Her fingers held fistfuls of his robes, and his hands pressed into the wall to keep upright. Harry pulled his lips down to her neck again and found another spot beneath her ear to suck on. Ginny’s grip on his robes were like she was gripping a lifeline, and maybe she was. He bit her ear and the sound of her gasp drove him wild.

“Harry,” she whispered, and it sent shivers through him. He kissed her, more roughly and with increasing need. She pulled her lips away so he went back to her ear. “Harry!”

“Shh,” he murmured, pressing kisses along her jaw.

“You – you should slow down.”

He did, he stopped, pulling away with heavy breathing. “What?”

Ginny relaxed her hands, pulling them to his shoulders to smooth out the front of his robe. “Erm, we should… we probably shouldn’t … do that here…”

Her mind was still fogged over, and Harry hadn’t even realized that his glasses had been pushed up in his hair until he leaned back and her image became fuzzy. Ginny pulled them down for him and let her fingers run down his cheek to land on his shoulder again.

“Erm, right, sorry,” he mumbled, stepping back. Ginny grabbed him around the neck, suddenly pinker than before, and looked embarrassed.

“I can’t stand up right,” she muttered. Harry half smiled and put an arm around her waist.

“Glad to know I can still make you weak at the knees,” he said.

“Oh, shut up. This is entirely your fault.” 

“As I recall, you kissed me first.”

“You made it intense!” she scolded.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. _And you’re complaining?_

Her flush deepened. “No. But… just not here. Not near our room.”

His gaze drifted to his feet and he too reddened. “You’re probably right.”

“But we could go find a broom cupboard,” she suggested.

Harry chuckled, dropping onto the sofa. “You wish,” he said. “I’m very picky about when and where I snog.”

Ginny huffed as she sat down beside him; she drew her legs up under her and curled up against his side. “Fine then. What do you want to do instead?”

Harry shrugged. “What time is it?”

Ginny glanced at the mantle and read the time. “Threeish.”

Harry began to run his fingers through her hair. “Do you think… when would we be ready?”

Ginny inhaled deeply to delay her answer. “I don’t know.”

“You said that we should wait…”

“Yeah.”

“What are we waiting for?”

Ginny looked up at him and her brow was furrowed in thought. “Do you not want to wait?” she asked softly.

Harry immediately regretted his words. “No, I agree, we’re young right now, I just… we’re already married, we’ll be together for the rest of our lives and we know that. So what are we waiting for?”

Ginny’s gaze fell to the floor. “I don’t really know.”

Harry, feeling bad for making her uncomfortable, drew her closer and gently kissed her temple. “I’m not saying we should stop waiting,” he murmured.

Ginny nodded, still not looking at him, and cuddled into his side. “We’re having a wedding over Christmas,” she said. “Weddings are followed by wedding nights.”

Harry’s cheeks warmed, but Ginny looked up at him and her gaze was soft. “Then. We’ll wait until then. Then it’s special and not just ‘oh, we’ve been married for four years and we didn’t know’.”

“Agreed,” he said, holding out a hand. She took it, and they shook. Ginny settled back on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Harry, having just had a thought occur to him, furrowed his brow.

“Ginny?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I going to have get Remus and Sirius to give me condoms?”

Ginny’s face immediately went very red and she elbowed him in the ribs. “Harry Potter, you did not just ask me that!”

“It’s a legitimate concern!” he protested. “We don’t want you to get pregnant, right?”

Ginny, still pink, avoided his eye. “There is such a thing as birth control potions. Those Muggle things don’t work all the time anyway, they’re mostly to prevent diseases, which neither of us have thank you very much.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Harry rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just wondering.”

Ginny buried her flushed face in his shoulder. “Oh, stop it, Harry,” she grumbled. He let out a nervous laugh.

“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked. She nodded, and he chuckled again. “Just imagine what will happen right before the wedding. Your mum is going to give you a lecture on the subject.”

Ginny groaned again and covered her ears. Harry considered his own statement, then looked back at her. “You think Sirius and Remus will give me the same lecture?”

“I think they’re more likely to give you a lecture on how to do it well.”

“Ginny!”

She raised a hand and showed him her middle finger. Harry took her hand and adjusted it so it was her ring finger pointing upwards, and he kissed her hand. 

“Just shut up,” Ginny mumbled. “Before you make us both die of awkwardness.”

“Fine,” Harry muttered. Ginny hugged his chest and settled, her eyes drifting shut. They were quiet for a while, just listening to the sound of each other breathing.

“Where do you want to go on honeymoon?” he asked.

“What?”

“Honeymoon, we have to have one.”

Ginny sighed. _Why did we have to be so weird as to be married as teenagers?_ “I don’t know, love.”

“We could go to France.”

“Hmm.”

“Paris, the city of love.”

“Harry, I’ll hit you.”

“Hit on me, is more like.” Ginny let out a groan and he laughed. “Well, what about the Caribbean? A cruise? Or Jamaica.”

“I think it would be incredibly awkward to go somewhere on honeymoon and have everyone stare at the two teenagers acting like newlyweds.”

“So we go somewhere private. What about renting a private beach?”

“You’d have to rent five just to get the right amount of zero people.”

“Probably. I wouldn’t mind though.”

“We’re not having a wedding for four months, Harry,” Ginny reminded him. “We can talk about this when it’s actually close to the right time.”

“Fine.”

Ginny dropped her head onto his shoulder again and closed her eyes. “We are napping now, so shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were about to.”

Harry rolled his eyes, because he had been about to ask if they would have their wedding in a church or elsewhere, and remained quiet. They ended up dozing off for a while, waking up in time to get dinner before returning to go to bed. The next day, a Sunday, they hung out in the common room with friends to catch up before classes began. Monday morning, they were woken at the crack of dawn by Tonks who dragged them to the Room of Requirement before breakfast. The first week of classes pounced upon them, each day beginning early to exercise with Tonks for just under an hour, followed by their classes and interactions with the students and teachers. No one flat out approached them to ask if it was true they were married, as it wasn’t needed anymore; the news that it was true had spread and the whispers concerning them were frequent. Harry did his best to ignore them, but he noticed the glares given to Ginny by other girls of their year and even older ones. He began walking with his arm around her at all times.

Before they knew it Friday had finished and Saturday morning dawned on them. They had a perfect view of the sun rising over the mountains in the mornings, and it was one of the things Harry began to look forward too. Tonks’s arrival moments before dawn wasn’t, but he couldn’t help that. That morning, however, they were awake before Tonks knocked on their door. That was the day they would begin Animagus training.

 

A/N: _Yay fluffy making out and Animagus training! Let me say again though, this story will never contain smut, but pre-smut will probably be a thing; y’know, the making out before stumbling towards the bedroom. I just don’t do smut cause I think it’s gross so if you dislike the lack of sex too bad for you._


	35. The Joy of Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Thirty-Five  
The Joy of Madness  
Ginny**

Saturday after their exercising with Tonks and breakfast, Harry and Ginny assembled the others and made their way to Professor McGonagall’s office on the first floor. Hermione kept a running commentary the whole way there on the various difficulties associated with becoming an Animagus, to the point that when they arrived at their teacher’s office, nearly all of them breathed a sigh of relief that Hermione had to fall silent.

“Enter!” McGonagall’s voice commanded. Harry pushed the door open and they filed into the room. They found Professor McGonagall sitting at her desk, and Sirius standing next to the desk, looking rather smug with himself.

“Hi, Padfoot,” Harry said.

“Morning,” he said with a tip of an imaginary hat.

Professor McGonagall gave her wand a lazy wave and six chairs dropped onto the floor of her office. “Sit,” she said. They sat. The Scottish woman eyed them all appraisingly before she spoke next. “The art,” she began in a voice that was almost reverent, “of Transfiguration is one of the most complex magics there is. That being said, there is none more difficult than that of the magic involved in becoming an Animagus.”

Ginny gave a nod, her breath held in anticipation. McGonagall cast a stern gaze over them once more.

“It is rightly deserved all of the legal hoops that the Ministry has put in place as a preventive measure. To think lightly of becoming an Animagus is to think lightly of your own mortality. One simple mistake could leave you permanently transfigured, disfigured even. You must be precise and careful with each and every step. As long as you follow my instructions and exercise caution, you will succeed with no harm done. Do I make this clear?”

“Yes, professor,” the six of them replied with excitement. They were about to begin.

McGonagall flicked her wand, and pamphlets lifted themselves off the desk and floated to each of them. “You will read through these before our next meeting, they contain information on all of the procedure involved in becoming an Animagus. You six, however, will not be registered unless the Headmaster deems it necessary. You shan’t share any of this information, and you shan’t blab about learning Animagus magic. This endeavor is to be kept secret so as to maintain an element of surprise. You are learning this so that in a situation where you find yourself needing to escape, you will be able to transform and slip away undetected.”

“Yes, professor,” they said again.

McGonagall leaned forward in her chair. “To become an Animagus takes months. Mr. Black and his friends managed it over the course of two and a half years without any aid, therefore I believe you six will be fully capable of achieving a full transformation before the end of this school year. Once you have all of the magic in your minds and you know what to do, it will not be that hard. The difficult part is discovering the form and learning the magic.” McGonagall’s gaze flicked, and Ginny turned to see Hermione with her hand raised. McGonagall nodded to her.

“How do we know what to transform into?” Hermione asked.

“There is a spell,” McGonagall answered, “that coupled with a particular potion will reveal your Animagus form to you. Every person has the potential to become an Animagus, however very few have the required strength to do so. Your forms will be linked to key pieces of your personality and strengths.”

“How did you get a cat?” Ron asked her. McGonagall gave him a patient, albeit small, smile.

“I believe it was due to my own stubbornness and personal pride,” she replied. “Cats are very regal creatures, you know.”

Ron nodded slowly. Ginny caught the teacher’s eye. “Can you become any animal?” Ginny asked.

McGonagall tilted her head to the side. “A person’s Animagus form is usually very specific, however, I’ve heard of people with the possibility of more than one form, though there’s only one legend speaking of a wizard with the power to transform into more than one animal.”

“No, I meant is there a limit on the kind of animal a person might have?” Ginny rephrased. “Could you become a magical creature?”

McGonagall nodded in understand. “Given the required magical power, yes you could, theoretically. Godric Gryffindor was rumored to be able to transform into a hippogriff.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Was Gryffindor an Animagus? I didn’t know.”

“There are strong suggestions to it in records, however, as I said, his form was never made certain.”

“You said there was a legend about a wizard who could become more than one creature,” Harry said. “Who was it?”

“Ambrosius Merlin,” McGonagall answered. “He was said to be able to transform into both a phoenix and a large monitor lizard.”

“A lizard?” Ron repeated.

“Yes, though at the time of Merlin, the specific species was actually unknown so they assumed it was a magical creature of some kind, however, it was simply a komodo dragon.”

“A dragon?” said Harry. “Simply a dragon?”

“No, a komodo dragon,” Hermione corrected him. “It’s not an actual dragon.”

“Merlin could turn into a komodo dragon?” Harry posed.

“According to myth,” Professor McGonagall said. “It’s possible that it was his only form, or that he turned into a phoenix, or that he had the ability for both. It was also said of his wife that she had more than one Animagus form, however, the likelihood that she was an Animagus at all is low.” The professor folded her hands together and eyed them. “The potion you will need to brew to discover your Animagus form will take quite some time to be completed, so we will start on it in a moment, but first I want to go over the theory of the magic behind all of this. The potion and spell go hand in hand to reveal your Animagus form, and both are rather complex.”

Ginny leaned forward in her chair, intent on listening. 

“The first spell you will learn is called Cerritulium Fungos Animaliam, which will reveal your Animagus form to you.”

“Wait, fungos is the Latin word for mushrooms, isn’t it?” Neville interjected. McGonagall nodded.

“It is indeed.”

“Why is it in the title?” asked Neville.

“Because mushrooms are a key ingredient in the potion to go with the spell.”

“Oh.”

McGonagall waited a moment, as if to see if he had anything else to say, before going on. “You must learn the spell in order to perform it upon yourself once you’ve taken the potion, so we will go over it before beginning to brew the potion.”

“What’s the potion called?” Harry asked.

“Uyoga Isiyo ya Kawaida,” McGonagall answered. Sirius sniggered, and she gave him a look. He sobered, and looked down at his feet. 

“Professor,” Hermione started.

“Yes?”

“Isn’t…” she hesitated. “Isn’t Uyoga Isiyo ya Kawaida a hallucinogenic potion?”

Ginny looked at Hermione, then at McGonagall. Suddenly, the inclusion of the word ‘mushrooms’ made more sense.

Professor McGonagall inclined her head. “It is, in fact.”

“What are we brewing a drug for?” Harry asked.

“The potion’s original use was for Animagus transformation, Mr. Potter, and the common use of it these days is a treatment of schizophrenia. Whether or not it can be used as a drug is not the point.”

Harry was slightly humbled by this, and fell silent.

_Lots of potions are addictive, you know,_ Ginny thought.

_Well, yeah, but this is an actual hallucination-producing-thing._

_Overdosing on Pepper-up Potions cause hallucinations._

_What?_

_Pepper-up Potions, they can cause hallucinations if you take too much of it._

_I stand corrected._

_You’re sitting._

Harry elbowed her in the ribs, causing McGonagall to break off and frown at them. She shook her head and continued. “Cerritulium Fungos Animalium takes quite a while to learn, so I’ve written down a list of titles for you to study it between now and our next meeting. The theory of it is that the spell searches your magical core to find your inner animal, then presents it to you through the hallucination caused by Uyoga Isiyo ya Kawaida.”

“Inner animal?” Ron questioned.

“Spirit animal,” Luna said, speaking for the first time since entering the office. Professor McGongall nodded to her.

“The Native America cultures had similar thoughts on the subject,” the Transfiguration teacher said. “The original use of this spell and potion to find an Animagus form was by an African medicine man, and it was quite by accident according to legend. However, an almost identical potion and spell are found in the mythos of the Cherokee tribe, and even in an Aboriginal tribe in south-eastern Australia. I assume that it was linked to the discovery of a spirit guide or spirit animal, and native wizards thought it a useful way to become that animal.”

Professor McGonagall adjusted herself in her chair and leaned back. “To get deeper into the theory of this spell, you must understand what your magical core is.”

“It’s the power we hold in ourselves,” Ron said.

“Yes,” answered McGonagall, “but also no. Your magical core is your essence within magic.”

“Within magic?” Harry queried.

“Within magic, yes. This theory of where magic comes from is an elective for N.E.W.T. level students, however, you’ll get a brief version of it now. The accepted idea in this era is that magic is a layer of energy throughout our world, going in and through everything, a power that encompasses all living things. Your magical core is the same energy that is concentrated within your body, tied to your soul. The magical core then fuels your aura, which interacts with magic outside of your body and gives you the ability to use magic.”

Harry glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eye. She shushed him mentally. 

“The magical core is in turn fueled by the energy your body absorbs from the outside, meaning that your power increases with thicker layers of energy, which is why historic magical places such as Stonehenge leave lasting effects on even Muggles.”

“And your spirit guide is the part of your soul that maintains your magical core,” Luna said.

McGonagall frowned at her. “There is no real spirit guide, Ms. Lovegood. Inner animals are merely the animal with which your magical core is most identifies with.”

Luna merely shrugged, her same dreamy smile upon her face. McGonagall raised one eyebrow for a moment, then seemed to push it aside and went on. “Well, the point is that a witch or wizard’s magical core is what enables them to use magic, controlling it with their aura, and is fueled by magic. Magic is an energy just like electricity, however significantly stronger, and is a part of all living things. Anything that grew has magic in it, even if that thing no longer grows.”

“Like your desk?” Neville asked.

“Yes, like the desk,” Professor McGonagall said, “or those chairs, or the cotton in your clothes. Albeit very little, they have a magical signature.”

_Who knew so much theory went into turning into a cat,_ Harry thought. Ginny shushed him again.

“The way this all relates is that within each magical core, theorized is that there is a spirit animal of sorts, that is the shape and embodiment of your magical core.”

“The spirit guide,” Luna mused.

McGonagall did not immediately reply. “The theories that go into Animagus magic are vast and extensive; most of it dating back to when magic was gifted upon us by deities that controlled the weather and determined harvests. They include the idea of a spirit guide, however, that is implausible."

"You determined the existence of an animal in our souls," Luna said. "The animal that is the image of our magical core."

"Yes, however, that does not denote it the power that is alluded to in the myths of spirit guides."

Luna fell silent, and Ginny thought that it was more out of acceptance of her inability to change the professor's mind than surrender. Professor McGonagall turned her gaze again, sweeping it over them before leaving it on Harry.

"The spell, Cerritulium Fungos Animalium, is, as I said earlier, a very complex one. After taking the potion, the spell must be completed within three minutes or else it will not be able to gain control of the hallucination. The incantation is repeated three times slowly, while moving the wand tip over your heart in a counter-clockwise infinity sign." The professor raised her own wand, demonstrating the motion. "After the third repetition, you take the wand tip and press it to your chest hard enough to make it hurt slightly. At that point, the hallucinations will have begun and the spell completed."

"What is the incantation?" Harry asked.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Witiri Uyoga Tengeneza Wanyama."

They blinked, staring at her silently. Sirius nodded slowly, looking down at his feet with a resigned smile.

"What is it?" Ginny said.

McGonagall began again, speaking very slowly to sound it out phonetically. "We-tyr-ee, oo-yoh-gah, ten-geh-nez-uh, wahn-ee-ahm-ah."

Sirius grinned at them. "Took me over an hour to just pronounce it correctly."

McGonagall cleared her throat. "I've written it down, both phonetically and normally, and you should practice saying it between now and the next meeting. Now, stand, we will be transferring to the Potions room to begin brewing Uyoga Isiyo ya Kawaida."

As she rose, they did too, and the eight, six students and two professors, left the office and walked to the stairs leading past the basements and to the dungeons. They found the Potions classroom, empty, desks cleared and bared, but for one at the very front of the classroom where a single, large cauldron sat upon a burner beside a wooden crate.

Professor McGonagall made her way to it, and they filed out in front of the desk as she stood in front. "Uyoga Isiyo ya Kawaida is a complicated potion, and it will take quite a while to begin. The final stage, however, is convenient for us."

"After it's brewed, it has to ferment," Sirius said. He was leaning on the desk, propped up on elbows with his chin in his hand. Ginny wrinkled a nose.

"And we have to drink it?" she asked.

"Yes," McGonagall said. "It does not have too a horrible taste."

"Yeuch," Sirius said. Their teacher gave him a piercing glare for a moment, before turning to the crate. She tapped it with her wand, and the nails in the lid released so that she was able to open it. She withdrew from it a mushroom, bearing a thin, long stalk and a fat cap. Sirius fell silent.

Professor McGonagall turned to them, holding aloft the mushroom. "Can you tell me what this is, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Erm, it's a mushroom."

"Yes, it is. Could you tell me any more?"

Neville reddened. "No, I'm afraid I couldn't."

"Very well, that's alright. This is a kind of mushroom referred to as a psychedelic mushroom, it's the ingredient in Uyoga Isiyo ya Kawaida that gives it its hallucinogenic properties. This particular mushroom is commonly called Delirium, though its proper name is Vesania Gaudium. It grows only on high mountains that are within a warm climate, making rather rare these days. Due to its potency and rarity, Vesania Gaudium is a Class A restricted substance, so be grateful that Professor Dumbledore managed to acquire them.” 

“We’re supposed to drink a fermented potion made from magic ‘shrooms?” Harry said.

“You are,” McGonagall answered. “Though you needn’t worry, the potion, while highly hallucinogenic, causes no harm to the body.”

Harry met Ginny’s gaze from the corner of his eye. _I’m slightly worried._

Ginny took his hand and squeezed it. _They wouldn’t give it to us if it would hurt us._

_Well, yeah, but we actually have to drink magic mushroom stew!_

_Do you want to be an Animagus or not?_

_Yes, I do!_

_Then drink your mushrooms._

Harry snorted, causing the others to look at him. Harry shook his head quickly, then looked down at his feet.

“Right then,” Professor McGonagall said. “We shall begin.”

She flicked her wand, and a potion kit appeared on the table. “I will instruct you, and you will prepare the potion.”

“I thought this was Transfiguration,” Ron mumbled as they stepped closer. 

“This is Animagus preparation,” McGonagall corrected him. “Be grateful you have the opportunity.”

Ron was mollified and they were able to begin. Professor McGonagall had them fill the cauldron with water first, then into it went sprigs of mint and lavender, juniper berries, and lemon grass. The water was brought to a boil, and after it had bubbled for five minutes she had them turn the heat down and add in more ingredients; crushed snake fangs, asphodel heads, powdered bark of off an acacia tree. The perfumed steam at first smelled pleasant, until they had to add the mushrooms, at which point the scent was muddled and made bitter. Then came the blood of a goat and a snake skin that had been ground to powder, and Ginny felt nauseated by the mere thought of having to drink what was in that cauldron. No amount of lavender and lemon grass would fix the smell coming from the cauldron, especially after they had to add in more blood, this time from a lion. 

It took over an hour before they had completed the potion and it was ready to be fermented. By the time they were finished, the cauldron smelled like African poppies and the goat’s blood, which was the most pungent thing Ginny had ever encountered. 

“I am not looking forward to drinking that,” Neville said as Hermione put a lid on the cauldron.

“You shouldn’t,” Sirius told him. McGonagall gave him a scolding look before tapping the cauldron with her wand. 

“It is sealed, and in a month will be ready to drink,” she told them. “For now, that is all. Take these papers, and between now and our next meeting, read at least one of the titles and the pamphlet I gave you at the beginning.” The professor conjured a stack of papers, and they each took one. “Have a good day.” With that, Professor McGonagall swept from the Potions room, leaving them with Sirius.

“That potion is going to be the most disgusting thing you’ve ever tasted,” he said. “And you’re all going to get high as balls.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Ginny commented dryly.


	36. Toadstools and Toads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _P.S. curse word warning, the words asshole(s) and f*** has been added to the vocabulary, as both Ginny and Harry have potty mouths when disgruntled. I like that word, disgruntled. Also vexed. Vexed is a nice one. And cross is good too. Hmm? Oh, you want me to shut up and get on with it? Hmph. Consider me vexed._

**Chapter Thirty-Six  
Toadstools and Toads  
Ginny**

The rest of Saturday itself was spent doing nothing particularly of interest, however Sunday was not. During breakfast that morning, Angelina Johnson approached Harry with a determined expression.

“We’re having an emergency Quidditch practice today, Potter,” she said. “As soon as you’re capable, report to the pitch for training.”

“Already?” Harry asked. “It’s only the second week!” 

“The last practice we had was two years ago!” Angelina reminded him. “We’re out of shape.”

“That’s not our fault, the whole Triwizard Tournament messed up the schedule.”

“Regardless, we haven’t played together in ages; our skills as a team have rusted. Besides, we’ve got to discuss tryouts for the new Keeper.”

Harry let out a sigh. “Fine. What time?”

“You’re eating now, so wait an hour before coming.” With that, Angelina walked off, and Harry turned to Ginny with a huff.

“You love Quidditch,” she said before he could speak.

“Well, yeah, but –”

“You haven’t played in over a year.”

“But –”

“How do you expect to win if you don’t practice?” Ginny asked, turning to face him. Harry glowered.

_You’re as bad as Wood was._

Ginny leaned over and pecked his lips. “Just finish eating, the sooner you do the sooner you’ll be ready to fly.”

He rolled his eyes but obediently turned back to his plate of food. What will you do while I’m in practice?

Probably start on homework, if Hermione gets to me in time. Or maybe I’ll go and draw or paint up in our room.

Harry stopped, turning back to face her. “What will happen if Angelina keeps us for longer than a few hours?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think she’d keep you for five whole hours?”

“Wood sometimes made us practice for longer than three hours.”

“That’s not five, love.”

“But what if she does?”

“I’ll keep an eye on the clock and if you’re not done after three hours, I’ll come and see how you’re doing. I’m sure Angelina won’t mind if you pause for a moment to give your wife a kiss.”

Harry snorted. “She’d probably yell at me if I’m not quick enough.”

Ginny caught his eye with a small smirk. “So be quick,” she whispered. Harry’s amused smile shifted and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. She shot him a warm smile of her own and resumed her breakfast. 

“We should ask Dumbledore about our watches soon,” Harry commented. “It’s been a while.”

“He’s probably been caught up in all the mess with getting us private rooms,” she replied. “We can ask him next time we see him.”

_That’ll be Tuesday, right?_

Ginny nodded. _At eight thirty, I think._

Harry yawned widely. “At least I’ve got an hour before I have to report to wake up.”

Ginny pointed to the coffee pot to his left. “There’s the caffeine, have fun.”

Harry rolled his eyes but poured himself a coffee. “You’re real helpful, you know.”

“That’s my job, love.”

He shook his head at her as he added cream and sugar. 

They finished eating not long later, and returned to Gryffindor tower where they found Hermione pulling Ron along towards the portrait hole.

“Going off to find a secluded corner?” Harry asked them.

Hermione blushed. “As a matter of fact, we’re going to the library to study. You should come too, both of you.”

Harry shook his head. “Can’t, Angelina’s called us in for Quidditch practice.”

Ron’s gloomy expression shifted. “Quidditch? Hey, aren’t they looking for a Keeper right now?”

“Yeah, tryouts are next week, I think, but Angelina wants us to prepare.”

Ron opened his mouth again, however Hermione cut him off. “Well, Ginny, you ought to come anyway. We could help you watch the time since Dumbledore hasn’t given you back your watches yet.”

“Sure,” Ginny said. “That’s probably a good idea. I’ve got to get my things, I’ll meet you in the library.”

“See you there,” Hermione called, stepping past them and through the portrait hole. Ron looked at Ginny with a disgruntled expression.

“Now I actually have to study,” he told her.

“Well, of course you do, that’s why you’re going.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Of course it isn’t; but since you’ll be there, she’ll actually focus on homework –”

“And not make out with you?” Ginny snorted. “Ron, just go. Hermione’s waiting.”

Ron huffed once more and moved through the portrait hole. Harry took Ginny’s hand and they took the several flights of steps up to their rooms. 

“Do you want to wait off your meal up here or in the library?” Ginny asked him as she got her book bag.

“If I wait in the library, I’ll have to study,” Harry said.

“If you wait here, you’ll be on your own,” Ginny replied. 

“Yeah, but we could just sit here for an hour.”

“And do what?” she asked him. 

“I dunno.”

Ginny rolled her eyes as she opened her bag to check its contents. “I’m going to go meet Hermione in the library; we’ve got an essay to write for Muggle Studies about Canada.”

“Why Canada?” Harry asked. “All they’ve done is invent maple syrup.”

Ginny shot him a scornful look. He appeared remorseful, and she went back to her bag. She cast aside her Defense and Potions books, then her Charms textbook and added a thick roll of parchment. “It’s due Wednesday, but considering our lives, I won’t have time to finish it unless I start now.”

“So start in twenty minutes, after you’ve spent some quality time with your husband!” Harry insisted.

“I’ve spent all day with you so far!” Ginny laughed. “And last night, and yesterday, and the day before.”

Harry flopped onto the bed and pouted up at her. “Pwease?”

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “Really, Harry?”

“One kiss.”

She shook her head in both exasperation and amusement, but leaned down and pressed her lips to his briefly. “There.”

“That was barely a second!” he protested.

Ginny closed her bag and hefted it onto her shoulder. “Are you coming with me to the library or not?”

Harry sighed, but sat up and stood. “Fine. Let me grab some books.”

“You can read through my eyes if you’d rather,” she offered.

Harry considered this. “That would mean I wouldn’t have to deal with books. Yeah, sure.” They started towards the exit, and Harry took her bag from her and draped it over his own shoulder. Ginny rolled her eyes but let him be chivalrous for the moment. They left Gryffindor tower for the library, waving to Neville as they passed him on the stairs. They found Hermione already buried in a book bearing the Canadian flag and Ron staring blankly at the ceiling. 

“Hi,” Ginny said softly.

“Oh, here, I got two copies of this book,” Hermione said, holding out one of the said books to Ginny. “Professor Burbage recommended it.”

“Thanks,” Ginny said, drawing up a chair to the table. 

“I thought you were going to Quidditch practice, Harry,” Ron said.

“Angelina told me to wait for breakfast to settle first,” Harry replied in a whisper. Madam Pince had just passed by their table, holding her feather duster like a rifle and glaring at them and their hushed conversation. Hermione pressed a finger to her lips and returned to her book.

Ginny took out parchment, quill and ink and propped the book open on the stack of other books Hermione had set on the table and prepared a note sheet. Harry dragged his chair to hers and leaned his head on her arm to appear as if he was reading over her shoulder, while in actuality he was zoning out. The book was fortunately somewhat interesting, so Ginny’s sense of time blurred a little, to the point that it felt like only a few minutes when Harry finally stood up and stretched. 

“I’d better get going,” he said to them in a whisper. “Angelina will have my head if I’m late.”

“Oh, alright then,” Ginny said distractedly. Harry leaned down; resting a hand on the back of her chair and slipping a finger under her chin, he tilted her face upwards to meet his.

“I love you,” he murmured. Ginny gave him a warm smile.

“Love you too, Harry.”

“See you later,” Ron said to Harry as he stepped away from the table, sounding only a little bit envious. Her husband gave them a little two-fingered salute as he turned and vanished into the stacks.

Ginny dropped her gaze back to the book in front of her and focused her eyes. The absence of Harry’s head on her shoulder felt cold, a tiny, nagging feeling to remind her of the concern they had shared earlier. What would happen if they lost track of time?

She shook her head in an effort to force it blank; she had studying. Ginny re-centered her gaze on the page and found her place once more.

It didn’t take long for her to gather enough information to complete the assignment, so she put aside the book and note sheet in order to work on homework for the next day’s Potions class, the first of that semester. Snape had given a reading assignment prior to the start of classes, on the classification of different potions. 

_Harry, perhaps you ought to half listen while I read so you can just skim through it tonight._

_Probably a good idea._

She gave a little nod as she cracked open the book and found the correct page and slipped into reading again.

It was nearly noon when Ginny began hearing Ron’s stomach growling. She raised her eyes from her book, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Did you say something?” she asked him.

Ron flushed. “Shut up,” he mumbled. Then his stomach rumbled again.

Ginny rolled her eyes; “If you want to go for lunch, you can.”

Ron looked up at Hermione, who was paying them no attention and was engrossed in her book. Ginny wondered briefly how on Earth Canada could be so interesting.

“’Mione?” Ron asked in a whisper. He reached over and tapped the top of her book. Hermione jumped a little in her seat, then looked up at him.

“What?” she whispered.

“Ginny suggested we go get lunch,” Ron said.

“I didn’t suggest we get lunch, I suggested you get it seeing as your stomach is imitating an Erumpent.”

Hermione glanced at her wristwatch, then ripped a small strip of paper from her note sheet and tucked it into her book before shutting it. “We should probably all go. Ginny, do you want to share this copy or check out your own?”

“I looked through it enough already,” Ginny said. “But I think I’ll wait for Harry to finish practice to have lunch, you two go ahead.”

“You sure?” Ron asked, already rising from his seat.

“Mhmm, I need to finish this assignment.”

“Alright,” Hermione said softly; she began to gather up her books and papers, while Ron stood by her chair bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “We’ll see you later then, Gin,” Hermione added as she pushed the last of her things into her bag and pushed back her chair.

“Bye,” Ginny whispered as they left. After they’d vanished into the book stacks, Ginny dropped her gaze back to the book and tried to focus on the words. She found the specifics of how potions were dubbed class A restricted versus class A dangerous quite dull.

_Maybe you could try reading it in a funny voice_ ; Harry’s thought drifted into her mind, and she caught a glimpse of his view, looking down on the playing field while he floated lazily above the chasers doing passes.

_Haha,_ Ginny replied with dry amusement. 

_Just trying to ease the tension,_ Harry mused; she felt a little swoop in her stomach as he suddenly went into a dive at the sight of gold near the grass. 

Ginny rolled her eyes and put aside the conversation to focus again. The tiny respite had refreshed her concentration a little, making the sight of the droning text a little less repulsive. However, it wasn’t long before her focus began to slip again, indeed her eyelids began to droop; the text before her pinged at a frequency in her brain that reverberated at a slow and sleepy tone. Ginny yawned, then leaned her head onto her arm to stare at the page, though it was becoming increasingly dim.

Ginny attempted to focus her gaze on the page, however she’d lost her place so she pulled the book closer and flicked back a page. She ran her finger down it, looking for something she recognized, but the words felt foreign. Ginny fixed her gaze on the second to last paragraph, and was startled to see that it had nothing to do with the classification of potions at all.

“Little concrete evidence is known about his wife, only that she was some years younger than him and from another land, most likely Western Europe. The details surrounding her existence are shrouded in mystery, almost as though her husband wished her hidden from the eye of the public. The majority of legends agree that she was of small stature and fair of face, though details such as eye color or hair color or even her pitch of voice vary. Another fact we know for certain is that she was of a quiet disposition, preferring to remain silent while her husband dealt with the public affairs heaped upon him thanks to his position in government. One legend in particular, however, disagrees with this; stating that not only was she as vocal as he in government, but that she was his source of information due to her rather peculiar gift of prophecy. This legend claims that both she and her husband were seen as equal in wisdom, and that their king frequently requested her advice on situations where a clear outcome was not seen. 

“Unfortunately, one other concrete fact is that of the nature of her death. Most speculate it to be mere days before her husband, others a matter of weeks, but the nature is defined as incredibly violent, even for the times. Records state that soldiers tortured her extensively before finally burning her at the stake for the crime of being a witch; why they felt the need to torture her is unclear, though it is speculated that it was an attempt at weakening her husband, who was at that time involved in a feud between two major clans. Regardless of the intentions, her death and the violence of it unhinged her husband, leading him to, in rage, bring absolute destruction upon the camp of soldiers that had tortured and killed his wife.”

Ginny lifted her head, having finished the page, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes wide. This was not her Potions book, yet mere moments before it had been. Something had gone very wrong. 

A loud screech caused her to jerk her gaze upward; then again, a second screech of equal volume came from the mouth of the falcon perched on the top of the chair opposite her, a falcon that was twice the size it should have been. Ginny’s jaw dropped the rest of the way open, her brow furrowing in utter confusion.

“Be wary,” the falcon croaked. Ginny let out a tiny gasp. “Be wary.”

“What in the name of Merlin?” Ginny murmured.

“Be wary,” said the falcon. 

“What are you?” Ginny demanded. She grabbed her wand from the table and leveled it with the falcon’s beady yellow eyes. “Who are you?”

“Be wary,” repeated the bird, eyeing her with an intensity she felt in her bones.

“Be wary of what?” she asked. “Of strange birds with the ability to talk?”

“Be wary,” was all it said. 

“You keep saying that!” Ginny spluttered. “But what are you? What do you mean?”

“Be wary,” it said, then it spread its great wings and took off, the chair it had rested on crumbling to pieces at the force with which the bird pushed down on it.

“What does that mean?” she shouted after it, but it gave no reply as it flew away over the rows of bookshelves. As Ginny followed it with her gaze, she realized that the library was no longer indoors, but rather the ceiling had vanished, exposing a starry expanse of sky. She stared up at it, her mouth fallen open, feeling increasingly dwarfed by the vastness of this infinity. Ginny shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts, and rubbed at her eyes. She must have fallen asleep. She was dreaming. That was all.

Slowly, she lowered her hands. She was dreaming. Her dreams were never simple.

A low, rumbling behind her caused her to turn, her eyes scanning the bookshelves. They were all blanketed in shadow, a velvet blackness that prevented her from seeing past their edges. The rumbling sounded again, this time louder and closer to a growl. It sounded almost canine, but something about it was off.

“Who’s there?” she called, wondering if some other creature was about to jump out and warn her to be wary. The rumbling was definitely a growl now, something deeper than a dog’s but louder than a cat’s.

“Hello?” Ginny called again, stepping forward hesitantly. A form had begun to take shape within the shadow of a bookshelf, a massive figure, and for a moment she panicked, thinking she was about to be attacked by a bear, however she remembered that she was only dreaming. She was only dreaming. She thought.

The light began to reflect off of something within the shadows, a glistening she recognized as eyes. The sound was getting closer, louder; the figure began to take a more definite shape, light reaching it from the sky above.

A huge beast stepped from the shadows, a hulking dog the size of a van, with ragged, jet black fur and glinting red eyes. Saliva dripped from its bared teeth, its hackles raised and fur on end. The giant dog let out a menacing bark; Ginny stumbled back and into the table.

“You should have listened to the bird,” the dog growled, its masculine voice filled with cold amusement. “It probably would have saved your life.”

As the dog sprang forward, Ginny turned and ran; the dog collided with the table, then scrambled about and chased her. Ginny sprinted down the aisles of shelves, she grabbed one and pulled on it as she passed, causing it to wobble and pitch forward, however the dog merely jumped over it, its huge paws making a thundering sound with every strike against the floor. Ginny ran past Madam Pince sitting at her desk, and the librarian only pressed a scolding finger to her lips as she barreled out of the library and didn’t even scream as the dog flew past her as well. 

Ginny looked over her shoulder, the dog was gaining ground. She ducked into a narrower corridor, hoping that perhaps it would be too small for the large dog, but the walls and ceiling expanded to allow the beast to fit. She swore, very loudly, and tried to run faster. 

“You’ll taste sweet!” the dog laughed, its thudding paws getting closer with every second. “I promise to eat your mind first so you won’t feel the pain!”

“What the actual hell!?” Ginny cried. “Why?” The dog only laughed again; she could feel its hot breath falling on her back. 

A door appeared on her left; Ginny skidded to a stop and wrenched it open, then slammed it behind her and threw the bolt. 

“No!” the dog screamed. “No!” A loud scratching came from outside the cupboard, but the door held fast. “I’ll get you! One day you won’t be able to run!”

“Screw you!” Ginny yelled back. 

“I will defeat you! I will kill you!”

“Get in line!” Ginny snapped. She took a step back; the door was remaining firmly shut despite the dog’s angered scratching at it. She turned, and stopped stock still. What was before her was stranger than the talking falcon and dog. 

“… being chased in a dream is usually a sign of anxiety,” said Professor Trelawney, reading aloud from a very large book that was placed in her lap. She was sitting on the cap of an even larger mushroom with bright red skin and pure white spots, and sitting around the mushroom were several foxes with vibrant orange fur and a single baby. The baby was asleep, lying on its back at the paws of one of the foxes. The fox was looking down at it with wide eyes and a grimace, almost like fear but closer to bewilderment, as though it was dumbfounded by the sight of the human child at its feet. This was not, however, the strangest part of the scene, not in the slightest; the cupboard Ginny had taken refuge in was not in fact a cupboard, but a ballroom, a ballroom filled with men and women in fancy Victorian dress, all dancing to a mournful waltz played by a string quartet off to her left. On top of that, every single figure in the room but for Professor Trelawney and the baby was, in fact, not even alive, but a skeleton. A skeleton in a long silk dress swished past Ginny, a tall powder white wig sitting on top of the skull precariously; two skeletons in tailcoats strode past her carrying silver platters laden with crystal flute filled with a bright purple and steaming liquid; the musicians off to her left held their bows and instruments with bone fingers and one of them was keeping the rhythm by striking his own ribs with a spare bone, adding a sharp ringing to the mellow tune.

“What the hell?” Ginny whispered again.

“Of course, the final key to interpreting the dream is to identify your pursuer,” Professor Trelawney said, “being chased by a bird can indicate being ahead of a rival, being chased by a bear can signify an overload of stress in life. One thing to note, is that if the pursuer is a giant black dog with red eyes that wants to eat you, it usually is a sign of some very bad juju ahead.”

Professor Trelawney frowned, then looked down at the book. “That’s not right,” she said. “Who on earth would use the word ‘juju’ in a textbook?”

Ginny turned to open the door; she’d take the hungry dog over this strangeness, however the door had gone. She sighed, then turned back and approached the group of foxes and the mushroom.

“Ah, Ginny, come sit down,” Professor Trelawney called. “This poor baby boy here has been missing his mother.”

Ginny frowned. “Where is his mother?” she asked, kneeling down by the infant. 

“I have absolutely no clue, one of these dancers dropped him off and told me to make sure he didn’t wander away,” Trelawney sighed. “In all honesty, the babe’s presence makes me a little uncomfortable, I was never any good with children.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply vocally. She looked down to the baby, tilting her head. The baby had dark hair, black almost, pale skin and thin lips. She’d never had much exposure to small children, though on occasion when visiting one of her mother’s friends she’d been granted permission to hold the friend’s baby, but only while sitting down and not for very long. As she was looking down, the baby opened his eyes and blinked, then yawned and stared up at her. Then his face screwed up in misery and he began to cry, raising its arms towards her.

“What do I do?” she asked, looking up at the Divination teacher.

“How am I to know?” Trelawney asked. “It’s your baby.”

“No he’s not,” Ginny said. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Clearly you’re not pregnant, the baby is outside of you, isn’t he?”

“I’m not his mother,” Ginny insisted.

“Look at him, he’s the spitting image of your husband.”

Ginny looked down, glancing over the child; he did look a lot like Harry, he had the same messy black hair, almond shaped green eyes that were screwed up in his wailing, his nose was the same and his mouth was similar. In fact, he even had the same lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

“Harry?” she gasped. 

The baby cried louder, pushing his arms towards her in further insistence.

“He wants you to hold him,” Trelawney said.

Ginny, not knowing what else to do, lifted the baby from the ground and cradled him as best she could. The baby, the baby that looked exactly like Harry because he was somehow Harry, ceased his crying and snuggled against her bosom.

“Where’s his mother?” Ginny asked, looking up at Trelawney.

Trelawney shrugged, adjusting her seat atop the mushroom. “If he’s not yours, I don’t know. The woman came by, set the baby down, and left immediately, saying nothing but ‘don’t let him get away.’”

Ginny looked down again, very confused by now, at the lightning scar on the baby’s forehead. Why was the infant version of her husband appearing in her dream?

“Infants are a very significant sign in dreams, you know,” Trelawney said suddenly. “But in this case I would say it’s because your husband feels vulnerable and weak, as though he is once again a helpless babe.”

“Harry’s not weak,” Ginny protested, “nor does he feel vulnerable.”

Trelawney shrugged her shoulders, her many strings of beads clinking together. “Perhaps not now, but you do dream of the future more often than the present, don’t you? Perhaps he feels that way in the future.”

“Wait, how do you know I dream about the future?” Ginny asked.

“You just told me,” the professor said.

Ginny scowled. “You’re of no use,” she muttered.

“Oh, whatever you do do, dear, don’t drink anything anyone might offer you,” Trelawney said. “The waiters are all serving poison.”

“Wait, what? Why would the waiters be serving poison?”

“Well, they’re all dead anyway, aren’t they?” Trelawney mused. “They might as well live life to the fullest.”

“But they don’t have life,” Ginny said.

“Precisely.”

Ginny stared up at her, her brows knit together in indication of her complete confusion. “You make absolutely no sense.”

“Hmm. Perhaps. Then again, you’ve never taken one of my classes so all you know of me is what you hear from your husband, and your brother I suppose, as he takes the class as well.”

“You don’t make sense there, either, you’re totally barking.”

“No, that would be the dog that chased you in here,” Trelawney corrected. “Oh, it looks like he might be breaking the door down soon. I’d warn the dancers, but of course they take months to decide anything, and in all likelihood they’d simply deny the dog’s existence. It’s much easier to pretend the thing you’re afraid of isn’t real than to run from it, after all.”

“What?” Ginny said.

“Oh, look, here it comes now.”

Ginny turned around, to see that the door that she’d bolted shut and seen vanish was once again open and the massive beast of a dog that had been chasing her was at that moment trying to squeeze its wide shoulders through the narrow closet door. 

“Oh, sh – ”

“Don’t swear in front of a baby,” Trelawney scolded. “It might remember and become an absolute delinquent later in life.”

Ginny didn’t bother stopping to gape at Trelawney, she scrambled up and scanned the room for an exit; the dog was still struggling to fit through the door, but it would get through it at any moment.

“That’s the only door,” Trelawney said helpfully, pointing to the one the dog was currently stuck in. 

“What?” Ginny groaned. “Why would someone put just one door in a room this big?”

“Oh, because it’s a room of politicians,” Trelawney explained. “Look around. Can’t you tell by their pompous pretentious display of finery and wealth over top of their bare bones? Or the fact they’re all skeletons within one large closet?”

“How do I get out?” Ginny demanded.

“You don’t,” she answered. “This room is designed to let people in, not out.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ginny gasped.

“No, I assure you I’m not. I think.” Trelawney frowned, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“That dog wants to eat me!” Ginny said.

“Well, come sit up here, you’ll be perfectly safe atop this toadstool.”

“How?” Ginny asked. “How on earth does that even make sense?”

“Well, for one it’s a giant toadstool,” Trelawney said matter of factly. “For another it’s the source of the poison these dancing skeletons are enjoying. I assume the dog will want to avoid it. Touching it usually is lethal.”

“Then why would I want to sit on it?” Ginny said through gritted teeth.

“That is a fair question,” said Trelawney, covering a yawn with her hand.

A loud, resounding crack echoed through the room; Ginny turned to see the dog had broken free of the doorway and was bounding towards her, its bright red eyes filled with hunger. It knocked over several of the dancing skeletons, however none of them so much as gasped at its presence. The baby however in her arms began to cry again, and Ginny had nowhere left to run. She looked down at the baby, then turned her back and tried to shield him from the dog, in the hopes that it would eat her and become full and the baby would be able to live.

A sharp jab into her shoulder jostled her; Ginny looked up to find that she was cradling her potions textbook and four girls were standing around her.

“Have a nice nap, Weasley?” said the closest of the four girls.

“It’s Potter, actually,” Ginny said, leaning back and stretching, trying not to shake in her chair. The dream was over; there was no dog, no baby, no Trelawney seated on top of a poisonous mushroom while skeletal politicians in finery danced a waltz around her. Probably.

The four girls were all scowling down at her; Ginny looked around and realized that all of them were wearing Slytherin uniforms. She surreptitiously found her wand on the table and gripped it in her palm.

“Oh, then it’s true?” said the first girl. “You really did con Harry Potter into marrying you.”

Ginny’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t con anyone.”

The girl slammed her hands down on the table. “Of course you conned him, there’s no other reason he would have ever married you; whose baby are you carrying? Are you even pregnant at all?”

“I’m not pregnant!” Ginny snapped. “I’ve never been pregnant, we didn’t get married because of a pregnancy.”

The girl narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you, Weasley.”

“Potter,” Ginny spat. “My name is Potter.”

“You don’t deserve that name,” the girl hissed. “Harry Potter was meant to marry a pureblood witch of equal status, not some whore from a blood-traitor family living on a farm.”

“Get out of my face,” Ginny said calmly. “I’ve got studying to do.”

“Did you hear me?” The girl snapped. “You don’t deserve the name Potter!”

“Well, I suppose it’s a shame that our marriage is binding then,” Ginny said sarcastically. “You know, the kind that can’t be broken. It’s one of those magical contracts that can’t be made null.”

The girl bared her teeth in a sneer. “Watch your back, Weasley.”

With that, the four girls stormed away, their long hair swinging behind their backs over their overly tight uniform skirts. Ginny gritted her teeth again, her hand clenching on her wand.

_What was that?_

Ginny heard Harry’s voice, and her tense shoulders drooped a little. He hadn’t been listening.

_Apparently I’ve conned you into marrying me._

_As I recall, I asked you._

_As I recall, we were already married._

_That’s true._

Ginny raised her hands and pushed them through her hair, dislodging her ponytail. She pulled out the band that held it in place and let it fall over her shoulders. 

_I think these girls are mad that you’re no longer a bachelor, she thought._

_I don’t think that I was a bachelor, to begin with, seeing as you and I share souls._

Ginny nodded absently, gazing but not seeing the book in front of her. _Is practice nearly over?_

She heard across her mind Harry speak aloud, calling to Angelina what time practice would be done. Angelina was too far from him for her voice to carry across his mind to hers, but Harry repeated her answer. 

_In a few minutes. You want to meet for lunch?_

_Sure. I’ll finish up in here then; you’ve got to get a shower, right?_

_I don’t think I’m that sweaty._

_Shower. For the sake of everyone._

_Fine, god, you’re so nagging._

Ginny rolled her eyes, then drew the book closer and looked to find her place. She paused, then flipped back and looked at the last two paragraphs. There was no mention of a woman being tortured or burned at the stake or even her husband killing her killers. 

Deciding to let the dream go, she flicked back to where she’d left off, and settled back into the boredom of classifications.

Practice ran for another twenty minutes, and Harry ended up spending a further fifteen in the changing rooms waiting for Fred and George to stop making the shower heads spew bubbles rather than water. When he did finally get his shower and leave the changing rooms, Ginny marked her place in her textbook and packed away her things, leaving the library books on the table and exiting in a calm fashion, rather than the sprint she’d used while dreaming. She waved to Madam Pince as she passed her desk, who only scowled and continued erasing graffiti. 

Harry entered the Entrance Hall just as Ginny stepped off the marble staircase. They met in the middle of the hall, then continued walking towards the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione had long since finished lunch, despite not returning to the library, so they found two empty seats and ate together in apparent silence, as they didn’t need to speak in order to converse. Once they’d finished eating, the two of them returned to Gryffindor tower, to find Ron and Hermione sitting at a table near the windows, Hermione half writing an essay and half scolding Ron for something.

“... I mean, if you're going to leave all of your work until the night before all the time, what are you going to do when OWL’s come around? That's so much studying, too much for one night!”

“I won't always leave everything for the night before,” Ron said in a tired voice, “that history essay isn't even due until Tuesday!”

“And if you do it tomorrow, it'll be the night before,” Hermione pointed out.

Ron looked up at the two of them approaching and gave them an expression of “SAVE ME!”

“Let him be, Hermione,” Harry said as they sat down. “Ron has always been a procrastinator.”

Hermione gave a sniff of disapproval and turned back to her essay. Ginny rolled her eyes and took her Potions book from her bag.

“Ron, have you done the reading for Snape yet?” she asked.

“What reading?” replied Ron.

Ginny rolled her eyes once again.


	37. September Is A Boring Month

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let it be known that this chapter was a pain in the ass to tag; Harry and Ginny need to stop thinking as much

**Chapter Thirty Seven  
September Is a Boring Month  
Harry**

By Tuesday morning, Harry had realized two things. One: Never tell Ginny that her hair is a mess before she’s had a coffee. Ever. Two: September is utterly, wholly, deeply boring. It may have only been the second week, yet he had come to this conclusion regardless. Charms first period and the theory behind Switching spells was boring, History second period was so utterly dull he fell asleep, and even Potions in third period, which was at the very least meant to be aggravating, was boring. However, by the last period of the day, he realized a third thing. Never, ever, remain after the end of Defense when it's the last class of the day without first making sure that either Remus or Sirius know that he’s still there. Especially if it’s because he’s kneeling behind his desk cleaning up spilled ink.

The lesson had just ended and Harry was closing his textbook; he was tired despite the day of dullness he’d had, and as he reached for his bag to shove the book away, he didn’t realize that he’d grabbed the bottom of the bag rather than the top. The rest of the class was already rising from their seats, so Harry lifted the bag to hastily push his textbook into it before standing, but due to his fingers closing on the bottom of the bag, the entire contents of his school bag spilled onto the floor. An ink bottle burst open, stacks of parchment flew out over the floor, and the days books spilled out in a tiny but mass exodus.

Harry let out a sound that was half mangled curse and half yelp. Someone else legitimately cursed as they stepped in the pool of ink seeping across the floor, and Harry shot guilty looks at the passing students; the person who’d stepped in the ink gave him a rude hand gesture as he wiped the ink from his shoe onto a piece of parchment on the floor. Harry scrambled to gather up his fallen books and papers before anyone else could trample them, shoving them out of the way until the exodus of students had passed.

“You guys go ahead without me,” Harry said over his shoulder to Ron, Ginny and Hermione. “I’ll catch up.”

Ron shrugged and started towards the door, however, Hermione and Ginny stayed standing by his desk. “Are you sure?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow in concern, “We could stay.”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Harry insisted. “Go on.”

“Alright, don’t take too long,” Ginny said to him, “we’ll save you a seat in the common room.”

Harry gave them a wave; they were among the last of the others to leave the room, leaving him kneeling on the floor alone with Sirius and Remus. He gave a soft sigh and stared down at the mess of his stuff.

 _I wish I knew a cleaning spell,_ he thought, a bit despairedly, as he started to mop up the ink with his spare parchment.

 _Scourgify,_ came Ginny’s helpful mental voice.

 _Oh yeah,_ he thought, then jabbed the puddle with his wand, muttering the incantation; as he did, he vaguely heard Remus comment: “I think they’ve all gone now.”

Harry didn’t care to listen to his professors’ conversation, so he didn’t really pay attention as Sirius replied, rather he turned his wand over his ink-stained Transfiguration book. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, so Harry grabbed another piece of parchment to wipe it up.

“What does my knowledge of the differences between jinxes and hexes have to do with my attractiveness?” Remus laughed.

Harry stopped scrubbing at the book cover. He knit together his eyebrows, a bit confused, and sat up straight to peek over the top of his desk. He saw both Remus and Sirius standing by the teacher’s desk, Sirius leaning on it with his back to Harry, while Remus stood with his arms folded and an amused expression on his face.

“Probably because I don’t have a clue what the difference between a hex and a jinx is,” Sirius said. “It’s the fact that you know it that’s sexy, Remus.” Harry’s knit eyebrows turned into a frown.

Remus laughed again, shaking his head at Sirius in further amusement. “Really, Sirius? Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, everything about you is sexy, I admit it,” Sirius answered. At that point, Harry became suddenly aware of the feeling the he should not be there. He glanced around the room, wondering if he would be able to sneak out before they noticed him.

“Sirius, we’ve just finished class, are you really flirting right now?”

“I flirt with you constantly! It’s part of my charm.”

“You are quite charming.”

Harry didn't know if he should hide or jump up and interrupt before something happened; he clearly was not meant to be there right then. There was a vague feeling of discomfort somewhere in his chest, and as he glanced back at the teacher’s desk, it blossomed into full blown panic. He stifled a gasp by clamping his hands over his mouth, then ducked behind the desk and tried to stay hidden. Seeing his guardians making out against the desk had not been on his list of things to do that day. He heard Remus chuckle again, then he slowly peered under his desk and saw two pairs of feet, standing one in front of the other and very close to each other. He glanced towards the door, but it was closed; why did the Defense classroom have to be one of few classroom doors in the castle that didn’t have a window in it?

Then he heard another sound, and hastily moved his hands to cover his ears; hearing his two guardians make out was most definitely not on his list of things to do ever. 

_Harry, is something wrong?_

_HOW DO I GET OUT WITHOUT THEM NOTICING ME?_

_What?_

_HOW DO I GET OUT OF THE CLASSROOM BEFORE THEY REALIZE THAT I’M STILL HERE?_

_What’s the matter, why are you panicking?_

Harry glanced at his spilled things on the floor, then reluctantly lifted his hands to shove them into his bag; he abandoned all thought of organizing or cleaning up the ink and pushed all of it as quietly and quickly as he could into the bag. Then he froze at the sound of Remus saying something, only catching the second half of it: “... we’re in the classroom, Padfoot…”

“Class is over,” Sirius said, but his voice was muffled somehow, “no one’s coming in here until tomorrow.”

“But… well… mmm…”

Harry’s eyes widened. _ABORT, ABORT, ABORT I HAVE TO GET OUT HELP, HELP! HELP ME –_

_WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT, HARRY JAMES POTTER?_

_HELP ME GET OUT DAMMIT ARE YOU NOT LISTENING???_

_I CAN’T BECAUSE YOU’RE THINKING TOO LOUDLY._

_BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO BE LISTENING!_

_To what?_ Ginny asked exasperatedly.

Harry didn't know how to tell her, so he did the only thing he could think of, and stopped thinking. He cringed and shoved the last bit of paper into his bag.

_What am I listening for?_

_THE REASON I HAVE TO GET OUT OF THIS ROOM QUICKLY._

_Stop shouting and think clearly so I can hear, then._

_YOU TRY THINKING CLEARLY WHEN YOU’RE TRYING NOT TO HEAR SIRIUS AND REMUS SNOGGING!_

_Is that what’s happening?_

_YES NOW HELP ME GET OUT!_

_Just stand up and walk out, then._

_But –_ Harry peeked over the top of the desk again, then hurriedly ducked back down, _they’re snogging..._

Harry could hear her rolling her eyes. _Then walk quietly. They probably won’t notice you._

_But…_

_They’re just kissing, Harry, just leave. It doesn’t really matter._

_But they’re adults! Adults don’t snog!_

_Harry, where do you think babies come from?_

_This is not the time for sarcasm!_ Harry scolded his wife.

Ginny was laughing now, and it didn’t help him at all. Harry glanced between the door and where he was, then over the desk and grimaced; this was most definitely not something he was meant to witness. 

_Just get up and walk away, carefully if you’re so worried._

Harry bit his lip, but he didn’t want to stay there any longer.

_Either you sit there in mortification until they leave, or you get up and sneak out before it becomes something worse._

Harry had to stop himself from audibly protesting; _Don’t say that, that’s not helpful, and I definitely don’t want that image in my head!_

_Seriously, Harry?_

_Well, you wouldn’t want to think of your parents doing that!_

Ginny was quiet for a second, then: _That took it too far, Harry._

_It’s the exact same thing!_

_Fine then, you help yourself get out._

Harry glowered at her unhelpful attitude, then, tucking his school bag under his arm, he rose slowly from where he had been kneeling. He hastily moved around his desk and towards the wall; as Ginny had predicted, his guardians were too occupied to notice him. He crept closer to the door, trying not make a sound or look up, and set his hand on the door knob from behind another desk. He carefully went to twist it.

It was locked.

Harry froze again. He looked over the handle, but the only way to unlock the door was by a key, which, as he turned around, he saw sitting on the desk. 

_Erm…_ he thought.

_You could ask politely for it._

_Not happening._

He heard Ginny sigh to herself mentally. _I give up. You’re just screwed._ Harry glanced between the key and the door, when Ginny added: _Like Remus is going to be in a minute, apparently._

Harry shut his eyes, trying to not respond because that would just make it worse. Having no other idea of what to do, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the lock, just willing in sheer desperation for it to release.

_You know we’ve not been taught nonverbal spells yet._

_Just shush!_ Harry mentally shouted. _Stop sounding so amused, you’re not being helpful!_

_This whole thing amuses me._

_Shush!_ Harry squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. _The lock will turn, the lock will turn, the lock will turn –_

_Yeah, have fun with that._

_– the lock will turn, the lock will turn, the lock will turn._

A soft click prompted him to open his eyes. The door drifted open, just as Remus said: “What was that?”

_Ha. Ha. Ha._

Harry glared across his mind at Ginny. If one of them suspected that the room hadn’t been empty, they’d probably worry to the point of panic that they’d get reported and fired. Which was confirmed by Sirius’s tone as he barked out: “Who’s there?”

Harry stuck his left hand in the air reluctantly, figuring that the sparkly gold on it would indicate that it was not the average student lurking by the door while he rallied enough courage to stand up in face of this very awkward situation.

“What? Is that Harry?” Remus spluttered, then louder: “Stand up!”

Harry forced his knees to straighten. Then he dropped his hand, realizing it was still in the air.

“Harry?” Sirius said. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get out quickly and quietly,” he mumbled.

He heard, rather than saw, Remus sigh in relief; he was unwilling to raise his gaze even if he’d stood up. “You frightened us, Harry.”

“Sorry, I was trying to avoid that.”

“Well, what were you doing, then?” Sirius asked again. 

“Erm, I spilled my bag at the end of class, and I hadn't cleaned it all up before… erm, before you guys, erm,” he cleared his throat, then gestured absently.

At the silence, he glanced up at them. Remus’s expression was one of relief and confusion, Sirius’s less so.

“Well, get out then,” Sirius said, rather crossly.

“I’ll do that,” Harry muttered. “Right, erm, see you. I mean, not that – I’m just going to go –” Harry turned and stepped away, right into the door. “Ah! Crap...” Rubbing his forehead, he hastily exited the classroom. As he pulled the door behind him, he heard Sirius say:

“Are we sure James was his father? Because James was never that awkward.”

“Oi!” Harry protested. More at the comment about his dad than the rest of what his godfather had said; there was no denying that he was the most awkward individual in existence.

“Go away, Harry!” both Remus and Sirius called.

“The pair of you are incorrigible!”

There was a second’s silence, then: “At least we know for a fact Lily was his mum.”

“Oh, shut up, Sirius.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shut the door, cutting off the sound from inside – _They probably put a silencing charm on the room,_ Ginny thought –; he jabbed his wand at the door to lock it. 

_Never let me stay behind alone again, he thought._

_I thought that was amusing._

_Oh, shut up, Ginny._

Her laughter did not ease his mood. 

But five minutes later, as he was approaching the portrait hole, he realized that he had non-verbally unlocked the door.

However, Ginny was still laughing so the thought escaped him a second later.

He reached the common room a few minutes later and went straight for the table by the window where Ginny was sitting with Hermione. He stopped by her chair and glared daggers down at her. She looked up at him with bright eyes sparkling with pure hilarity and smiled sweetly.

“Can I help you, dear husband?” she asked politely, the absolute picture of innocence.

“Fuck you, Ginny,” he said in exasperation. Then he turned away and stomped to the stairs while she burst into renewed laughter behind him and Hermione asked bewilderedly: “What was that about?”

Harry started cleaning his textbooks of ink, trying very hard not to think about what had happened and to not listen to Ginny’s still amused thoughts.

 _You were so awkward!_ She laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny,” Harry said to the empty air around him. 

_They were just kissing, Harry, you could have gotten up and walked out at any point._

“People resembling parents are not allowed to snog,” he declared. 

_What are you going to do when I inevitably get pregnant and we become parents, then? As I recall, snogging is one of your favorite past-times._

Harry stopped scrubbing at the cover of his Transfiguration textbook and stared blankly at the wall across from him. He hadn't ever thought of that.

“I’m going to be a dad one day,” he mused.

_Uh, well, yeah, you will. Your point?_

“We’re going to have kids.”

_Erm, yes, eventually._

“We’ll be parents.”

_Okay, slow down there, mister, this parents thing isn’t happening for a minimum of five years._

“But still… we’re going to have kids one day.”

The door to the lounge opened and Ginny stepped inside. Harry looked up at her with that same expression of mixed awe and realization. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Has this thought only just now occurred to you?” she asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I’m a fifteen-year-old boy, what do you expect?”

She considered this, then shrugged her shoulders and dumped her bag on the floor of their lounge. “That, I suppose.”

Harry shook his head at her and went back to trying to get the ink out of his textbook. Ginny walked up to him and peered down at it.

“You know, I think it looks better like that,” she said. “See, you can’t see the author’s face on the back.”

Harry looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. Ginny shrugged and walked away. Harry sighed and refocused.

“We’ve got that appointment with Dumbledore tonight, remember.”

“What time?”

“Eight thirty, I think.”

“You think? That’s even more helpful than you were earlier.”

“You seem a bit peeved, darling, has something upset you?”

Harry lifted his eyes and looked over his shoulder, raising both eyebrows at her. She grinned with both malice and mirth and stepped into their bedroom, out of his view. Harry shook his head once again and dropped his gaze back to the textbook in his lap. He sighed, and gave up on it, tossing it onto the coffee table with the rest of the contents of his school bag. He would clean it later. Harry rose from the sofa and brushed off the knees of his robes, then glanced up at the clock on the mantle. It was eight past five; they had a few hours before they had to meet with Professor Dumbledore.

“Do you want to go down to the Great Hall for dinner or just stop in the kitchen?” he called to Ginny. “Because I don’t think I’ll be able to look Remus and Sirius in the eye for a month.”

“Shame, we’ve got Defense three more times this week and training with them in the mornings.”

Harry groaned, not looking forward whatsoever to having to exercise with them the next day. 

“I don’t see what’s got your knickers in such a twist, it’s not like they started going at it on the desk or anything.”

“Ginny!” Harry exclaimed. 

She appeared in the doorway. “What?”

“I don’t want to think about them doing anything!” Harry said with a shiver. “No more than you want to think about your parents doing anything!”

Ginny shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to tease you mercilessly on the subject.”

“You’re hopeless,” Harry sighed.

Ginny grinned and crossed the room to slip her arms around his waist. “But you love me for it,” she said smugly. Harry glowered.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he muttered. She simply laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“Shame, seeing as that’s a constant.”

“Ha, ha,” Harry laughed dryly. “You’re hilarious.”

Ginny grinned wider. “Of course I am, I learned from Fred and George.”

Harry rolled his eyes and just kissed her. _You’re hopeless,_ he thought as he pressed his lips to hers.

_I love you too._

Harry looked at her with a touch of scorn. She giggled again and stepped away, around and to the coffee table. “Y’know, you could have just tried a cleaning spell on this mess.”

“I did, but all that happened was it vanished the ink on the floor.” 

Ginny looked up at him, then picked up the wand lying on the table and flicked it, saying “Scourgify,” as she did. The ink stains on the books and papers all vanished, leaving behind his already dried notes from the day. She looked back up at him, her eyebrows raised. 

“Okay, you only got it to work because you’re a girl,” Harry said.

She snorted, and tossed the wand to him. “Not only did I fix all of your things with one try, but I did it with your wand,” she pointed out, then poked him in the chest. “And it is not because I am a girl.”

Harry looked down at his wand, frowned, then at her, then pouted slightly. “You got my wand to work because we share our souls,” he insisted.

Ginny smirked at him, then nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “Sure, dear. That’s what happened.”

“Oh, shut up already.”

Ginny laughed and stepped past him. “Make me, Potter.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, turning to follow her path with his eyes, and caught her looking back at him and smirking. “Did you seriously just say that?” he asked.

Ginny grinned fully then. “Yep, I did. What are you going to do about it, hmm?”

Harry covered his eyes with a hand and shook his head. “Why must you be this way?” he murmured under his breath. Ginny just laughed. 

Around half past six, they left their rooms for the common room, where they found Ron sitting at a table playing chess against Seamus and Dean and nearby knitting a nobly hat. Ginny walked up to the three boys playing chess and looked over Seamus’s shoulder.

“His knight is exposed,” she said, pointing helpfully to it. 

“Ginny!” Ron protested as Seamus quickly moved to capture Ron’s knight.

“What?” Ginny answered. “It might be good for your ego if you lost a game or two every now and then.”

“Thanks, Ginny,” Dean said brightly to her. “We were just about to lose!”

“You won’t be thanking her in a few minutes, you’re still going to lose,” Harry pointed out.

“Probably,” Seamus admitted.

“Hey, Mr. optimistic, aren’t we supposed to be trying to win?” Dean asked.

“Shut up, you know we’re bound to lose.”

Ginny caught Harry’s eye and raised her eyebrows. Yikes.

Harry just rolled his eyes at her. “Let’s go get dinner.”

“See you, Potters!” Seamus called after them.

“Oi, that was my bishop!” Dean exclaimed.

Harry looked back at Ginny. “Yikes indeed,” he muttered. Ginny giggled.

They followed the crowd through the halls down to the ground floor, walking hand in hand and half listening to the conversations around them. The students of Hogwarts were a diverse lot, Harry mused to himself as they moved with the ebb and flow of the crowd migrating slowly down to the Great Hall and their dinners. Harry caught bits and pieces of the multiple discussions around them, catching parts of sagas and chronicles of the students’ lives. _“Annie told me that Tom’s cheating on Brittney…” “What, but he’s so sweet to her, that can’t be true!” “It is!” “How do you know?” “Because he’s cheating on her with Annie.” – “… so I said, if you’re so interested in doxy eggs, why don’t you go shove one up your –” “If you keep telling your boyfriend to shove things up his butt, he’s going to realize how gay he truly is.” “Erm, that’s kind of the point.” – “Hey, isn’t that essay on the properties of moonstones due this week?” “Yeah, have you done it?” “No. Have you?” “Hell no.” – “Do you think you could ask your sister if she’d want to go to Hogsmeade with me, y’know as friends?” “Mate, if you like her that much just ask her yourself stop bloody ranting to me about her, Merlin.” "But –" "Dammit, I am serious, if I hear from you one more time how dreamy her eyes are or how silky her hair looks I will fucking hex you." – “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to just write a damn letter to your own bloody mother for her birthday!?”_

As they neared the doors to the Great Hall, the crowd merged with a flow of students from the dungeons, coming up for warmer air from beneath the cold stone walls. Harry linked his arm through Ginny’s puling her a little closer, and she dropped her head onto his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. They were just outside the doors then, when he heard it.

“… probably not even his kid. She’s probably lied about the whole thing. It’s a shame it’s magically binding.”

“I know, my dad spent nearly an hour ranting about how he’d given hundreds of galleons to the Potter’s charities and such so the old head of the family would set up a marriage between him and my older sister.”

Harry looked over his shoulder, a frown furrowing his brow. 

“My father did the same things! He told me that he was going to do his best to set up a marriage between me and the Potter family; their businesses were enormous back in the day, he told me, it would have made us filthy rich.”

Harry’s frown deepened into a scowl. What did this person think marriage was, a business transaction? He spotted them; two girls in Ravenclaw uniforms just behind him, both at least a year younger than him. One of them saw him looking and blushed scarlet; she elbowed her friend who looked up and turned a similar shade of red. Harry gave them a sarcastic smile to let them know that yes, he had heard them, then ever so politely raised his middle finger towards them. Their blushes turned indignant, but he didn’t care. They didn’t have the right to be indignant after what he’d overheard them saying.

“Potter!”

“Are you kidding me?” he mumbled under his breath. “Malfoy, would you just piss off already?”

“Language, Potter,” Malfoy said with a thin-lipped smirk, “the Weaselette’s poor baby might hear you.”

Harry gritted his teeth; Ginny slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently, though he turned anyway and glared at Malfoy. “Ginny isn’t pregnant, she never was pregnant, we didn’t get married because of a pregnancy.”

“For some reason, Potter, I don’t believe you,” Malfoy drawled. “Then again, Weasley might just be fat.”

“My name is Potter,” Ginny spat. “And you are a giant asshole.”

There was a collective intake of breath in the crowd around them; Malfoy narrowed his glinting silver eyes. “Are the pregnancy hormones already making you irritable, Weasley?”

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Harry snapped. 

“I’m hurt, Potter, I thought you were supposed to be good and noble.”

“I’m also s’posed to not rip people’s heads off when they insult my wife,” he growled. “So either you back off, or I hex you.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, looking around the packed Entrance Hall. “With so many people here, why, you’d get detention! Who knows, you might have so much luck that your progeny kicks Weasley in the bladder for the first time while you’re absent.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shock, seeing as I’m not pregnant,” Ginny quipped. “Why don’t you run off and worry about the dozen girls you’ve might have gotten pregnant since term started, alright? Leave us alone.”

Malfoy’s expression soured. “What do you know, Weasley?”

“I know that you’re clearly not speaking to me, as my name’s Potter,” Ginny snapped. “Now, for real this time, fuck off before I hex you!”

The gathering all gasped again; they probably hadn’t seen a spectacle such as this in quite some time. When Malfoy didn’t immediately reply, Harry pushed between a gap in the crowd, Ginny’s hand in his, into the Great Hall. He was done with the slimy git, and had no interest in continuing the conversation. He found the first empty spot at the Gryffindor table and dropped into it; Ginny taking the seat beside him. As he still rather aggressively served himself mashed potatoes and shepherd’s pie, Ginny touched his arm gently.

_Harry?_

_What?_ he thought, a little abruptly. She gave him a look. Sorry.

 _Pro tip,_ she verbalized mentally, _when dealing with assholes, make them aware of the fact that you know they’re assholes._

 

A/N: _I need to learn to stop smiling when I’m writing in public places the people in the library are going to think I’m insane…  
But a miffed Harry is an amusing thing.  
Miffed is a good one too. I have a plethora of synonyms for angry. _


	38. Occlumency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had never friends, so he imagined one: a red haired girl he kept forgetting to name. Ginny imagined a shy boy with untidy hair and bright eyes, who knew nothing of magic, so she told him. He dreamt of a world of magic and of a girl who wanted to be his friend. She dreamt of a boy who loved to hear her voice, no matter what. Then dreams become a reality when Harry met Ginny.

**Chapter Thirty Eight  
Occlumency  
Ginny**

Dinner that night was a bit tenser than most nights, perhaps due to Malfoy’s assholery, or perhaps because of the impending lesson with Dumbledore. Either way, they ate in a subdued silence, even mentally. When they’d finished, they stood in unison and left the Great Hall, deciding after short mental discussion to wait the next two hours in the library; those two hours did not take long to pass, it was after eight before they realized it was even seven and they were standing to leave.

“The library is closed!” a seemingly begrudged Madam Pince hissed at them as they passed her in the shelves. Ginny waved a hand at her, pointing to the exit, and she glared after them. Dumbledore’s office wasn’t far, and they arrived within ten minutes. 

_We’re early,_ Harry thought, looking around for a clock; they still hadn’t received their watches from Dumbledore.

_Probably by only ten minutes or so,_ Ginny replied. _We should go ahead and go up._

_Probably._

Ginny glanced at Harry. His expression was closed, though that did absolutely nothing seeing as she was inside of his mind. She raised a hand and gently poked his cheek. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Boop,” she whispered. Harry’s face broke into a smile and he laughed softly.

“What even are you?” he murmured under his breath, shaking his head slightly as he approached the gargoyle hiding the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. He gave it the password, Peppermint Toads, and the hulking stone figure sprang to life and away from the entrance. Ginny murmured a thanks to it as they passed, and the gargoyle nodded in reply. They mounted the revolving staircase, waiting as it slowly carried them up to the top floor of Dumbledore’s office.

They stepped off, and to the broad oak doors, carved with elegant filigree, and Harry lifted the eagle knocker, hitting it against the brass back-plate twice.

“Enter,” came the Headmaster’s voice.

Harry pushed the door open, and Ginny followed him into the office. The Headmaster was seated at his desk, examining a very long scroll of parchment that draped over his lap and extended far past his hands to the floor.

He looked up at them as they approached and gave them a smile. They each took chairs by the desk and the Headmaster released the parchment and waved a hand, causing it to vanish. Harry remembered that afternoon, the door unlocking without a spell or key, and made a mental note to tell Dumbledore.

“Good evening,” Dumbledore said as he leaned back on his chair. “I trust you’ve enjoyed your second week of school so far.”

Harry shrugged. Ginny raised a mental eyebrow at him, before answering their professor with an affirmative. 

“Very good,” he murmured, nodding for a bit. Then he sat up straighter in his chair and pulled it in closer to his desk, leaned his elbows on it and looked at Harry over the top of his half-moon glasses. “On a related note, a little bird told me that you had an uncomfortable encounter this afternoon,” he said, “and to get out of it, you managed to non-verbally unlock a door.”

Harry felt his cheeks going red. “How did you know that?”

“I told you,” Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly, “a little bird whispered it in my ear.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. Dumbledore just chuckled and dropped his gaze, shaking his head.

“Discomfort and fear are often the two biggest factors in learning a new skill,” he declared, “and in your case, I believe it was a great breakthrough. Non-verbal magic is a very difficult thing to learn, and many witches and wizards are incapable of it at all. I am impressed, Harry.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, though there was still a hint of a confused inflection in his voice.

Dumbledore gave them a nod, then leaned back in his chair again and picked up his wand. “But enough idle chatter, we shall get down to business, though there are no Huns involved…” The Headmaster paused, seemingly to reflect on what he’d just said. Harry barely concealed a snort, though Ginny had no clue what was funny. Dumbledore shook his head with a quick jerk, then continued: “This evening we shall go over the basics of Occlumency. You read the material I gave you on the subject?”

Harry gave a quick nod, Ginny did the same.

“Very good. You know what it is and the basic premises of it, then, so I shan’t bore you with all the details. Let’s simply dive straight in, with mental exercises.” 

Dumbledore picked up his wand and gave it a flick; the lights in the room dimmed, leaving them in half-darkness. “Close your eyes, and try to clear your mind.”

Ginny settled back in her chair, closed her eyes, and tried to empty her brain of thoughts. She focused on the sound of her own breathing.

_Just empty my brain,_ Harry thought.

Ginny’s lips curled into a frown. _Harry, get out of my thoughts,_ she thought in a mental whine.

_I’m not in your thoughts, I’m in mine!_

_We have the same thoughts._

_Then why did you tell me to get out of yours?_

_Because you’re being counter-productive._

_You’re being counter-productive._

Ginny elbowed him in the ribs. He let out the tiniest of gasps, then opened one eye to glare at her.

“Do your best to remain still,” Dumbledore said. Ginny snapped her arms back to her side.

That was your fault.

Ginny ignored him. She just needed to think of absolutely nothing.

_Hey, Ginny?_

 _What,_ Ginny thought without amusement.

_How exactly do we think of absolutely nothing?_

Ginny squeezed her eyes and sighed. _By not continuing to ask me questions._

_Ginny?_

_What?_

_I don’t think this is working._

_You know what I think, Harry?_

_I always do, we share thoughts._

_I think you’re being obtuse._

That made him huff, but it also made him stop thinking so loudly. Ginny listened to the sound of her breathing. A soft rustle of air in, a gentle flow out. She thought of a white expanse, bearing absolutely nothing but herself.

Harry leaned into her white expanse. _What’s this s’posed to be?_

_Nothingness, Harry._

_Oh._

She tried to ignore him. He could tell that she was trying to ignore him, so he ignored her. They collectively ignored each other, sitting back to back inside her white expanse.

“Now open your eyes.”

The white expanse vanished, and Ginny opened her eyes. She then reached over to Harry’s chair and pinched his leg. 

_Hey!_

_You deserve it,_ she told him.

_What did I do?_

_You’re very loud._

_You’re loud._

Ginny looked at him. He raised an eyebrow. She snorted, and looked away. Dumbledore frowned.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. They really needed to learn to not respond visibly.

_But it’s so fun to watch people be confused._

Ginny didn’t respond to his thought, rather she focused on Dumbledore.

“You did well,” Dumbledore said. “That white expanse was a decent trick, Ginny.”

Ginny sat up straighter in her chair. “Wait, what?”

“The point of the exercise was to think of absolutely nothing, so you thought of an empty, white expanse. I used Legilimency to observe your progress.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh, okay.”

He nodded to her, then looked at Harry. “You quickly adopted the white expanse, was it because she was thinking of it?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I was already in it when she thought of it.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “I did not observe your thoughts together.”

“Our thoughts were connected the entire time,” Ginny said.

Dumbledore ‘hmm’ed softly, leaning back in his chair and stroking his beard. “I wish to try something. I am going to use Legilimency to enter your thoughts, Ginny, and I will be sure that you can tell that I am there. Harry, I would like you to see if you can sense my presence in her thoughts.”

Ginny glanced at Harry, then shrugged. “Sure,” she said.

Dumbledore met her gaze, and she felt a sudden change in the temperature of her thoughts; she felt the Headmaster’s presence in her mind, quiet and small, but distinct from her own mental sense of self and Harry’s. It felt a little weird, bordering uncomfortable, but the presence of Dumbledore in her mind stayed quite still, unmoving. 

_That’s really weird,_ Harry thought.

_What?_ Ginny replied.

_Dumbledore. It feels weird._

_Yeah, I know. Not bad, or anything._

_Just… weird._

Ginny did her best to keep eye contact with the Headmaster, and as the exchange with Harry finished, the presence shifted slightly.

_“Ginny,”_ she heard. 

_Dumbledore?_

_Hi Dumbledore!_ Harry thought.

_“Are you conversing with Harry?”_

Dumbledore’s voice in her mind was distant, very different from Harry’s, and it sounded almost echoey, as thought they were shouting across a large room to hear each other.

_Yeah, he can tell you’re here. Didn’t you hear him say hello?_

_“I did not. Ask him to think something else.”_

_Something else,_ Harry thought.

 _You are a giant ball of obnoxiousness,_ Ginny said to Harry.

_“What?”_ Dumbledore’s presence said.

_He thought ‘something else.’ I said he was obnoxious._

_“I see.”_

“I am going to attempt to reach your deeper thoughts, Ginny,” Dumbledore said aloud, his voice sudden and distinct from the mental conversation. “Just past the surface of your consciousness,” he added, a reassuring tone in his voice. She nodded, and felt the mental presence of him move. It shifted, becoming darker, farther away from her foremost thoughts and mental sense of self. She felt a memory from a few years ago be stirred; a simple recollection of being with her mother and learning to make gooseberry pie.

 _I’ve never had gooseberry pie,_ Harry thought. _What’s it like?_

Ginny brought up the memory of the taste and smell of the pie after it had been finished, rather than actually explaining it in words.

 _Now I want gooseberry pie,_ Harry sighed mentally.

_I want pie too,_ she thought.

_“Pardon?”_ Dumbledore’s presence said.

Discussions of gooseberry pie, she explained to him. The mental presence shifted, coming to a memory that was more recent, from when she was about twelve. An afternoon in early July, when she, her brothers, and Harry had played Quidditch in the apple orchard.

_That was fun,_ Harry said. _The two of us need to play Quidditch more often._

 _Angelina will be graduating this year,_ she said, _maybe next school year I’ll try out for the team._

 _That would be great,_ Harry thought.

_“Are the two of you conversing again?”_

_Yes, talking about Quidditch._

_“May I ask why?”_

_You opened a memory about it, just now._

_“I was not able to access that memory.”_

Ginny frowned. _What d’you mean?_

_“I mean I was unable to see what the last memory I retrieved contained.”_

_It was just us and my brothers playing Quidditch._

Dumbledore’s mental presence shifted again, she could feel him sifting through her surface memories, and strangely he seemed to be passing on many of them. The mental presence retreated, then it was gone.

“It seemed that I could not view many of your memories without pressing further,” Dumbledore said aloud, and Ginny opened her eyes again.

“I could tell you were there the whole time,” Harry said to the Headmaster, “and I could hear whatever you said. I guess that counts as hearing.”

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his fingers together, bringing them close to his beard. “I could not sense you at all, Harry,” he mused. “Or perhaps I simply did not register the difference between yours and Ginny’s thoughts…”

Ginny frowned. Harry said: “What?”

Dumbledore tapped his nose with one long finger. “There was a legend circulating several years ago, an urban legend, concerning soulmates and their skills as Occlumens. There was a woman, who with her husband, claimed that she and he were so seamlessly connected that if anyone attempted Legilimency upon one of them, they would not be able to tell which mind they were reading.” 

“Was it true?” Ginny asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. “As I said, it was an urban legend. The two of them gained a great deal of fame very quickly, however a skilled Legilimens disproved their claim, and in fact revealed that the two of them were not even married. But the idea sparked much research in the field of Legilimency, and there was in fact a study done that year by the Ministry of Magic in Spain on the mental connections between soulmates such as the two of you.”

“And what happened?” asked Harry.

Dumbledore spread his hands. “As much as I heard, they showed that it was possible to have a constant empathic connection between two people, there was numerous evidence to support the idea, however as true soul bonds are so exceedingly rare, they found nothing so astonishing as your constant telepathic connection.”

“So, you think there might not actually be a difference between my thoughts and Harry’s?” Ginny said.

Dumbledore slowly nodded his head. “Perhaps. But I can say for certain, that your current mental safeguards, being raw and unprocessed, are quite good. I could not access many of your memories or even certain parts of your thoughts, I assume because they had to do with Harry. Now, I also assume that Harry has the same sort of basic safeguards in his mind, based on what I saw in yours and what I saw in my initial test of the two of you. What we shall attempt to do now is build up those basic safeguards.”

“And how do we do that?” 

“The way I was taught Occlumency was through slow and meticulous processing.”

“What was that process?”

“I did my best to appear to be focusing on my History of Magic class while I was in fact sleeping,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. “The then professor was a very talented Legilimens, and it took months to accurately build up a defense between my wandering dreams and his lecturing thoughts.”

Harry blinked. Ginny raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at them.

“Really?” Harry said.

“Yes. At the end of my seventh year, he pulled me aside at my graduation ceremony to commend me on my fantastic Occlumency skills during my more awake moments. It was then that I learned that those safeguards do not remain stable once one has entered deep sleep. Or REM sleep, as it is called now.”

Ginny looked over at Harry and raised an eyebrow. _Did he seriously just admit to having self-taught himself to use Occlumency so he could get away with sleeping during class?_

_I think he did._

_What even is this?_

_I think it’s awesome._

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked away, back to the Headmaster who did not seem to have missed their little exchange.

“Do you do this around everyone?” he asked.

“Do what?” Harry asked.

“Chat with each other silently, the way you just did now.”

Ginny shrugged. “We keep still when we’re out in public, but around family, or other people who know, yeah.”

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. “I can’t imagine how aggravating that is to your friends.”

“You can’t,” Harry confessed.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and dropped his gaze down to the surface of his desk for a moment, then gave a little sigh, barely noticeable, and looked back up to them. “The method of which I used to shield my roaming thoughts during History classes was a fairly simple one, one that was easy for me to pick up and while it was at the beginning relatively weak compared to my teacher’s skill, it was enough of a defense that I was immediately aware of any prodding thought from my professor and therefore able to quickly change my course of thought. It is a very good starting point for beginners to Occlumency such as you, and a very good foundation for later, more complicated methods.”

“Where do we start?”

“The first thing to do is to somehow make your thoughts into something that you can mentally defend. The method recommends imagining your mind to be a house, with you at its center, and your thoughts, memories, desires, secrets, and so forth strewn about it. In the beginning, the house is unguarded, with plain doors and windows, and no locks. Imagine this, please.”

Ginny closed her eyes, and called to mind a visualization of her home. She sat in the kitchen, the heart of the Burrow, at the table. Harry sat down next to her, as she expected, and leaned on the table.

 _So, we just imagine our minds to be the Burrow?_ Harry thought.

 _I guess,_ Ginny answered. _Unless you want your own house._

_Why would I want to do that? The thing I want to protect most is you._

Ginny felt her cheeks coloring. _You’re a giant sap, Harry,_ she thought. She felt his hand slide into hers, and he squeezed it quickly.

_That’s because I am hopelessly in love with you._

She was sure she was bright red at that point. _Seriously, we’re supposed to be focusing! How am I supposed to do that with you rotting my teeth?_

_I would hope I rot your teeth, I have to think really hard to come up with all of these cheesy lines._

_They are cheesy._

_You’re not supposed to agree with me, Ginny!_

“Are you visualizing this house?”

“Yes,” Harry said quickly.

“Are we allowed to be in the same house?” Ginny asked.

“I would suppose that would work, yes, go on. What house is it?”

“The Burrow.”

“A good starting point. Now, think of each room of the house as holding a thought of yours, a memory, a dream, something you enjoy doing, et cetera. As the rooms go further up to the top of the house, place memories and thoughts you least wish to be viewed in the least accessible parts of the house.”

Ginny started remembering the rooms, trying to think of which ones would be best for what kind of thought to put in them. She decided that her room ought to house her personal memories of family, loved ones and fun times, the kitchen pantry her recollections of all the relatively useless trivia she’d accumulated through life, mostly things of Muggle life she’d gotten from her father, the second floor bathroom received her recollections of all embarrassing moments, whether they happened to her or she witnessed them – _Hey! The entirety of my grade school is not one giant embarrassing moment!_ Harry protested as she sent her second-hand memory of his experience directly into the toilet –, her memories of anything and everything to do with school and boring trips to the Ministry and the like to Percy’s room, memories of Quidditch to Charlie’s, childhood dreams and hopes to her parent’s room, knowledge of pranking and mischief to Fred and George’s room, all thoughts about careers and futures for her to Bill’s, and her prayers for her friend’s and her family’s future successes to Ron’s room. As she did this, Harry went along behind her, placing his memories and thoughts throughout the house, almost in identical places, though his thoughts on the future were placed in her room and his good memories of family and friends in the sitting room. The very last thoughts she placed were her own bad memories, and all of Tom’s. These she put all the way up in the attic, and she made sure that a mental version of the family ghoul was there to keep Tom company.

“Have you finished sorting through your thoughts?” came Dumbledore’s voice.

“Yes,” Ginny answered, opening her eyes.

“I’m still trying to decide if my memories of grade school should stay in the bathroom or if I should put them in the attic with the ghoul,” Harry answered. 

“Pardon?” asked Dumbledore.

“Never mind,” Harry said quickly. “I’ll just leave them in the toilet.

Ginny looked over to him as he opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, and she looked back at the desk in front of them, shaking her head slightly.

“Very well, we shall move on then. Now that you have sorted out your thoughts into the house, consider the exterior of the house. You started with plain walls, plain doors and windows, with basic locks upon them. Consider the kind of locks on all the openings, and how they might be stronger.”

Ginny paused first to slowly inhale a lungful of air. Then she considered the imagined house her mental sense of self stood in, and she exited it to view the house. Harry followed her, the two of them imagining the outside of the Burrow together.

_What do you think?_ Harry asked. _It’s just a normal house right now, but how could we protect it?_

Ginny considered what Dumbledore had said, and since he hadn’t given them any criteria other than improving the current defenses, she decided not to limit her options.

_Dragons,_ she thought.

 _I was thinking some lasers, but okay,_ Harry replied with a mental shrug.

_We could have both,_ she suggested.

_What about dragons with robots riding them with laser cannons for hands?_ Harry thought excitedly.

Ginny opened one eye to look at him. _What even are you,_ she thought.

_What?_

 _Fine,_ she sighed. We can have dragons with robot riders who have laser cannons for hands.

Harry clapped his mental hands. _Awesome. What else?_

_We should probably give the house steel walls._

_And set it on an asteroid!_

_What?_

_Too much?_

_I don’t know if there is such thing as too much…_

_So let’s put it on an asteroid. With volcanoes._

_And dragons and robots that have laser cannon hands? Oh my._

_You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?_

_I wonder, how on earth did you guess that!_

_Haha, Ginny._

Ginny just shook her head and turned back to the mental house. At the moment and in real life, it was made with wooden walls, but she imagined this Burrow to be different. She imagined it to be made entirely of metal, thick walls of steel plating each outside surface. The house in her imagination quickly changed, becoming a monochrome monstrosity of metal. Harry’s imagination was revamping the landscape, and when she next looked around, they were standing on gray, rocky ground, in the distance there were mountains spewing smoke and red light, and directly above them hung the stars.

_Wow,_ she thought. _That was quick._

 _Watch this,_ Harry said, and a moment later a battalion of robots, all twelve feet tall, stood before them, with their laser cannon hands raised in an attentive position. Ginny rolled her eyes, thought show off, then imagined dragons for the robots to ride. The house was quickly surrounded by robots and dragons, all of them with the same ferocious expression.

 _Now what?_ Ginny thought.

_I dunno._

_That’s very helpful, sweetheart._

_Look who’s talking._

Ginny once again rolled her eyes, then walked back to the house. She pushed open the door, which was now shiny steel, and stepped back into the imagined building. _We probably should put extra armor over the rooms we don’t want people getting into._

_Which ones do we not want people getting into?_

_Practically all of them except Percy’s._

_Yeah, but which ones do we most want to keep protected?_

_The attic,_ she thought.

_And the second floor bathroom,_ Harry added.

_We probably ought to armor plate the toilet,_ she mused. Harry sniggered aloud. She elbowed him lightly, then began up the stairs. She trailed her fingers over the walls, and as she did, she imagined them to be changing to steel like the outer parts of the building had. She thickened the metal around the second floor bathroom, her bedroom, the attic, Ron’s and her parent’s rooms, as Harry walked behind her and added his own touch. In a few moments, they’d made a complete round of the house, and by the time they reconvened in the sitting room, the house was barely recognizable. 

_That ought to do it,_ Harry said.

_I think we should put a troll in that bathroom,_ Ginny thought.

_Kay, done. What else?_

_There’s already the ghoul in the attic, but it’s just there to set the atmosphere._

_Another troll?_

_Five._

She and Harry gave it another few moments of thought, then finally opened their eyes together and looked to Dumbledore.

“Finished?” Dumbledore asked them.

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“What have you set up?”

“We turned the walls into steel,” Ginny began. “And put the house on an asteroid.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow for a moment. “Indeed?”

“Yeah,” Harry added, “and we set out dragons, a few robots, and some trolls to guard the house.”

“Oh my,” Dumbledore joked. The three of them exchanged amused chuckles, before the Headmaster continued speaking. “That’s quite imaginative. And rather apt, I’d say. The void of space surrounding the house of your thoughts, that is.”

“What else?” Ginny asked, wishing to continue the lesson.

“I test your guards, of course,” Dumbledore said. “I shall attempt to access your thoughts, and you shall attempt to maintain this mental protection via your imagination. As it is your imagination, I cannot actually view what you have created, but the safeguards will hopefully be genuine. Are you ready?”

Ginny glanced at Harry, who nodded. She looked back to the Headmaster, and nodded her head.

Thus went the next hour. Dumbledore alternated between performing Legilimency on the two of them, and they both tried to keep their imagined safeguards in place and effective. On the first try, their dragons and robots appeared in fact rather useless, as the Headmaster quite easily accessed ‘the sitting room’ part of their thoughts and memories before they even noticed him, let alone repel him. But as the hour went on, the attempts to defend themselves became more and more effective. They weren’t completely effective just yet, but by the time they had finished Harry had managed to successfully prevent Dumbledore access to his subsurface thoughts twice, and Ginny once.

“That shall be the end for tonight,” said Dumbledore, and just as he finished his sentence, a nearby clock chimed the hour. “Continue to practice these exercises, and I will see you again on Thursday, the same time. Although, before you go, here, take your watches; I have modified them appropriately.”

They rose from their seats, and Dumbledore handed the two wristwatches to them, then he showed them to the door. As they took the slowly spinning staircase down to the fourth floor entrance, Harry put his arm around Ginny’s waist and set his forehead on her shoulder, preparing to fall asleep.

“Hey that’s not fair,” she said, poking him in the chest. “We’ve got to get back to our room before you can do that.”

Harry grumbled gibberish under his breath. “I’m tired,” he finally said.

“I realize that, but you’re also too heavy for me to lug up all those stairs.”

“Are you calling me fat?” he asked in a fake tone of offence.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m calling me skinny. Up. I’m too tired to banter with you.”

“You’re not skinny,” Harry mumbled.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Did you really just say what I think you said?”

“You’re curvy,” Harry added. “That’s not skinny. Skinny is stick-like.”

“You’re digging yourself a hole there, love.”

“I love your curves,” he mumbled. 

Ginny blushed a rosy shade of pink. “I, um… You still have to walk on your own.”

Harry sighed, just as the staircase reached the entrance. “Fine,” he muttered, lifting his forehead from her shoulder and standing upright. But he left his arm around her shoulders, and when they exited the Headmaster’s office, Ginny was still bright red.

They took their time on the stairs, and as they passed the floor with the two Defense Professors rooms, Ginny poked Harry in the side.

“What?” he mumbled, his eyes closed, he’d been using her sight to move.

“We should go and apologize to Sirius and Remus for frightening them this afternoon,” Ginny told him.

Harry winced at the recollection. “Now?” he asked. “It’s past ten. They’re probably asleep.”

“It’s not that far past ten,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’ll give you closure on this traumatic event.”

Harry gave her a cross look. She smiled brightly, and tugged on his arm, pulling him in the direction of Remus and Sirius’s rooms. There was light coming from under the door, and Ginny could hear voices and the sound of the radio playing from inside.

She knocked on their door, and waited patiently while Harry stared at his feet for someone to open the door. After a moment, it opened to reveal Remus, who immediately blushed scarlet at the sight of them.

“Oh! Evening, you two,” he said, sounding both surprised and as if he, like Harry, was feeling the repercussive awkwardness from the ‘encounter’ that afternoon.

“Evening, Remus,” Ginny said. “Can we come in?”

“Er, sure,” he said, stepping back and opening the door further. Ginny stepped inside, Harry behind her, and saw Sirius sitting on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table and his arms draped over the back of his seat. 

“I told you they’d come by,” Sirius said to Remus in lieu of a greeting.

Remus rolled his eyes and motioned for them to sit down on the sofa not occupied by Sirius. Ginny did, Harry dropping down a bit more roughly beside her, his gaze still fixed on his feet.

“I figured we should apologize for what happened earlier,” Ginny began.

“We?” Sirius repeated gruffly. “You weren’t there.”

“Yeah well, Ginny is always everywhere I go,” Harry said, finally looking up. “I’m sorry that I frightened you. That was what I had been trying to avoid.”

“We forgive you,” Remus said immediately, as he sat down beside Sirius. “It wasn’t your fault. We should have been more observant.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to be sneaky about getting out,” Harry sighed. “It just made the whole thing worse.”

“Let’s just agree to blame Sirius,” Remus suggested. 

“What?” Sirius said in almost a gasp. “Me? How is it my fault?”

“If you weren’t such a horny little bastard, this never would have happened in the first place,” Remus said quite calmly. Ginny sniggered. Harry lowered his head into his hands. Sirius at first looked like he was trying to appear affronted, but eventually he sighed and shrugged.

“That’s actually a good point,” he mumbled. Remus adopted a smug expression in his victory, then looked back to them with raised eyebrows.

“Would you like some tea? Or if you’re hungry, we have a few packets of crisps in the cupboards.”

“No we don’t,” Sirius said quickly. Remus shot him a look, and he deflated a little. “Fine.”

Harry shook his head. “No, it’s late and we really ought to be getting back to our rooms.”

“Oh, that’s fine as well,” Remus said. “We’ll see you tomorrow at training.”

“Bright and early, with a cheery Tonks!” Sirius said, clasping his hands under his chin dramatically. “So cheery, in fact, she might end up murdered for her morning attitude!”

Remus rolled his eyes, then looked to Ginny and raised his eyebrows, giving her an expression of _“Boys. Am I right?”_ Ginny giggled and nodded. 

They rose, bade the two professors good night, then exited their rooms and began the walk back to the marble staircases and Gryffindor tower. Lady fortune seemed to be smiling upon them that evening, perhaps in reconciliation of what had happened after Defense class, and they met no one on their way. Curfew was ten for them, and it was ten past.

When Harry finally shut the door to their sitting room behind them, Ginny heaved out a sigh and collapsed onto the sofa, flinging an arm over her eyes and a leg over the side of the couch.

“No, you can’t sleep there,” Harry said, walking over and prodding her in the side with a hand.

“I’m already laid down, go ’way,” she mumbled.

“No, come on, if I’m not allowed to sleep while walking back, you’re not allowed to sleep on the couch. You’ll wake up with backaches and a crick in your neck and all sorts of sore muscles. And you still have to brush your teeth and wash your face and brush out your hair and all that other crap you do before bed.”

Ginny lifted her arm and looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Other crap? Pardon me, Potter, but you literally mentioned all three things I regularly do before bed.”

“I did?” he said. “Oh.”

Ginny heaved a sigh, but lifted herself into a sitting position, then raised her arms up and looked at him. He gave her a look. _Really?_

“Shut up and pick me up,” she mumbled. Harry rolled his eyes, but took her hands and pulled her up, then wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her standing. She leaned on his shoulder, her eyes closed.

“You do have to walk, you know.”

“What use are you, then?” she asked with an even heavier sigh. She could practically feel his eyeballs rolling in his skull as she turned away and started towards their bedroom.

In all honesty, getting ready for bed really did take only a few minutes, even if she pretended it was ages. She only quickly combed through her hair before braiding it, then flopping down on the bed, snuggling down into the pillows.

“That’s my pillow, you know,” Harry called from the bathroom.

“Exactly,” she said. “It smells like you. You’ll get it back when you get over here and I can cuddle the real you.”

“You are very tired, aren’t you?” he laughed.

“No more than you are,” she mumbled. A normal person wouldn’t have heard her, but she didn’t even need to speak for her husband to hear her. Ginny smiled a bit and inhaled deeply, her mind already drifting towards sleep. She still noticed when Harry slipped in beside her, despite being in the brink of sleep, and she shifted closer to his body, draping an arm across him and breathing in the scent of him. He smelled like comfort and safety.


	39. I Know

**Chapter Thirty Nine  
I Know  
Harry**

Harry didn’t remember when he fell asleep, but he remembered waking up with his body colder than it had been the night before. He sat up groggily in bed, rubbing at his eyes and looked around the room. The clock on his night-table read half past six, and he could hear the shower running. He also needed to pee.

He slipped off the bed, throwing the blankets away from his legs, and started towards the bathroom. He knocked, and called out to Ginny, asking how much longer she would be.

“I just got in!” she answered. “Be patient!”

“But I have to pee!” he whined.

“Be patient!”

“But I’ve got to go badly!”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Can I just, slip in and use the toilet?” he asked. “You’re in the shower anyway.”

“Ummm… I guess?” 

Harry was only barely awake enough to hear the awkwardness lacing her voice, but not enough to be patient about the situation. He really needed to use the toilet.

He opened the door and slipped inside, the mirror was already fogged up, which meant that she’d been in there a bit longer than she’d said. He made his way to the toilet and quickly undid his pants to pee, wanting to get out as quickly as possible. Then his eyes widened.

This had not happened before. At least, not before he and Ginny had begun sleeping together, but it had only been a matter of time. He swallowed nervously, then glanced over at the shower. Today was probably the absolute worst time to wake up with morning wood. He would have to ignore it, there was no other option. Had Ginny not been in the shower at the time, maybe something different would have happened, but with his wife just behind him, and in the shower, he couldn’t do anything. 

“How much did you drink overnight, Harry? You’re taking forever,” Ginny called.

“Sorry, just a second,” he said, keeping his brain fixed firmly on waterfalls, the sound of rain, a garden hose, anything to hurry up and get out of the bathroom where Ginny was in the shower behind him and –

Harry shook his head quickly. Waterfalls. Garden hose on full. He managed to pee in record time, and quickly flushed and washed his hands. He darted out of the bathroom, shutting the door, and heaved a sigh. 

“I need a cup of tea,” he mumbled. 

While waiting for the kettle to boil, he deduced that he would be forced to take a cold shower. He would just need to wait for Ginny to finish up, then shower as fast as possible and hope that it died down. Harry groaned and let his head fall back onto the cabinets, cursing whatever or whoever had designed biology for humans and created the whole ordeal of morning wood.

He went back into the bedroom with his tea, in time to see Ginny leaving the bathroom with her hair wrapped up in her towel. 

“You can have it now,” she said, a half of a smile on her face and her eyes on the ground. Harry checked the mental door. It had the worst timing.

“Shut up,” he muttered, abandoning his tea on a chest of drawers and ignoring her snorts of laughter behind him. He took as cold of a shower as he could stand.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Ginny asked as he left the bathroom, now without the problem of earlier. “Like, am I going to have to let you shower first so you can do whatever it is you’ve got to do to get rid of the problem in your pants?”

“Don’t put it like that!” Harry hissed, his face flushing bright red. “It’s just a cold shower!”

Ginny laughed again. “Of course it is,” she said, still grinning, “but do I have to revoke my rights to first shower?”

“First shower goes to whoever wakes up first,” he reminded her, shoving his pajamas into the laundry hamper.

“And I almost always get up before you on school days,” Ginny pointed out.

“This is not the issue,” he said.

“Oh, so now it’s an issue?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” he said, then sighed. Harry dropped down on the bed beside her, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, opened his mouth, shut it again, then flopped back on the bed with a groan. Ginny sniggered again.

“This doesn’t happen often,” Harry mumbled.

“I know,” she said, now leaning back to face him. “I’m just teasing you.”

“Then I’m going to start teasing you whenever you wake up with panties that look like they’ve just fought in World War II,” he said.

“Hey, that’s a monthly thing,” she said with a laugh. “I can almost always predict it, and prevent that situation. And when I don’t predict it, you do.”

“Details,” he sighed. Ginny patted his arm, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. 

“Come on,” she said, “if we don’t get down to the Great Hall before Ron, there’ll be no food left.”

Harry nodded, and let her pull him to his feet. They gathered their school bags, and left their room for the stairs and the exit out of Gryffindor Tower.

They found Ron already at the table, but rather than shoveling his mouth with food, he was sitting with Dean, Seamus and Neville and laughing about something; or rather, he and Seamus were laughing, Dean had his head on the table, and Neville looked vaguely sympathetic.

“… come on, you can tell us!” Ron said, nudging Dean. “What’s her name?”

“There’s no girl,” Dean said flatly, “I’ve told you, it’s a normal thing for everyone to dream about!”

“Yeah, but who did you dream about?” Seamus asked, a grin splitting his face.

“I don’t know, I don’t remember every person I dream about!” Dean insisted.

“Who did Dean dream about?” Harry asked, dropping down next to Ron.

“I didn’t dream about anyone!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air

“The stains on your sheets say different, and since we know for a fact you were alone last night, it had to ‘ave happened in a dream,” Seamus said.

“Ew, now I wish I didn’t sit here,” Ginny said. Harry glanced over at her and knit together his eyebrows.

_Would you rather we moved?_ he thought.

 _It’s fine, besides, they’ll get bored in a minute,_ Ginny poured herself a cup of tea as she thought. Harry shrugged and started to serve himself eggs.

“Maybe it was that girl in Hufflepuff,” Seamus said, looking up at the other guys, “y’know, she was giving him eyes all day yesterday.”

“It wasn’t her, I don’t even know her name!” Dean said.

“Maybe it’s someone he wasn’t expecting,” Ron suggested.

“Oh, don’t’ tell us you’ve been ‘aving dirty dreams about Professor McGonagall, Dean!” Seamus laughed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean said. 

“So who was it?” Neville asked.

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

“Am I really missing out on that much,” Harry asked, “having moved into a different dorm?”

“Nah, besides, you’ve got the lovely wife to keep you company,” Seamus said with a wink.

“Oh, don’t say that in front of me!” Ron groaned. “Harry, please, never tell me anything about… about that stuff.”

“Why would I ever tell you?” Harry asked. “Besides, we haven’t done anything yet.”

“Wait, seriously?” Seamus started, but then Dean cupped a hand over his mouth. 

“Mate, I would much rather you continue pestering me over who I was dreaming about last night, than you piss off Harry and Ginny this early in the morning by questioning them about their lack of a sex life.”

“Guys, come on!” Ron groaned again.

“So, Ginny, have you started on that essay for Herbology yet?” Neville said, as loudly as he could while remaining polite.

“No, I haven’t,” Ginny sighed. “Carnivorous plants kind of freak me out.”

“I did, I could lend you the books I picked out for reference, if you’d like.”

“That would be lovely, Neville, thank you,” Ginny said with a grateful expression. Harry could tell that her gratitude was mostly due to the way he’d changed the subject so successfully.

“Though seriously, do we know the girl?” Seamus asked Dean. Harry rolled his eyes.

Nothing really happened the rest of the day, nor the day after, or at all until the week had ended. Friday night Harry, Ginny, and Ron gathered in Remus and Sirius’s quarters to listen to a Quidditch match, the Hollyhead Harpies versus the Wimbourne Wasps. The Harpies ended up winning, which delighted Ginny and by extension Harry. Sirius was a bit put out, as he was a great fan of the Wasps. They left a little before ten, said goodnight to Ron around quarter of, and the two of them were asleep by eleven. 

The next morning, Harry was roused from his sleep by the irritating beep of his alarm clock. He slapped at it without looking up, managing to snooze it, and tried to fall back asleep, however it started blaring again a few minutes later.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Harry mumbled, sitting up, he grabbed his glasses, shoving them onto his face and looking at the clock. It was half past eight. Harry frowned, trying to recall why he had set his alarm for half past eight on a Saturday.

“We’ve got extra Charms this morning,” Ginny said sleepily. “Who gets the shower first?”

Harry rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, then yawned and looked around. He looked down at himself, then said “I get it first.”

Ginny glanced at him, her eyebrows knit together, then she heard his thoughts and snorted. “Make sure it’s a cold one, then.”

“Shut up,” Harry mumbled. “Bloody hell,” he mumbled irritatedly under his breath as he slipped out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. 

They left their rooms around nine fifteen, and found Hermione, Ron, and Neville already in the common room; Ron looking half asleep and grumpy, Neville bleary eyed, and Hermione impatient.

“Our lesson is at ten thirty!” she said to them the moment they stepped off the stairs. “What took you so long?”

“Harry just had to take his time in the shower,” Ginny commented; Harry turned slightly pink, though the other three Gryffindors didn’t catch Ginny’s meaning. Hermione just huffed and waved them on.

“We have to get breakfast before we meet Professor Flitwick.”

“Breakfast?” Ron said, appearing more awake than he had a moment before.

“Yes, Ronald, breakfast,” Hermione sighed. “Honestly…”

Ginny linked her arm through Hermione’s and whispered something to her, though Harry wasn’t paying enough attention to hear. Hermione rolled her eyes in response, and they started out of the tower. They met Luna in the Great Hall, strangely already sitting at the Gryffindor table. 

“Hi Luna,” Harry said, dropping down across from her. 

“Good morning,” she said, her voice heavy from sleep. Neville sat beside her, and she promptly dropped her head onto his shoulder. Ginny sat on Harry’s right, as she always did, and Ron on his left. Hermione sat next to Ginny, and the six of them started their breakfast in half-asleep silence. 

“What do you think we’ll be doing today?” Neville asked, some ten minutes later.

“Probably healing magic,” Hermione said.

“Dumbledore did mention that,” Ginny said around her mug of coffee.

“Or maybe counter-jinxes and hexes and the like,” Ron suggested.

“No, I think that doesn’t count as Charms,” Hermione said, “that’s more DADA stuff.”

“Maybe we’ll be learning how to control our chi,” Luna murmured.

“Maybe,” Ginny said before Hermione could reply with what was likely to be skepticism. “You never know, it might be useful.”

Harry caught Hermione giving Ginny a look, paired with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Ginny gave a little shrug and sipped her coffee.

They finished eating just after ten, and together left the Great Hall for the second floor Charms classroom. They found the classroom empty, so they took seats at the desks and started conversing about what Flitwick would be teaching them. After a moment, the door opened again and Flitwick entered. They fell silent immediately.

“Good morning!” Professor Flitwick said cheerily. “I hope you’re excited for today’s lesson.”

They all answered with echoes of his good morning as the tiny professor made his way to the desks.

“We will be starting with healing magic today, a basic charm to heal cuts, burns and the like, and the Reviving Spell,” Flitwick said, already drawing his wand and giving it a flick, conjuring six large mannequins. “We’ll just jump right in. The most basic of healing spells is the Medicor Charm, which will heal almost instantly small to moderate breaks in the skin, and stop bleeding in larger wounds.” Professor Flitwick turned, waved his wand over one of the mannequins, and its arm displayed a thin gash, a few inches long, and oozing false blood that was a bright yellow color. “Watch closely,” Flitwick said, turning his body so they could clearly see his wand movements, he swirled his wand tip through the air in a downward spiral towards the mannequin’s wound, and said clearly “ _Medico!_ ”

The incision on the mannequin’s arm sealed, formed a faint white scar, then it too vanished. Flitwick turned back to them with a nod. “I would like you to practice the wand movement now, without the incantation, please. I shall demonstrate again.” And he did, spinning his wrist in a downward motion, making three complete clockwise rotations of his wrist.

Harry lifted his wand and copied the professor’s motion, though more slowly. His friends did as well, all of them silently copying the motion. Once or twice Flitwick stopped them and gave them a further instruction or correction, and after a few minutes, he said they had it down. 

“The incantation is ‘Medico’, be sure you pronounce it with a hard ‘c’ and not a soft one, as in the original Latin such a sound did not exist,” the professor told them. He waved his wand over the mannequin’s, and each of them gained small cuts over their forearms. “Please take a mannequin, and try and heal the wound.”

It took a few minutes to heal his mannequin, Harry had to repeat the incantation several times for it to do anything, and only after five more repetitions did the mannequin’s arm heal completely. Once it did, Flitwick gave it another cut, this time on its face, and had him try again. After ten minutes, he could heal small cuts with one try, and the Charms professor began giving his mannequin larger incisions. 

They worked on the Medicor Charm for maybe half an hour, before Flitwick stopped them, vanishing the mannequins. “Excellent work, boys and girls,” he said, beaming at them. “You’re doing very well. We will move on to the Reviving Spell now, so if you would branch off into pairs, please.”

Harry looked over at Ginny, who shrugged and stepped closer to him. Ron and Hermione did the same, leaving Neville and Luna together. Flitwick gave a nod, then raised his wand. “The Reviving Spell is most commonly used for fainting victims and those who have fallen under the Stunning Spell. There is no wand movement, simply touch your wand to the person you wish to revive, and speak the incantation, ‘Rennervate.’ Say it with me now: Rennervate.” They echoed him, twice before he nodded again. “I trust you all know the Stunning Spell?” When they all answered yes, he told them to take turns Stunning and then attempting to revive each other. Flitwick gave a wave of his wand and three large cushions appeared on the floor. “Use these to fall on.”

Harry turned to Ginny and raised an eyebrow, asking her mentally who should go first. She shrugged, and said she didn’t mind being the ‘victim’ first. Mentally, of course, as Harry hadn’t spoken aloud to ask the question. Ginny grabbed a cushion and dragged it away from the other four, then turned her back to it and faced Harry. She quirked an eyebrow and smiled. Harry rolled his eyes, then quickly said: “ _Stupify!_ ” Ginny’s eyes fell shut, and she collapsed backward onto the cushion. Harry felt a pang in his chest, then hurriedly stepped up to her and touched his wand to her sternum; “ _Rennervate!_ ” he said.

Her eyes immediately opened, and she looked up at him. “How many tries did it take?” she asked.

“Just one,” Harry said, straightening up and holding out his hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. “Your go?”

“One moment, Mr. Potter,” Flitwick said, hurrying over to them. Harry paused, looking down at the professor. The tiny Charms professor was looking quite excited, as he flicked his wand over Ginny. “You did manage it on your first try!” he said, beaming at him. “Good job, Mr. Potter!”

“Thanks,” Harry said, giving Flitwick a smile. 

“Miss Weasley – pardon, Mrs. Potter, please, try it on Mr. Potter.”

Ginny gave a nod, then after Harry moved to stand in front of the cushion, stunned him. Harry fell back, his mind blanking, and then a moment later he opened his eyes to see Flitwick clapping his hands, saying “Bravo, bravo!” and Ginny kneeling beside him.

“On your first tries!” Flitwick said. “Dumbledore will be pleased!”

Ginny pulled Harry up, and they glanced at each other, then at the excited professor. _Was it just me or did that feel… wrong somehow?_ Ginny thought.

_I felt it too,_ Harry answered, _like I shouldn’t be Stunning you. I don’t know what it was exactly._

 _I don’t know what it was either,_ Ginny replied.

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you mind switching partners? I would like to see if the Potters can perform the spell on others so easily,” Flitwick called.

Ron and Hermione, who hadn’t started apparently, walked over to them. Harry thought that that would probably solve the problem, and Ginny agreed as she and Hermione switched. Harry turned to face his friend, and Stunned her, waiting for her to fall on the cushion. Then he bent down and touched his wand to her, repeating the Reviving incantation.

Nothing happened.

Harry glanced over at Ginny, who was kneeling next to Ron, poking him with her wand. She looked up and shrugged. 

“Try again, Mr. Potter,” Flitwick encouraged. Harry nodded, then turned back to Hermione.

“ _Rennervate_ ,” Harry said, tapping Hermione again. Again, nothing. She didn’t even stir. “ _Rennervate_ ,” he repeated. Hermione remained unconscious. “ _Rennervate!_ ”

On the fourth try, Hermione seemed to move. She half stirred, but her eyes remained shut. Harry tried again, and this time she opened her eyes and sat up. 

“Oh,” she muttered, rubbing at her forehead. “You have a strong Stunner, Harry.”

“Curious,” Professor Flitwick said. “Mrs. Potter, have you succeeded on your brother?” 

“Erm, hang on,” Ginny answered, “ _Rennervate! Rennervate!_ ” Harry glanced back at her, and saw her jabbing Ron in the arm with her wand. “ _Rennervate!_ ” she repeated, giving Ron another sharp jab. At that, Ron jerked upright, and cried out: “Bloody hell, Ginny!”

“Got him!” Ginny said.

“Very curious,” Professor Flitwick said. “Well, continue with the pairs you are in now. Mr. Longbottom, how are you fairing?”

Harry turned back to Hermione as Flitwick walked away to help Neville, and shrugged. “I guess it just works better when it’s Ginny,” he said.

“Oh, it’s highly likely,” Hermione said, sitting up. “Given… you know, what you two have.”

“Yeah, probably,” Harry said. “So, do you want to try it on me?”

“Sure,” she answered, standing up. “Here, you get in front of the cushion.”

They took turns Stunning and Reviving for another twenty minutes, until Flitwick called for their stop. He vanished the cushions and addressed them at large. 

“You did very well, all of you,” Flitwick said. “I’m wondering where this sort of hard work is while you’re in class during the week,” he added with a genial smile. They laughed obligingly, and the Charms professor clapped his hands together, looking around the room. “That’s it for today. Our next extra lesson is next month, but I’ll see you on Monday of course. Go on and have a good rest of your weekend.”

The group said goodbye to the Charms professor and made their way from the classroom, then to the marble staircase. Luna left them for Ravenclaw tower, and Hermione for the library, but Ron, Harry, Neville and Ginny took the stairs back up to Gryffindor tower. Ron asked Harry to a game of chess, so Ginny went back up to their room on her own, leaving Harry with a reminder to come get her for lunch. She took the time to do some sketching, until Ron and Harry entered the sitting room to get her for lunch. 

It was the first time Ron had been up to their quarters, and as he entered the room he looked around with wide eyes and a soft murmur of “wow”.

“You have this whole place to yourself, then?” he said. “It’s way better than the rooms downstairs.”

“We still have to share a bathroom,” Harry said. “And Ginny takes forever in the bathroom.”

“Not as much as you do with your cold showers,” Ginny said, closing her sketch book. 

“Oh, shut it, you,” Harry said, grabbing a couch pillow and gently hitting her in the shoulder with it. 

“You guys have a kitchen!” Ron gasped. “That is so not fair!”

“It’s only stocked with things for tea,” Ginny said. “There aren’t even any biscuits.”

“Still,” Ron said, shaking his head. “It’s not fair.”

“Hey, you don’t have to live with a girl,” Harry pointed out. “She leaves her stuff everywhere.”

“I’m not the one constantly waking up with problematic blood flow,” Ginny quipped, picking up her pencil box and sketch book and going into the bedroom. Harry flushed as Ron laughed.

“It’s not my fault,” Harry mumbled to himself, Ron just shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, just don’t tell me,” Ron said. Harry sighed again.

They dragged Hermione from the library, where she had been reading a three inch volume on healing spells, and to the Great Hall. They found Neville and Luna sitting at the Gryffindor table again, in the same place they’d been that morning, so they joined them again. 

“When’s the first Hogsmeade weekend?” Neville asked as they sat down.

“The last weekend of October,” Hermione said, “the 28th and the 29th.”

“That’s a whole month away!” Neville sighed. “Why couldn’t there be one sooner?”

Hermione shrugged. “We need to focus on our schoolwork. This is OWL year, remember.”

Neville scowled, while Ron groaned. “Oh, not this again. Hermione, it’s bloody September, for Merlin’s sake. OWL’s are ages off.”

“And every second counts, Ron,” Hermione defended herself. “If you don’t pay attention now, in the beginning of the year, you’ll not know the things you need to know in order to pass them.”

“’Mione, all the teachers are doing reviews still,” Ginny said. “Only the first years are learning new content.”

“And they’ll finish reviewing this week, I promise you,” Hermione said. “Besides, we’re getting new content in Defense.”

“That’s just because Sirius gets bored easily,” Harry said with a sigh. “Look, can we just enjoy our dinner in peace? Forget OWL’s and schoolwork and reviews, it’s Saturday evening, we don’t have to worry about all that until tomorrow night.”

Hermione looked slightly peeved, however, Ron said emphatically “Well said, mate,” and served himself a large portion of steak and kidney pudding. Hermione at that point rolled her eyes and began her own dinner.

After dinner, the group left for Gryffindor tower and Harry and Ginny’s private sitting room to listen to the radio and continue their conversations. Ginny was standing to Harry’s right and they were walking in almost a single file line.

“… I think the Weird Sisters lost their sound when they took that record deal with Charmed Musics,” Luna was saying.

“The Weird Sisters are a classic and always will be,” Neville told her with a shake of his head. “Just because they started making more mainstream music doesn’t mean they’ve lost their sound. They’re still the same band.”

“But they replaced the drummer,” Luna said, “and they stopped making those soft songs, like Wizard’s Lullaby and Death of the Dragon.”

“No, they didn’t, didn’t you hear A Message To My Ex-Lover?” Ginny asked her. “It was beautiful, and a ballad.”

“What do you know about messages to ex-lovers?” Harry asked her sarcastically.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but before she could reply, Malfoy’s vile voice broke in. “Probably a great deal, considering how many she’s probably paid off to pretend as if they never chipped in to help knock her up.”

Harry whipped around, in no mood to deal with Malfoy’s cocky attitude right then. “I’m giving you until the count of three to run away with your tail between your legs,” Harry said, his voice soft but carrying. The Great Hall had quieted at that point, a crowd forming to listen into the newest hostile encounter between Malfoy and Potter.

Malfoy pursed his lips, tapping his chin as if to appear like he was pondering what Harry had said, then he snapped his fingers and smiled. “Or I could continue telling you about your little slut of a wife. How are things between you, by the way? I’ve heard she’s good; it’s probably the only thing she is good at.”

Harry drew his wand. “Back off, now, Malfoy, I’m warning you.”

“Oh, I’m so frightened, someone call my mother, tell her I knew she loved me best,” Malfoy said carelessly, examining his nails. He buffed them on his robes and smirked at Harry. “What would you do to me? A couple of wayward jinxes? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Impedimenta Curses and a few Stunners aren’t exactly scary. Especially when you constantly fail to hit your target,” he added, a malicious glint in his cold eyes. Harry clenched his jaw; Malfoy’s words were too accurate, too close to a truth, the truth of his duel with Voldemort…

_Harry, just let it go,_ Ginny’s thought broke into his. _His father was there, you know that. Let it go._

Harry didn’t listen to her. “Maybe I ought to make your acne flare up,” Harry snapped, “considering how much you care about your appearance, that would be frightening enough, wouldn’t it?”

Malfoy’s smirk slipped into a scowl. “Nice try, Potter,” he said coldly, “it’ll take more than that to send me running.”

“How about I turn you into a creature as foul as you are?” snapped Harry. “A pig? Or maybe a dung beetle?”

“Your whore doesn’t think I’m so foul, does she?” Malfoy spat. “Considering she begged me for a galleon just to let her suck me off.”

Harry lunged for him, except Ginny grabbed his arm and held him back. “Let go of me, Ginny!” he said, trying to break out of her tight grip.

“He’s doing this on purpose, he’s trying to get you in trouble!” Ginny hissed. “Let it go!”

“Of course, I wouldn’t pay a knut for her nasty mouth,” Malfoy scoffed. “I wouldn’t soil myself with a bloodtraiter such as her for free.”

Harry turned, his wand up and ready to spit out the vilest curse he knew, when a flash of blue light filled the space between them and Malfoy; there was a high-pitched scream of shock and then another flash of light, followed by a third, and Harry could hear Malfoy shouting out expletives in what sounded like pain. The Great Hall was filled with flashing lights, and he couldn’t see anything.

“STOP!”

Professor McGonagall was striding into the fading light flash; her face was set in a glare so powerful, it made Harry falter. As the lights faded, McGonagall appeared again, dragging Malfoy to his feet and holding by the arm –

“Luna?” Harry, Ginny, and Neville all gasped.

“I do not know what on earth the lot of you thought you were doing,” McGonagall said, “but this is no way for students to behave. Miss Lovegood, I thought you were above such debauchery.”

“I am not above putting little dickheads in their places,” Luna said coldly.

Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared. “You and I will be going to Professor Flitwick tonight, Miss Lovegood. And as for you, Mr. Malfoy, how dare you make such accusations of another student? I am appalled that you would even consider suggesting that Miss Weas– Mrs. Potter, I mean, would behave in such a way.”

Malfoy seemed too stunned by what had happened in the flashes of light to reply, he only hung limply from McGonagall’s arm. The irate Transfiguration professor looked around the Great Hall one more time, and said sharply “What are you all waiting for? An encore? Return to your dormitories, at once!”

The crowd hastily started towards the stairs, the Slytherins to the dungeons, the Hufflpuffs to the basement, and the rest of the school to the upper floors. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, and Ron remained still, however.

McGonagall eyed them with a piercing gaze. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Professor, Luna was just defending Ginny,” Hermione said quickly. “Malfoy was being deliberately hostile.”

“I am aware of this, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said. “I saw.”

“Please tell me you’re going to punish Malfoy severely,” Harry said, still very angry and just barely restraining himself from attacking Malfoy, even as he stood dead on his feet. 

“Mr. Malfoy’s punishment is not any of your business,” McGonagall told him.

“He was being slanderous about my wife!” Harry snapped. “He called her a slut more than once! Forgive me for being angry!”

Professor McGonagall, rather than swelling with further irritation as he had expected, deflated slightly. She looked at him with something akin to shame in her eyes. “I give my word, he will face the consequences for his behavior,” she promised. She drew a shaky breath. “Now, off to Gryffindor tower with you.”

Ginny tugged at his arm. Harry finally relented, and let her pull him to the marble staircase. They separated to climb the staircases to their room, leaving Ron, Neville and Hermione behind, and met again at the door to their sitting room. Ginny said nothing as she opened the door, and Harry was equally silent as he shut it behind them. Ginny dropped onto the sofa and leaned her body onto the armrest, her eyes shut and her thoughts just as quiet. 

Harry stood by the door, watching her. He didn’t know what to do.

“Ginny?” he said softly.

“I told you to let it go,” she murmured.

“I couldn’t,” Harry said. “I couldn’t just walk away, not when he was talking about you that way.”

Ginny shook her head. “Yes, you could have. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Malfoy saying to our faces or the rest of the school saying behind our backs, it’s widely believed that you or someone else got me pregnant and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. We’ll just have to ignore it until it’s obvious that I’m not pregnant.”

“That was more than just saying I knocked you up, that was downright verbal abuse!” Harry said. “I couldn’t not defend you!”

“But I asked you to,” she said. She wasn’t looking at him. “I asked you to let it go. Malfoy is Malfoy, you know that. There’s nothing we can do. Shouting about hexing him is not going to solve anything.”

“It would make me feel better,” Harry said. 

Ginny let out a sigh. “Harry, the whole school thinks what he was saying. You can’t hex the whole school.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “But you’re not pregnant. By anyone. We keep saying that, why won’t anyone believe us?”

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, love.”

Harry fell silent. He reached into her mind, and felt instantly horrible about the whole situation. He had been so mad about what Malfoy was saying, that he hadn’t noticed the hurt Ginny was feeling. The fact that most of Hogwarts, most of the Wizarding world in fact, thought that she was pregnant hurt her. He stepped up to the sofa and kneeled down, taking her hands in his. She felt that the world thought her to have wrongly tied him down, that she had deceived or tricked him into marriage because of a baby that while it didn’t exist, the world thought to be not even close to his.

“Hey,” he whispered, “look at me.”

She didn’t, so he let go of one of her hands to cup her cheek in his palm, and tilted her face towards his. “Ginny,” he said quietly, “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

She nodded her head, her eyes falling to the ground. “I know. It’s not like I said anything. It’s not your fault.”

“No, I should have paid better attention,” he murmured. “I’m inside your thoughts, I should have realized. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, love, it’s okay,” Ginny said. “I honestly tried not to think about this, so…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. Harry knew what she meant anyway. He kissed her, slowly, gently, his hand slipping into her hair. The whole situation was a giant mess, and they both knew that it would be when they went into it. He kissed her, their thoughts mingling as he tried to reassure her, _We’re together, and it doesn’t matter why people think we are, it only matters that we’re together._

Her fingers squeezed his. 

_I know._


	40. Keepers and The Art of Necromancy

**Chapter Forty  
Keepers and The Art of Necromancy  
Ginny**

Ginny was quiet the rest of Saturday evening, and Harry didn’t press her on it. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, combed out her hair and braided it, then slid in between the blankets of her bed in silence, both in mind and mouth. Harry joined her not long later, his arms slipping around her waist and drawing her close to him, tight to his chest. Ginny inhaled deeply the warm scent of him, of broom polish and the woody body wash he used and the faint remnants of her own conditioner. The fact that he smelled a bit like herself was comforting to her. It reminded her that he was hers.

She fell asleep thinking of this. Her dreams were dark and muddled that night, and she could make no sense of them when she awoke the next morning, and with every passing second the memories faded further. It was Sunday, which meant they didn’t have training with Tonks, so Ginny simply went back to bed after relieving herself and curled up under the blankets with Harry. He hadn’t awoken when she had, but he shifted when she rejoined him, draping an arm over her waist and pushing his nose into her hair. She fell asleep again, her breathing falling in time with his.

Sunday afternoon held the tryouts for Gryffindor’s Keeper. As Oliver Wood had graduated two years previous, and the year before there had been no Quidditch, Gryffindor was short a Keeper. Harry was required to attend, so Ginny went with him, as did Ron and Hermione. When they arrived at the pitch, Ron quickly disappeared while Hermione and Ginny found seats. Harry went off to the changing rooms to dress in his gear, and found Ron there as well. 

_Ginny, Ron’s trying out for Keeper,_ Harry thought to her.

_Oh, is he?_ Ginny replied, only half paying attention. She was scanning the pitch to see who was out there already. _Good for him._

_He looks white as a sheet._

_If it looks like he’s going to throw up, there’s a spell –_ Ginny began to think quickly, remembering her brother’s tendency for nausea in nervous situations when he was younger.

_I don’t think he’s going to throw up, Gin._

_Just saying._

Harry sighed and Ginny shrugged, then settled back in her seat, her head falling onto Hermione’s shoulder. “Ron’s trying out for Keeper,” she said to her friend.

“Is that where he ran off to?” Hermione said, but she sounded unconcerned.

“You already knew, didn’t you?”

“He told me last week.”

Ginny huffed. “So he tells his girlfriend and not his twin? Little twat.”

Hermione flushed red. “We’re not officially dating, Ginny,” she mumbled.

Ginny waved a hand dismissively. “You know as well as I do that Ron is mad for you. It’s just a matter of time now.”

Hermione did not reply to Ginny’s statement, rather she leaned forward and pointed to the exit from the changing rooms onto the pitch. “Look, there he is, and Harry.”

Ginny lifted her head and waved to her brother and her husband – thinking of Harry with that word still made her feel slightly giddy –, giving them the thumb’s up. “Want me to tell Harry to tell Ron good luck from you, Hermione?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, and that he’s going to do great!” her friend said quickly.

 _Harry, tell Ron good luck from me and Hermione,_ Ginny thought. _Hermione also says that Ron is going to do great._

_Sure._

Ginny saw Harry turn to Ron, and heard across her mind as he relayed the message. She could see even from the top of the stands that Ron had blushed; he turned and waved at them, grinning broadly. 

_Ron says thanks,_ Harry thought.

“He said thanks,” Ginny told Hermione.

“He’s welcome,” Hermione said, still looking down at the pitch.

_Hermione says he’s welcome._

She felt Harry roll his eyes but he told Ron what Hermione had said. Ron waved one more time and started off to join the group of potential Keepers. Harry started off after him, but moved towards the rest of the team rather than the Keepers.

The tryouts lasted nearly four hours. Two hours in, Harry flew up to the stands and took a seat with Ginny and Hermione, and fortunately Angelina did not notice his absence for another half hour. When she did, she flew to their seats and berated Harry for another five minutes, then sent him back into the air. Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off again, and Angelina huffed irritatedly as he did.

“The two of you are too disgustingly sweet,” Angelina grumbled to Ginny. “Otherwise I might have let him stay put.”

Ginny giggled and repeated what she said to Harry, who laughed on the other side of the pitch.

Ron was one of the last people to have his tryout. He saved all but one of the ten goals, and two of them he nearly missed. As he flew back to the ground, Ginny was getting worried about his prospects. He certainly had done better than quite a few other people, but there were two or three that seemed to have performed better than he had. She listened in on Harry’s talking with Angelina, and discovered that at least one of those who had done better than Ron was an absolute prick and not worth the frustration according to Fred, so Angelina wasn’t even bothering considering him. Another of the better Keepers had said to Angelina that Quidditch would end up low on her priorities list, which the Captain later mentioned to Harry meant her value as a player had gone down.

As the last candidate finished their tryout, Angelina blew her whistle, bringing hush over the pitch.

“I’m going to discuss with the team what they thought, and we’ll have the decision in just a moment,” she called. “Wait on the ground until it’s time to leave.”

Ginny closed her eyes and looked through Harry’s eyes, listened through his ears. Angelina was flying over to him, the Quaffle tucked under her left arm, followed by Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet. Fred and George were already hovering near Harry, having put the Bludgers away just a moment before.

“I want to know what you thought about the performance by these guys, less about how many saves they managed and more about how they acted and responded to their own performance,” Angelina said. “Definitely the best was Amanda Smiths, but she flat out told me that she’d put her other clubs and activities over Quidditch, and I’m not interested in someone who’s going to skip out on practice all the time.”

“That Fletcher bloke called me a bitch when I scored on him,” Alicia spoke first.

“I know, I heard him,” Angelina said with a sigh. “He seemed pretty good, but I don’t want to fight with my players.”

“Ron did well, and he’d get along with the rest of us fairly well,” Harry piped up.

“I realize that,” Angelina answered him. “But he nearly missed quite a few.”

“Better than most of the others though,” George commented. “I’d say he’s in the top five at the least.”

“I agree,” Katie said, looking over at Angelina.

“How’s it going?” Hermione hissed in Ginny’s ear, and her concentration slipped, her mind returning to her own senses.

“Ron’s in the top five,” Ginny said. “And two of the other top five are out because of their behavior and other commitments.”

“So he’s in the top three candidates, then?” Hermione asked.

“Looks like,” Ginny murmured. “Now, hush so I can listen.”

Hermione fell silent, and Ginny gathered her thoughts again, shifting back to Harry’s mind. It took a moment for the words he was hearing to clear up, sounding at first very distant and warped, but soon she was listening in and watching the discussions again.

“I think that third year, Bennet, is worth discussing before we move on,” Alicia was saying.

“He’s so little though, he barely could cover one goal, let alone three,” Katie argued.

“Yeah, but he caught almost all ten shots,” Alicia countered. “He only missed those three because of his broom being so slow.”

“Because it was a kid’s broom,” Angelina said. “I’d say he might be good for a reserve Seeker or even Chaser, but not as starting Keeper.”

“And Williams?” Fred asked. “She did almost as good as Smiths or Fletcher.”

“No, she missed an easy save,” Katie said. 

“And she failed to dodge the Bludger,” Angelina pointed out.

“I thought that was Bennet,” Fred muttered.

“Ron is looking like the best for the job, right?” Harry asked.

Angelina gave a nod. “He was pretty good, and I like knowing for a fact that he’ll get along with us fine, but I’m worried about how often he nearly missed the Quaffle. It seemed like he was extremely nervous, all through his trial.”

“He’d get over it,” Fred said with a wave of his hand. “It’s probably because his girlfriend is watching.”

Angelina shook her head. “I don’t like the idea of having a very good Keeper reduced to half-decency because of a problem with nerves,” she said.

“But he’s the only one who did well and didn’t act like a complete git,” Alicia said. 

“There is that,” Angelina sighed. She checked her watch, then glanced over her shoulder at the potential Keepers grouped on the ground. “Alright. It’s down to Ron and Anna Williams. Which of them performed better overall?”

“Ron,” Harry said at once. 

“Ron,” Alicia agreed.

“I’d have to say Williams, but only by a hair,” Katie said.

“I’m with Katie,” George sighed. “I’d love to have my little brother on the team, but the team needs someone who can handle the stress.”

“Ron can handle the stress,” Harry argued. “Give it time, he’ll be as good as Wood and just as confident.”

“Fred?” Angelina said. “What do you think?”

Ginny waited, she and Harry’s minds equally silent with baited breath as Fred thought over his answer. After a pause that was too long for comfort, Fred looked up to meet Angelina’s gaze.

“It’s your call,” he said. “But I think Ron would be better in the long run.”

Angelina gave a nod. “That’s it decided then,” she said. Then, without saying anything else, the Gryffindor Captain pulled her broom around and shot towards the group of Keepers. Ginny opened her eyes, using her own senses again, and watched her move towards the Keepers. 

She blew her whistle once more, and all the Keepers snapped to attention. 

“You all did very well, and the decision was definitely tough,” Angelina called. “But the team and I agree on the best for the job. The reserve Keeper will be Anna Williams, and the new starting Keeper is Ron Weasley.”

Ginny and Hermione jumped up in their seats and cheered; others in the stands did as well, the team clapped and George gave a whoop, Ginny could see Ron looking gleeful and bashful at the same time. Angelina blew her whistle once more, and the stands and team quieted.

“Weasley, Williams, head up here. The rest of you can head on to dinner,” Angelina said. “Make sure you stick around for dessert and get yourself something good, because you deserve it. Have a good evening!”

The rejected candidates filed out of the pitch, some with stooped shoulders, some with what looked like anger, but plenty looking pleased with their own performance even they were if a little disappointed. Ron and Anna Williams, a thin girl with pale brown hair cut close to her head, mounted their brooms and kicked off the ground. 

_Is there anything left to do?_ Ginny thought. 

_Probably just a quick introduction,_ Harry thought. _Fred and George won’t let Angelina run on too long, I can hear George’s stomach growling from here._

Ginny smiled softly. _I can hear your stomach growling from here, mister. Leave George alone._

Harry spun his broom around and stuck his tongue out at her. She laughed and waved a hand with a sweet smile.

She and Hermione waited for the team to finish up, while the rest of the onlookers in the stands started to leave, all but a few boys and a girl sitting several rows away from the two of them. As she and Hermione were waiting on Ron and Harry, Ginny guessed that they were waiting for Williams. Ginny half listened to Hermione talk over how she had been both sure Ron would get starting Keeper and terrified that he wouldn’t while she half eavesdropped on the players still in the air.

“… we’ll bring you out for practices on occasion, Williams, but you can expect that to be only once or twice a month. I’ll have to fill up the rest of the reserve ranks before that, however,” Angelina was saying.

“That’s fine with me,” Williams said. 

“I’ll have another tryout for that in two weeks,” Angelina said. “The Ravenclaw and Slytherin team are doing their tryout’s next weekend, so we’ll have to wait until the weekend after.”

“Angelina, how long are we going to sit here listening to you ramble?” George asked the Captain in a whine. “I’m starving.”

“You’ll sit there and listen to me ramble until I tell you that I’m done rambling,” Angelina said, waving a scolding finger at him. “And while you’re listening, you can stuff it.”

George gave an exaggerated groan. “But I’m so hungry,” he moaned, leaning back on his broom and clutching his stomach. 

“I said stuff it, George,” Angelina said.

“Hmph,” George said. Angelina faked throwing the Quaffle at him, and he ducked instinctively. She gave a satisfied nod and tucked the ball back under her arm.

“Ron, the next practice is this Wednesday night,” Angelina went on. “I’d like you to come early to practices to do laps of the pitch, say twenty minutes or so early. Williams, if you’d like to do the same, all the better. You can always stay and watch when you’ve finished.”

Ron and Williams nodded. Angelina looked around the group. 

“Alright, that’s all for now,” she said. “So your whining was all for nothing, George.”

“I’d like to think it made you wrap up sooner,” said George with a smirk. Angelina rolled her eyes at him and started towards the ground. “Get changed and get to dinner, make sure you eat a good amount, drink lots of water, get plenty of sleep; all that shit. Get out of here now.”

The team headed for the changing rooms, and Ginny, Hermione, and the other people who had been waiting for Williams finally left the stands. Ginny crossed the pitch, heading for the changing rooms, and after a moment’s hesitation Hermione followed. The others did as well, however when they reached the changing rooms, the boys remained outside while the girl went into the girls’ changing rooms. 

_Can I come in or are there naked boys in there?_ Ginny thought.

_No one was naked to begin with, though Ron is currently shirtless,_ Harry thought.

 _I’ll risk it,_ Ginny replied. _Besides, Hermione’s reaction should be amusing._

 _Would she even come in?_ Harry asked.

“The coast is clear,” Ginny said to Hermione, rather than answering Harry. “You coming?”

“Uh, well, are we allowed in there?” Ginny asked.

“Seeing as the only boy in there that is not my brother is my husband, I am,” Ginny said. “And seeing as there is no one out here to stop you, I’d say you are as well.”

Hermione shrugged as Ginny pushed open the door and went inside.

“Warning, warning, cover your junk,” Ginny called, more as a joke than an actual warning. They rounded the corner and moved into the locker room. 

“Hi, Ginny,” called George and Fred together. 

“Do you have any boundaries?” Ron asked her, bent double as he toweled his hair. Ginny walked over to him and grabbed the clearly visible waistband of his underwear, then yanked upward.

“Nope,” she answered as Ron yelped and jumped away from her. Ginny walked over to where Harry was sitting, tying his trainers, as Hermione giggled and Ron turned beet red at the sight of her. Ginny plopped down beside her husband and kissed his cheek, then wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned on his bent shoulders. 

“Hi, love,” Harry said, giving her a smile. 

“Ew! Ew eww ewww!” Fred called. “No PDA!”

“Oh, shut it,” Harry said. Then he sat up and, turning to face her, planted a kiss on Ginny’s lips. Fred broke out in invigorated peals of “EW!” and Ginny smiled. 

“Harry, your wife is mean,” Ron whined.

“I don’t care,” Harry answered him.

“She gave me a wedgie!” 

“I still don’t care,” Harry said, looking over at him. Ron scowled, then yanked a shirt over his head. Hermione looked vaguely disappointed. 

“When did you get permission to come in here anyway?” Ron asked Ginny.

“I don’t see you asking Hermione that,” Ginny evaded the question. Ron blushed again, as did Hermione, while Fred and George laughed.

“Never mind,” Ron muttered to himself. Ginny rolled her eyes at him. 

When they left the changing rooms, the group of boys that had been waiting for Williams had left, and Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were just leaving the girls’ locker room.

“Good job today, Ron,” Katie called.

“Yeah, you did great!” Alicia said. 

“You know, non-team members aren’t actually allowed in the changing rooms,” Angelina said with a smirk.

Ginny shrugged. “I’ll tryout for Reserve Chaser, then.”

“You do that,” Angelina nodded. “That way we can have a team full of Weasleys.”

“Actually, she’s a Potter now,” Harry corrected.

“My bad,” Angelina shrugged. “A team of Weasleys and Potters.”

“Wouldn’t you three have to end up Weasleys or Potters for that to happen?” Ron asked.

“Maybe, are you proposing?” Katie said cheekily.

“I might be,” Fred said as Ron flushed again. It seemed to be Ron’s day for blushing. “Would you say yes?”

“Sure,” Katie said with a roll of her eyes. “As long as you buy me something nice.”

“What qualifies as nice?” Fred asked her.

“Why don’t you ask Harry, he’s been married,” Katie said with a shrug.

“What does she mean by nice, Harry?” Fred asked.

“I have absolutely no clue,” Harry said with a sigh. “My marriage was fairly weird.”

“Hey!” Ginny protested. “We haven’t even had the wedding ceremony yet!”

“Was that why I wasn’t invited?” Angelina asked.

“Yeah, it was,” Harry said. “It’s sometime after Christmas if you’d like to come.”

“Of course I want to come,” Angelina said. “You two will come as well, right?” she added to Alicia and Katie.

“Definitely,” Alicia said.

“Yeah, someone has to shower you in condoms, and I’m fairly certain these boys won’t, seeing as it’s their sister you’re marrying,” Katie pointed out. 

Ginny laughed as Harry blushed.

As they entered the Great Hall for dinner, Ginny began looking around for Luna. She wanted to ask her about the night before, what spell she had used to make such a lasting flash of light. She also wanted to ask her why she had done it, but as she scanned the hall, her dirty blond hair and radish earrings were absent. Her shoulders sank and she guessed that her friend was stuck in a detention.

Sunday finished with a game of Exploding Snap in the common room, which resulted in a disgruntled Harry losing to Ron and Hermione’s eyebrows being singed. Slightly. They went to bed content with themselves, and trying to ignore the thought of the next day’s work. 

Monday morning, as per usual, Tonks Floo called them to wake them up bright and early at 5 a.m. They spent an hour exercising, and another hour mock dueling Tonks and Remus. After more than a month of continuous and belligerent exercising, Ginny found herself out of breath less often and faster than ever; though she was always just a sore after they’d finished. The both of them were benefitting greatly from the training Tonks was putting them through, and Ginny could tell that Harry in particular was shaping up nicely. 

Tuesday was back to back boredom; a double period of History first thing, then Divination for Harry and Ron and Arithmency for Ginny and Hermione in which a review of algebra nearly put Ginny and Harry to sleep, followed by lunch where all there was were sandwich materials, and double Potions where Snape told them to quit talking and work numerous times even though all they’d been doing was asking Hermione what the instructions on the board meant, as they were quite helpfully extremely vague. By the end of the lesson, the surly professor had fined them twenty points for talking and another fifteen for the state of Harry’s potion, which was the exact same as Ginny’s and nearly as good as Hermione’s. It seemed that the quietness that had plagued Snape the spring before following the death of his mother had ceased, leaving the Potions Master almost as harsh and critical as he had been before.

As the afternoon ended and evening approached, Harry and Ginny prepared for their next lesson with Dumbledore. They spent nearly an hour in their room, envisioning their little house atop an asteroid guarded by dragons and robots, then taking turns trying to breach the house to get to the memories inside. It didn’t work, however, as each time one of them attempted to be offensive in accessing the other’s thoughts, the barriers they put up immediately retreated.

“Maybe we just can’t block each other’s thoughts except through the door,” Ginny suggested as they left their room at quarter to eight for Dumbledore’s office.

“Maybe,” Harry murmured. “But the door is getting weaker and weaker each time we use it.”

Ginny shrugged. “We’ve always been able to close it after it opens back up.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m worried…” 

Ginny slowed her steps, looking up at Harry’s furrowed brow and downturned mouth. “That it will stop closing altogether?”

He gave a nod. “Yeah. And if that happens, we won’t be able to keep any semblance of privacy.”

Ginny squeezed his hand. “I’m sure it will be fine. If it does start to refuse to close, it probably won’t happen for a while. And I’m sure that eventually we won’t even care anymore.”

He gave a nod. “Yeah, I know.”

 _Especially after Christmas,_ Ginny thought.

_Our wedding,_ he replied. He squeezed her hand back before letting out a sigh. _Maybe you’re right._

“Of course I’m right,” she scoffed. “Have you ever known me to be wrong?”

“In interest of staying on your good side, I’m going to lie and say no.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Git.”

“Hag,” Harry replied, smiling now.

Ginny shoved at his shoulder lightly, a smile growing on her own face. “Prick,” she said.

“Nagging wife,” Harry shot back, his grin negating his words.

“Lazy husband,” she said, though this was more than a little true.

“Hey, I do stuff for you,” he protested.

“Like what?” she asked haughtily.

Harry leaned closer to her, then whispered with a smirk close to her ear: “Among other things, I give you the good kind of shivers.”

Ginny shivered.

They reached Dumbledore’s office just a minute or two before eight, and knocked with the brass eagle on the great oak doors twice, just as a clock inside chimed eight.

“Enter,” called the Headmaster. They did, and took the proffered seats by the professor’s desk.

“I trust you have been practicing as best you can since our last meeting,” Dumbledore said with an incline of his head and a soft, fond smile.

“Yes,” Harry answered. 

“Very good,” replied Dumbledore. “Then we shall jump right back in. I will give you a moment to prepare, then attempt to breach your defenses, without warning this time.”

So went their lesson. By the end, Dumbledore was pleased with their progress and they’d managed to thwart him more than twice each. The clock showed ten ‘til nine, and Dumbledore finally announced their completion of the evening’s practice.

“Before you leave,” the Headmaster said as they were rising from their chairs, “let me give you a quick summary of what we will be doing next week.”

Ginny glanced at Harry, then sat back in the chair. It will probably take more than a few minutes.

Probably, Harry thought back as he resumed his seat.

“Next week, we shall be joined by your friend Abraham Vance,” Dumbledore said.

Ginny sat up straighter. “To discuss the book he was using?”

“Partly, yes, but primarily to discuss Voldemort’s pseudo immortality. He will be bringing his wife, Vanessa.”

“The Order found her?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “In a small village in Norway, with Philip and Aurora Sinestra.”

Harry’s fingers clenched on the arm of his chair. Ginny reached over and laid her hand over his, gently caressing his knuckles with her thumb.

“The Order found them just a few days ago; Philip and Aurora were turned over to the Ministry, and their trial was held today. I expect the Prophet will run an article on the results in tomorrow’s paper,” the Headmaster said. “It turns out that the initial reason that Abraham and his wife were kidnapped was not to translate the Black Book, but because of Mrs. Vance’s skill in voodoo.”

“Voodoo?” Harry said, his eyebrows drawing together. “Like puppet dolls and zombies?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore answered. “There is a lot of magic in the voodoo arts that was inspired by the ancient magicians, many of which regularly practiced necromancy and considered it a gray magic rather than a black.”

“How could necromancy be anything but black?” Harry burst out.

Dumbledore tilted his head backwards, his eyebrows lifting slightly and his glasses flashing as they reflected the light of the candles and torches around them. “This is a very good question, Harry. I believe that the thought was that the dead are good helpers, as they have no mind of their own to perform against the will of their master. If a servant was unable to betray its master or refuse to work, then it would be the ultimate slave, would it not? At least, this is how I’ve attempted to see it the way the old magicians did.”

“But they couldn’t think for themselves, they were stupid, literally,” Ginny said.

“Yes, but I assume that the enchanted dead were capable of performing small tasks, leaving the complex and more difficult ones for their master.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Harry mumbled. “But it’s still a black magic now, right?”

“The art of necromancy was declared a black magic in 1864, by the International Confederation of Wizards,” Dumbledore replied. “During the Muggles of the United States’ Civil War, there were numerous wizards who chose to fight alongside the North or South, and quite a few used necromancy to bring back fallen soldiers to fight as well. Of course, seeing their fallen friends up and moving and fighting again terrified the Muggles, which quickly lead to the Magical Congress of the United States banning it themselves, prompting the ICW to officially declare it a black magic.”

Harry gave a nod. “The dead should stay dead,” he mumbled. Ginny squeezed his hand quickly.

Dumbledore slowly nodded his own head, his gaze fixed on Harry with an expression that was unreadable. “A wise insight, Harry. The dead should, indeed, remain dead.”

There was silence for a moment, broken only when Fawkes let out a soft trill, and Dumbledore glanced at his clock. 

“It is nearly nine o’clock, so I shall let you return to your rooms,” the Headmaster said. “I will see you again next week. Please continue to practice what you can in the meantime.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said, rising from his chair once again. “Have a good night, sir.”

Ginny gave Dumbledore a wave as they left the office, her hand held firmly in Harry’s. 

They didn’t speak on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. They met no one, except for Mrs. Norris, but that was right outside the portrait hole so as she whisked off to fetch Filch, they were unconcerned. They entered the common room, which was still half full of students, studying and laughing and discussing amongst themselves, and parted at the stairs to climb up to their private quarters. They readied for bed, and fell asleep just as the clock on their mantle struck ten.

**HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG**

The fire was burning down to its embers. This was the only source of light in the room, casting long shadows over the room with its tables laden with flasks and crystals and herbs. A gold cauldron sat over a dead fire, its dull blue contents shimmering slightly in the light coming from the dying hearth. Laying on the hearth rug, curled and coiled almost like a dog, slept a massive python.

A single armchair sat before the fire, in which sat the only man in the room. Though this man could barely be called a man, he could barely be called a human. It had been a very long time since ‘human’ was an adjective that could be used to describe this man.

The man spoke, but not in English or any tongue a normal man would understand. However, the python laying at his feet could, and she stirred, her head rising and casting a curious shadow over the man’s lap.

“It won’t be long now, Nagini,” hissed the man. “Not long at all. I’ve waited years to return to power. Now my chance is looming.”


	41. Fear, Cruelty, Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo what's up how you doin' (don't deny it, you read that in Joey's voice) what do you think so far? leave a comment, maybe a kudos? my entire life is powered by comments and kudoses. kudoi? kudos? idk what the plural is. enjoy!

**Chapter Forty-One  
Fear, Cruelty, Protection  
Ginny**

The end of September was in sight, and Harry was feeling a giddiness growing in the pit of his stomach the closer and closer the dates were to Christmas holiday. At breakfast Wednesday morning, Ginny received a letter from her mother to tell her that Halloween weekend they would be returning to the Burrow to begin preparations for their wedding. Harry smiled at the thought of returning to the Burrow earlier than planned, and even more so at the thought of their wedding. He was a big sap, and he knew it, he couldn’t wait to properly marry his wife.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” Ron grumbled later that day, as he was prodding a frog with his wand in hopes that it would fall silent. “How come you two get to go home over Halloween and I don’t?”

“Ron, I imagine that they’ve got to get fitted for their wedding robes,” Hermione pointed out, waving her wand with a small flourish and adding a command of “Silencio!”, at which her raven fell silent mid-crow.

“Yeah, but they’re not having the wedding until Christmas!” Ron continued to complain. “Silencio!”

His frog let out a particularly loud croak and hopped off the table. He scowled at it, until Ginny jabbed her wand in its direction and summoned it. 

“Christmas is barely a month after Halloween, I’m surprised Mum hasn’t called us back to work on this before now,” Ginny said as she shoved the frog into Ron’s chest. “Weddings take months to plan normally.”

“Yeah, how come she hasn’t called us yet?” Harry asked her.

“Because I told her before the term started that I have absolutely no idea what the hell a wedding is supposed to look like and that I honestly didn’t care about the tiny details.”

“You told Mum that she could plan your wedding for you?” Ron asked.

“I did,” Ginny said. “Unfortunately, she didn’t accept that. So we compromised, and she’s gotten everything necessary, three of each thing or whatever, and Harry and I just have to pick out which ones we like best.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Hermione said.

Ginny gave a nod, then flicked her wand at Ron’s frog. “Silencio!” The frog, its mouth open in a deep croak, was silenced, and its face arranged itself to express the biggest amount of shock and panic that a frog’s face could show.

“Hey!” Ron protested.

“You weren’t going to get it any time soon,” Ginny told him, “and its croaking was giving me a headache.”

This wasn’t true, Harry knew, she had just wanted the frog to stop croaking.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and sulked. “I still think it isn’t fair.”

“Do you want me to ask Mum if you can come too?” Ginny asked with a sigh.

Ron’s sulky expression twitched, then he shrugged. “Sure.”

“Come to think of it, they both probably ought to come,” Harry said, “they’ve got to get robes for the wedding too, don’t they?”

“I have dress robes,” Hermione said quickly.

“But they’ve got to match Ginny’s dress, don’t they?” Harry said. “Aren’t maids of honor supposed to match the bride?”

“I’m the maid of honor?” Hermione said, her brow furrowing.

“Didn’t I already ask you?” Ginny asked her with a frown.

Hermione blinked at her. “No.”

Ginny’s frown deepened, then she shrugged. “Sorry. Would you be my maid of honor?”

Hermione simply rolled her eyes. “Sure, Ginny. I’m just glad you asked me before the wedding.”

“Did I ask you to be best man or not, Ron?” Harry asked.

“I don’t remember, mate, but my answer was yes if you did, and if you didn’t, it’s still yes,” Ron said. “But I don’t want to be all matchy with you if I don’t have to.”

“Shame, because you do have to,” Ginny said.

“Damn,” Ron muttered.

Ginny Floo’d her mother that evening before dinner to ask if she could get permission for Ron and Hermione to come with them over Halloween weekend, so they could get robes for the wedding as well. Her mother said yes, and thanked her for reminding her about the two of them. Mrs. Weasley said she’d ask Harry’s grandmother to give the Grangers a call, as she still had no clue how to use a ‘phely-tone’. 

“It’s called a telephone, for starters,” Harry mumbled under his breath as Ginny and her mother said their goodbyes.

“I heard that,” Ginny called.

“I’m going to make a cup of tea, dear,” Harry said hurriedly, and left the lounge as quickly as possible without making it look like he was actually fleeing.

The week finished and October dawned with weak sunshine followed by pelting rain. On Monday morning, the Gryffindors and Slytherins all huddled under the few umbrellas owned by students on the lawn while Hagrid taught them about wolddwellers, little creatures like hobgoblins that lived in mud bogs. The next day, Tuesday, Dumbledore was called out to the Ministry for an emergency meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards, so their lesson for the week was postponed. The next morning, the front page of the Daily Prophet told about the sudden resurgence of Scourers in America and the huge attack the American wizard government had suffered the day before, explaining why Dumbledore had been called away so suddenly. The rain continued until the end of the week, and got so bad on that Saturday that Angelina had to postpone the tryouts for Gryffindor’s reserve team. Dumbledore was still too busy dealing with the ICW the following Tuesday, and on Thursday morning Tonks was unable to lead their dueling practice as she’d been called to America to aid in the hunt for the Scourers who’d led the attack on the American wizards the week before. 

Saturday, however, was their next extra lesson with McGonagall. The six of them, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna gathered in the Deputy Headmistress’s office while Professor Snape and McGonagall put the final touches on the potion they would be drinking to discover what their Animagus forms were. She had them all sit in armchairs or couches, and the only footstool in the room was claimed by Luna.

“Uyoga Isiyo ya Kawaida is a very tricky potion,” McGonagall said sternly. “You should all be very grateful that we have a skilled enough Potions Master on hand.”

They nodded, not wanting to actually thank Snape. A few minutes later, Snape murmured something to McGonagall, who nodded and Snape left. McGonagall drew her wand through the air over it, three times, then thick steam, more like smog, spilled from the cauldrons top and quickly covered the floor of the room. For a potion that had such disgusting ingredients as this one, the steam itself did not smell horrible, rather it was very sweet. The smell quickly made Ginny dizzy.

“Prepare yourselves,” their professor told them. “The potion is ready.”

The students all attempted to prepare themselves as best they could. Hermione murmured the incantation under her breath, Ron squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply before letting out a shaky exhale. Neville muttered something Ginny could not decipher under his breath, Luna simply leaned back in her armchair and closed her eyes, a serene smile on her face.

“After I give you the potion, you must say the incantation three times, clearly and properly, mind you. I will place a Full Body Bind on you so you do not get up and move around while in your hallucinations. Are you all ready?”

There was a quiet murmur of assent throughout the room. Ginny slipped her hand into Harry’s and gave it a squeeze. 

Professor McGonagall went around the room, handing out goblets of the potion. There was steam coming out of her own glass that reminded her of fresh baked scones. “You must drink all of it for it to properly take effect. Drink up.”

The taste was foul. Ginny swallowed, trying her best not to gag on it, and shut her eyes. She could feel it sliding down her esophagus, then plop into her stomach. She did not vomit, thank Merlin, but it was a miracle she managed not to. She opened her eyes, then blinked as the room suddenly swam before her. She was grateful McGonagall had made them sit before drinking this stuff, as she felt very lightheaded then. 

“The incantation, quickly.”

Ginny raised her wand, her hand shaking slightly. She half saw half heard the others around her doing the same, their hands leaving cream colored drag marks in the air. She blinked; that wasn’t right. 

Ginny aimed the wand at herself, then began rotating it in a figure eight midair. She murmured, slowly and three times, Witiri Uyoga Tengeneza Wanyama. Bright sparks shot from the end of her wand, circled her body, then burst into a tinier shower of sparks which all landed daintily upon her skin. Ginny stared down at the wand in her fingers, then watched as it was plucked from her grip by Professor McGonagall, though something was off about her appearance; Ginny couldn’t tell if it was her large green hat or the cat whiskers. 

“Lean back,” McGonagall commanded the group. Ginny did as she was told, letting her body fall backward onto the sofa with a soft thump. Her eyes widened as she looked up at the high ceiling; when had someone painted cherubs on it? And why were they shooting each other with arrows tipped with pink hearts?

She heard McGonagall say something else, though wasn’t paying much attention to it. Her eyes fell shut, then she felt her body stiffen slightly. Vaguely, she recalled the professor telling them earlier that she would be putting them in full-body binds to keep them from wandering off while under the effects of the potion, but Ginny felt sure that she had done that already. Probably ages ago. She tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. She stopped caring, though, and started watching the fireworks display above her. Across her mind, she could hear Harry marveling at either the same fireworks or possibly something else, though his thoughts were quiet compared to hers. 

She looked down, her eyes flicking around the room and over the tall green grass and the glistening blue surface of the lake beside her. She looked back up to the sky, taking another moment to watch the brightly colored stars dancing with each other, around each other, through each other. The stars danced downward, their light leaving trails of color through the air, to her and around her; the light carved intricate patterns into the air out of pure color.

“Ginny!”

The sound of her name produced sparks of vibrant red; she turned, her hair making a soft swishing sound that sent soft purple flares into the air, and looked for the source of her name. Harry was standing beside her, and his glasses were gone.

“Where are your glasses?” she asked.

“What glasses?” he asked; his voice produced waves of dark blue light, dancing around her. Ginny followed them with her eyes, then jerked her gaze back to Harry’s.

“The glasses you wear,” she said, taking a step forward. Her foot landed in squishy grass that gave way beneath her, and she plummeted down; down; down; she landed upon a pillowy lavender cloud that bounced underneath her and made a bright yellow sound, tossing her up into the air before falling back down. Harry lay next to her, his eyes wide at having suddenly fallen into the sky. She looked at him.

“This is the hallucination part, isn’t it?” Harry whispered.

Ginny giggled. She wriggled across the cloud to him and lay her head on his chest. The sound of his beating heart was comforting, mellow rusty red spots appeared above her vision at the sound. Harry locked his arms around her, his lips pressing against her hair. She felt the cloud rotating slightly beneath them, and when she looked up they were laying on a lily pad on the lake, surrounded by soft pink blots of neon light that floated gently upon the current of the wind. Ginny sat up, looking around with wide eyes. She heard a quiet sound, soft orange swirls floating towards her, and turned her head to find the noise. Harry saw it first, and he yelped lightly, making green lightning bolts. 

“What?” Ginny said, turning again.

“There’s a snake in the water!” Harry cried. “Quick, quick, get up, it’s probably venomous!”

Ginny spotted it; a long black and red banded creature, sliding through the royal blue water with its eyes fixed on them and the lily pad. She didn’t move, her mouth hanging open, frozen in both fear and wonder. The snake lifted its head from the water, its tongue shot out in their direction, and it slipped its slender body onto the lily pad.

“Greetingsss…” the snake’s voice was quite, sending dark green ripples through the air and water. “I had wondered if I would be the firssst to find you.”

“… the hell?” Harry muttered.

The snake raised itself up to level its gaze with Harry’s, a hiss slipping from its lips in a wave of soft orange. “I am the fear in your eyesss. I am the anger in your belly. I am the hunger for blood in your mind. I am your ssservant.”

Then the snake bowed to him, its eyes falling shut, and its head rested upon Harry’s knee, becoming still. Harry looked up at Ginny. 

“Is this my… my Animagus form?”

Ginny stared at him for a moment, then she shrugged. “I have no clue.”

The snake suddenly sprang to life; it shot forward and coiled itself around Harry’s arm, sliding up into his shirt sleeve. Harry shouted, jumping up in fright, the snake’s head poked out at the neck of Harry’s shirt, then back down to slid across to the other side of his shoulder. Ginny could feel the ghost of its scales sliding across her own skin as it moved over Harry’s. Its head came out of the other sleeve, its tail wrapped around Harry’s arm, and raised up its head. The skin of its neck flared into a hood, and it bared its fangs. 

“I am one of three,” the snake said. “Exsspect what you do not imagine you should see.”

Then the snake vanished. Harry’s shirt fell flat against his skin, no longer being held up by the body of the snake. Harry looked up at Ginny, his eyebrows raised. “One of three?” he muttered.

“There are two of us,” she pointed out.

“Three is more than two,” he said.

Ginny paused. “That’s true.”

Harry looked around again, his mouth set in a deep frown. “I don’t understand any of this,” he muttered; the depth of his voice making dark blue lines swirl around him. Ginny shuffled on her knees to him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

“We’re hallucinating,” she mumbled. “It’s not supposed to make sense.”

The lily pad rocked; they looked up to see that the lake had tripled in size and they were being buffeted away from the shore. Lightning flashed beside them and the lily pad turned to wood under the brief illumination. The wood rose up at the sides, forming a large bowl. The water threw them upward, then slammed them back down. A spray of white foam flew up around them, hitting them with a bright blue splash and soaking their skin with an icy light. Ginny spat out water that tasted more like sea salt caramel that sea water. Harry grabbed her hands and pulled her to his chest, his arms holding her tightly. His lips found hers, pressing feverishly against her. The water quickly turned warm as it calmed, lightly lapping at their ankles rather than crashing over their heads.

“Well, lookee who we have here!”

Harry released Ginny, though she did not step away. A fat cat was hanging from a branch by its tail. The sea had vanished, and they stood at the edge of a river with deep emerald green water. The cat’s voice send strikes of pink through the air, almost as vibrant as the patches of pink fur scattered over its body. The cat’s head was a little off, disproportionate to the rest of its pink and brown body, as if it was slightly too large. Ginny guessed that the size of its head was to accommodate its wide, almost disturbingly so, grin.

“Harry and Ginny, sitting in a tree,” the cat cooed, “who knows, maybe they’re making babies!”

Ginny recoiled from the cat. “Buzz off,” she snapped. 

The cat laughed, the sound sending spirals of warm purple curling around its head, as it rocked back and forth on the branch. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much!” 

“Are you her Animagus form?” Harry asked the cat.

The cat giggled, biting its lip to stifle the sound. Then it swung up and around the branch, releasing its tail and somehow not falling immediately to the ground. Rather, it floated in mid-air and tip-toed over to them. It landed on Ginny’s head and settled itself down, becoming a rather comical fluffy pink hat. 

The cat lowered its head to get on eye level with Ginny, its grin never changing. “I am the cruelty in your heart. I am the delight in your soul. I am the desire you will always feel. I will be your servant.”

“Get off my head!” Ginny said, swatting at the cat’s face. The cat laughed again, more purple spirals dancing through the air, and jumped up, up, floating away with its tail waving lazily through the air. Ginny scowled after it, watching it hop through the air away and out of sight.

“Didn’t McGonagall say that these would all be real creatures?” Harry asked.

“She did,” Ginny answered.

“Then that is one fucked up real creature.”

Ginny laughed at that and pecked at his lips. “It’s better than yours, snake boy.”

“Oh shut up.”

Ginny did not have the chance to reply, as a strong gust of wind knocked them backwards and onto a flat sheet of wood, which took them down river much faster than it should have. They saw a sign on the river bank, proclaiming danger for all who passed down the river by it, however, they were moving much too quickly to give it any heed. The river and the jungle around it became less wild, the trees losing all their draping vines, the water became less green and narrower. The forest became much more familiar, almost identical to the one near her home in Ottery St. Catchpole. The wooden raft bumped against the riverbank and they toppled off of it onto the mossy ground. The raft quickly drifted away, shrinking out of sight until it had vanished completely not five feet from where they had landed. 

Something tickled the back of her neck. Ginny flinched and raised a hand to brush whatever it was away, her hand instead coming in contact with something soft, almost feathery.

“Harry…” she murmured. “Do you feel that?”

He nodded. Slowly, they both turned to come face to face with –

“A fox?” Ginny said.

“What were you expecting, a phoenix?” the fox asked. Its whiskers twitched.

Ginny glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye. She kind of had been.

“Follow me,” the fox said, butting its nose against Harry’s shoulder. It turned, and padded away with swift strides. It paused, looking over its shoulder, and raised its eyebrows in expectation. Harry shrugged, and stood.

Ginny sighed and stood as well. They followed the fox from the riverbank deeper into the forest. It said nothing for a while, either a few moments or several days, until it finally stopped, sitting on the edge of a craggy cliff overlooking a suburban area. 

“Look,” the fox murmured. “This is a time that has not yet come to pass.”

They leaned over the edge, to look down at the cottage directly beneath them. In the backyard, a man was playing with a young boy, tossing a ball between the two of them. The boy was laughing about something, the man grinning.

“It’s Sirius,” Harry murmured. 

“Watch,” the fox told them.

Another man exited the cottage, and called them in for supper. Sirius tossed the ball off to the side of the yard and held his arm out to the young boy, who ran up and hugged his side. 

“Come on, Dad, Papa made pie earlier!” the boy said excitedly to Sirius. 

“I know, I helped him!” Sirius laughed. 

“More like you hindered me,” said Remus, the man who had called them over. Ginny felt something warm growing in her heart at this sight. She took it as a promise that Sirius and Remus would one day have their happy ending, this little cottage with a bright young child to call their own. She felt Harry taking her hand and squeezed it gently.

“Follow,” the fox said quietly. They did, down the edge of the cliff and to the level ground of the suburbs beneath the cliff. They passed by Sirius and Remus’s cottage, where they saw through the window the little family sitting down to dinner. The fox halted outside the next cottage, and they looked through the window.

“It’s Ron, and Hermione,” Harry said. 

“Aww, look at the baby,” Ginny cooed softly, smiling at the sight of the redheaded infant in Hermione’s arms. “Oh, he’s so cute!”

“The little girl looks exactly like Hermione,” Harry murmured.

“But she’s got Ron’s eyes,” Ginny sighed. 

“They look happy,” Harry said.

“Keep following,” the fox told them.

In the next house, they saw Fred, George, Angelina and Katie playing a board game together with three little children, then Ginny’s parents sitting by their hearth, her mother knitting a tiny sweater while Charlie read aloud from the Daily Prophet. The next house held Percy, who was helping a little girl with auburn hair do her homework. In the next cottage, Neville was bustling around in a frilly blue apron, making tea while Luna sat with her feet up on a poof and her hands resting on her belly swollen with pregnancy. With each house, Ginny grew confident that this was her future, that there would be a happy ending for them, all of them, eventually. 

The fox finally stopped at the end of the row of houses and stepped closer to the window of this cottage. Ginny and Harry leaned in to see better. 

A boy with freckles and very dark red hair ran down the stairs, waving a stuffed dog through the air. Another boy and a little girl ran after him, the both of them yelling something that they couldn’t hear. The little girl, her red braids bouncing on her back, was grinning as she jumped up and down, her bare feet pale against the dark hardwood floors. The littler of the two boys looked very distressed, his bright green eyes already welling with tears.

A woman came into the room, calling for quiet as she tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. Ginny gave a soft gasp as she recognized her own eyes in the woman, who snatched the dog out of the older boy’s hand and handed it to the other boy. A man followed her, one with unruly black hair and round glasses, a man that Ginny could see as Harry in a few years time.

“Is that us?” Harry whispered.

“Yes,” said the fox. “Watch.”

As Ginny’s older self was scolding the three children, Harry’s older self pushed his hand through his hair, exposing his forehead. Which was blank.

Harry raised his hand to touch his scar. “That’s… where’s my scar?” he muttered.

Then a second man entered, one very similar to Harry but several years older appeared going by the gray in his dark hair and the laugh lines by his eyes, holding in his hands a tray of cookies. He said something to the children, who all jumped up and down clapping their hands before quickly stifling themselves and standing still, or as still as young children could. Ginny’s older self smiled at the other man, touching his shoulder and moving out of the room. The older Harry sighed and took a cookie, earning a shout of protest from the three children. Before they could see him reply, a second woman appeared, standing directly in front of the window. They jumped back, startled and expecting her to cry out, however, she didn’t notice them. Rather, she pursed her lips and opened the window, saying as she did, “Harry, it is much too pleasant outside to leave all these windows open.”

“Whatever you say, Mum,” the older Harry called over his shoulder.

“Lily, would you believe that these three rascals are willing to be calm in exchange for their granddad’s famous snickerdoodle cookies?” called the second, much older man.

“I would believe anything of these three,” said the second woman. Ginny realized that her hands were at her mouth, in shock.

“Grammy, Jamie stole my dog!” the littler boy called out.

“Now why would Jamie do that?” said the woman, approaching them.

“He was going to see if it wouldn’t catch fire like my dragon!” the little girl said with a broad grin.

“Now, Jamie, you know that Lily-Luna’s dragon is specially charmed,” the older woman said, and she kept going but at that point, Ginny wasn’t listening, she was staring at Harry, who was staring almost blankly in the window. The only expression on his face was the way his eyebrows were knit together and the way his mouth hung slightly open.

“Harry?” she whispered. 

“Are those….” His voice broke.

“Dad! Where did you put the butterbeer?” called the older Harry to the man with graying hair.

“Your parents,” Ginny said.

“But…”

“They’re dead…”

The fox stepped away from the cottage. They didn’t move. 

“Look around,” called the fox.

They did, and saw the color fading from the all the cottages. Across the road, they saw Fred and Katie and a child opening a door, presumably to their home. But then the house caught fire, and Ginny didn’t even have time to scream before the entire neighborhood was aflame, each cottage burning down. Remus and Sirius’s cottage was gone in seconds, but the two men and their child were still there, standing stock still with the ghosts of their smiles still on their faces that were slowly melting from the flames. Ginny spun around, to see the three children, and Harry’s parents, frozen in place as they were consumed by the flames. 

And she did scream. She screamed in horror and shock and pain as the fire took the house, the children, Harry’s parents. 

“I am the need to protect your loved ones. I am the horror you will feel. I am the cunning you will use to defeat your enemy. I am your slave.” The fox’s voice was almost as bright as the flames.

The fire burned all around them, and the fox sat itself between their feet, its head held low to the ground almost as if in shame. Harry dropped to his knees, his face tortured. 

Hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her sharply. Ginny saw nothing but the flames, but heard a far off voice, calling her name and Harry’s. The fire was consuming everything and leaving the people where they were, slowly burning. She saw Harry’s parents collapse into piles of ash, then Sirius and Remus, then her own parents, Fred, George, Charlie, Ron, Neville, Luna, Hermione; everyone, every man, woman, and child, became ash until no one was left but herself and Harry, and their older selves.

Slowly, their older selves rotated where they stood, their faces not fixed the way everyone else’s had been, but displaying shock and hurt, something akin to betrayal. 

“You did this,” they said. “This is your fault.”

“No,” whispered Harry. “No, I didn’t do anything!”

The two began to move, shuffling forward, their flesh melting to make a gruesome sight. “This is your fault!” they shouted. “You could have done something! You could have saved them!”

“No! I didn’t do anything!”

“Exactly! You did nothing! You could have saved them!”

“Harry, wake up!”

The fire vanished. Ginny blinked, once, twice, then rubbed at her eyes. She was in Professor McGonagall’s office, sitting next to Harry on a soft couch. McGonagall and Sirius were leaning over them, their faces concerned. Ginny met Sirius’s eyes and recalled the little boy that he’d been playing with. Hot tears swelled in her eyes, and she quickly buried her face in Harry’s shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” Professor McGonagall demanded. “What did you see?”

“It’s not my fault,” Harry mumbled. “I didn’t do it.”

“What’s not your fault?” Sirius asked. 

_It was a hallucination,_ Harry thought. _It won’t be real. It couldn’t be. It was just a hallucination._

_What if it is?_ Ginny asked.

_No. No, it won’t be. I’ll make sure it won’t._

“What did you see?” Professor McGonagall repeated.

“Nothing,” Harry said, his voice shaky. “It was nothing.”

“Ginny was screaming,” said Hermione. Ginny lifted her head, to see that the other four had already gotten up, and they were all standing around them.

“You were out of it much longer than you should have been,” Sirius said.

“I… we had a vision, of sorts,” Ginny muttered.

“What was it?” McGonagall asked.

Ginny shook her head. “It couldn’t be real,” Harry murmured. “It couldn’t.”

“What happened?” asked Sirius.

“We can’t tell you,” Ginny whispered.

“Why not?” Sirius asked.

“It can’t be real,” Harry said again. “There’s no way it could.”

“But…”

“It can’t. My parents… my parents are already dead.”

“What?” Sirius said. “Harry, what happened?”

“They can’t tell you,” said Ron.

Ginny looked up at him, surprised. The two adults did as well, their faces startled. Ron shrank back a little, then straightened his shoulders. “They said they couldn’t say, and that it couldn’t be real. That’s all they’re going to say.”

“He’s right,” Harry sighed. Professor McGonagall turned back to them with a huff.

“Very well,” she said. “At least tell us what animals you saw.”

“A snake, a pink cat, and a fox,” said Harry shortly.

“Wait, what?” Sirius said. “You saw three?”

“I think the snake is his,” Ginny said, her voice still shaky. “It addressed him mostly. And the cat is mine.”

“You saw three though?” Sirius asked again. “Really?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “The snake talked to me, the cat talked to Ginny, the fox… the fox talked to both of us.”

“A pink cat though?” Hermione asked.

“Could we discuss this a little later?” Ginny asked. “I would like some water.”

“Of course,” Professor McGonagall said, giving her wand a flick, and a glass of water appeared floating in the air; she took it and handed it to Ginny, who took a deep sip from it. Harry took it from her and took a gulp.

“So, a pink cat,” Sirius said.

Ginny nodded absently. “It had a large grin, and it hung from a branch by its tail. And after it was done talking, it floated away.”

“A Cheshire Cat!” Luna said.

“Those are fictional,” Sirius said.

“No, they’re not actually,” Hermione said. “Lewis Carrol was a maizoologist.”

“And what was the snake?” Neville asked.

“It, um, it was black, and had red bands,” Harry said.

“There are a lot of red and black snakes,” Sirius sighed.

“It had a hood, with a pattern on the back of its hood,” Harry said. “It looked like a star.”

“Well, you know what it looks like,” Professor McGonagall said. “Once we begin the process for you to transform into these animals, you can find out what exactly they are. But for now, I believe it would be best if you returned to your rooms to rest.”

Harry nodded, setting the glass of water on the professor’s desk. Sirius helped them up, then Professor McGonagall took a jar of Floo powder from her mantle. “It would be best if Floo’d directly there,” she said, gesturing them towards the fireplace. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, his arm already wrapping around Ginny’s waist. They stepped into the green flames, and out into their lounge in Gryffindor tower.

Ginny dropped onto the sofa and leaned her head back, covering her face with her hands with a heavy sigh. Harry set himself beside her, his body enveloping hers, his warm weight sending a feeling of safety through her.

“What the hell did that mean?” Ginny murmured.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “It can’t be real. It was just the mushrooms.”

“But what if… what if part of it was?”

“My parents are already dead, so all of that was impossible. What they said… It won’t happen.”

“No, not that,” Ginny said, lowering her hands slowly. “I just… what if it meant something?”

“Like what?” he asked quietly.

“Like,” Ginny looked around the room, trying to find the words to explain what she was thinking. “I don’t know…”

“Like that fire was just a metaphor?”

“Yes, and the fact that your parents being alive making it impossible means that all of it was.”

Harry shook his head. “I won’t let that happen. We’ll defeat Voldemort, and everyone will make it out okay.”

Ginny heaved another sigh but nodded. “I hope so,” she murmured.

Harry took her hand and squeezed it. “I won’t let Voldemort and the Death Eaters take away our family and friends’ chances at a happy life. I won’t.”


	42. The Impossibility of Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw just so you guys know these frequent updates are bc this story is being posted to FF.net and this is just so it catches up to FF.net sooner

**Chapter Forty-Two**

**The Impossibility of Reality**

**Harry**

 

 Not long after they collapsed onto the sofa in their lounge, Harry pulled Ginny up and led her back towards their room. Despite it being mid-afternoon, they were both tired and in desperate need of a rest. They flopped down on top of the blankets, Ginny curling into Harry’s side, Harry locking his arms around her. Her fingers played with the edge of his shirt, brushing against the skin of his side, comforting him as they fell asleep.

 

 Harry didn’t recognize the dimly lit room. There were candles everywhere, and a fire burning in the hearth. An old man sat in an armchair by the hearth, fast asleep. He was snoring ever so softly, so that the woman in the rocking chair across the room, knitting by the light of the flames most likely didn’t hear him. The woman did not respond to either Harry or Ginny’s presence, just continued to count her stitches.

 

  “Three times, he knocked again,” came a soft whisper from the old woman. They turned, but she wasn’t speaking to them. Rather, she was speaking to empty air, her head turned down to gaze at her work. “And two times, he has come for him.”

 

    “And what will you do when he comes a third time, I know, Mother,” said a disembodied voice. Harry jumped, looking around for the source of the voice, but did not find it.

 

   “Take that off, please, it’s not meant for messing about,” said the old woman.

 

   “How did you know I was wearing it!” said the voice again, and there was a fluttering of fabric, then a young boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen, appeared from nowhere, folding up a an old cloak.

 

   “My sight might be gone, young man, but my hearing is not.”

 

   “Wha – your hearing?” the boy stammered.

 

   “Yes!” cried the old woman. “It’s not hard to find you when you’re flapping around in that thing.”

 

   “Flapping?” the boy protested.

 

   “Bat-like, I would say,” sniffed the old woman.

 

 The boy huffed. He folded up the travelling cloak in his arms and crossed the room to where the man lay sleeping; he laid it gently on the back of the man’s armchair, before tip-toeing away and back to the old woman in her rocking chair.

 

   “When he comes the third time, I am afraid it will be the last,” the old woman whispered. “He has been searching for him for many years. And it is getting so hard to hide from him now.”

 

   “Mother, why is Death hunting for father?” the boy asked in a hushed voice, and Harry drew in a sharp breath.

 

   “He took something from him,” the old woman said quietly, her voice dropping to a lower note than even before. “He couldn’t have known then what trouble it would bring.”

 

 The young boy sat quietly for a while, so that the only noise in the little room was the crackling of the fire, the clinking of the woman’s knitting needles, and the soft snoring of the old man.

 

   “What’ll happen if he finds him?” the boy asked. The woman stopped her knitting. She set it aside and leaned back in her chair.

 

   “I will stay,” she said. “I’ll take care of you. But it will be his time to go.”

 

 The boy hung his head, and rubbed at his eyes. The old woman leaned forward, reaching out to take the boy’s hands. “There, there, my pet, it wouldn’t be for long. We’d get to see him again after Death comes for us.”

 

   “But I don’t want death to come for any of us,” the boy sniffed.

 

   “We’ve had him for this long, and he’s not gone yet, pet,” the woman crooned. “It might be years before Death knocks on our door again to look for him. It has been years already.”

 

   “Which means that his time has to be running up,” the boy murmured.

 

   “That’s not how it works, pet.”

 

   “Are you sure?”

 

   “Yes, pet. We’ll have him for years and years to come.”

 

 The boy nodded, sniffing loudly. The man in the armchair shifted, and the cloak the boy had set on the back of the chair fell down, covering the man’s body, and causing it to vanish.

 

   “Would you look at this, Molly!” called Arthur, hitting his newspaper with his hand while Molly poured tea into mugs, the both of them sitting at the kitchen table at the Burrow. “The Wizengamot finally legalized same-sex marriage!”

 

   “About time,” Molly sniffed.

 

   “I wonder why it took them so long,” Arthur mused. “It’s 2002 already. We’ve seen the end of two great magic wars, the turn of the century; half the other Wizarding nations had it legal for ages, and another third made it legal before You-Know-Who disappeared!”

 

   “Careful, Arthur, the grandchildren will be getting up soon, I don’t want them asking about that again,” Molly chided him.

 

  “Sorry, dear,” Arthur said with a sigh, adjusting his glasses and going back to his paper.

 

  “What just happened?” Harry asked Ginny.

 

   “I don’t know,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Maybe it’s the mushrooms.”

 

 Harry looked over at her; they met eyes and stared at each other for a moment before Ginny sniggered. “Maybe it’s the mushrooms,” he repeated with a chuckle.

 

 Ginny started to giggle as well. “We drank magic mushroom stew,” she said.

 

 Harry grabbed the edge of the counter for support, he was now laughing so hard. “Funny mushroom stew,” he wheezed.

 

   “Supernatural mushroom stew,” Ginny laughed, now leaning on the counter, too.

 

Harry snorted again. “Okay, stop with the mushrooms, I think something important is happening.”

 

 Ginny stifled another snicker. “I’m sorry, it’s just, we drank magic mushroom stew earlier.”

 

 Harry tried to not laugh, then his face broke into a grin and he giggled. “Stop it, Ginny!” he scolded her. “Something important is happening!”

 

   “What are you two snickering about back there?” Molly called. “Go get your little ones, tell them that Grandma wants their help in making pancakes.”

 

   “You really want them to help you make pancakes, Mum?” Ginny asked. Then she frowned. “Little ones?” she murmured.

 

   “You know, your children?” Molly said. “Honestly, Ginny…”

 

 Harry glanced at Ginny, who shrugged. “I still blame the mushrooms.”

 

 Harry sighed, then chuckled, shook his head and started out of the kitchen. “Erm, remind me, Mrs. Weasley –”

 

   “How many times do I need to tell you, call me Mum, Harry!”

 

   “Sorry, Mum, remind me which rooms the kids are in?”

 

   “The boys are in Fred and George’s old room, the girls are in Ginny’s old room. Just send them all down.”

 

   “How many kids did we have?” Harry asked Ginny in a hushed whisper.

 

   “I don’t know, you’re the one with the sperm,” Ginny said to him.

 

   “What – you’re the one with a history of seven kids per family!”

   “That was all Dad, please, Mum had three siblings.”

 

  Harry spluttered. “I’m an only child!”

 

    “That’s not the fault of your parents, so that argument is invalid.”

 

 Harry continued to splutter and bluster all the way up the stairs. Ginny knocked on the door to her room, or her old room, apparently, and opened it. Then, she said: “Okay, I know that we didn’t have all these kids.”

 Harry stuck his head in the room and raised his eyebrows. There were seven girls, as far as he could see, all spread out over mattresses on the floor. The girl closest to him, who seemed one of the older ones, had tightly curled black hair and dark skin.

 

   “Yep, we didn’t have all of them,” Harry said.

 

   “I’m assuming now that all of my brothers had at least one girl, or two of them had two,” Ginny said. “And probably Ron had one with Hermione or Fred or George married Angelina. Or Lee Jordan, and they adopted.”

 

   “Do we have one?” Harry asked, ignoring the comment about either Fred or George marrying Lee Jordan.

 

   “Um,” Ginny sighed. “I’m going to decide right now that we will have one girl. That’s exactly how that works.”

 

   “I’d always thought two girls and two boys,” Harry said. “That way it’s even.”

   “Two is even,” Ginny said.

 

   “Yeah, but if there’s just two, they might not always like each other. With four, they’ve got at least one friend at all times.”

 

   “But… then three would be better,” Ginny argued. “Or even better, just one so I don’t have to have four pregnancies.”

 

   “But if we had just one, then they might be lonely, they’ve got to have a friend!” Harry said.

 

   “What about the dozens of cousins my brothers are apparently turning out?” Ginny asked.

 

   “They won’t always be around,” Harry pointed out.

 

   “Fine, not one, and not two, what’s wrong with three?”

   “Two of them might gang up on the other,” he said.

 

Ginny stared at him. “But with four, three of them might gang up on the other.”

 

   “Hey, at least I’m not suggesting more than four,” Harry pointed out.

 

   “You know what, we’re going to have just three,” Ginny decided. “Then you’re getting your pipes snipped because I’m not my mother.”

 

 Harry yelped and quickly covered himself. “Ginny!”

 

 She rolled her eyes. “Oh, calm down, I’m kidding. We’d take infertility potions, obviously.”

   “Mummy, Dad, what ah you doin’?”

 

 They stopped talking. A small girl with a long red braid was rising up from her sleeping bag, rubbing at her eyes with a fist. Ginny cooed quietly.

 

   “Oh, she’s so cute!” Ginny whispered.

 

 The little girl, maybe three or four, rose from her sleeping bag and tiptoed around the other girls, dragging a dark blue blanket behind her. She reached them and threw her arms around Harry’s knees. He grunted a little, startled. “Um…”

   “Mow-nin, Daddy,” the little girl mumbled.

 

   “Uh, morning… Lily,” Harry said.

 

   _“Lily?”_ Ginny mouthed.

 

 He shrugged; he had thought for a split second of the hallucination they’d had earlier, the three children that all looked like him, and Ginny, and what the little girl there had been called. But the girl seemed to like the name, or maybe his deciding then that Lily was a good name was enough for the mushroom-induced dream. Ginny sighed, accepting the name in silence.

 

   “Grandma wants help making pancakes,” Ginny said to Lily.

 

   “Pancakes!” Lily shouted, surprisingly loud for such a small child. Immediately, all the other girls in the room were up and they were running for the stairs; Lily doubled back and pressed the blanket she was carrying into Harry’s arms.

 

   “Hewe’s Gammy’s blankey,” she said to him before running off. Harry looked down at it, frowning.

 

   “What does gammy mean?” he asked Ginny.

 

   “Grammy, probably,” she said. “Seeing as she’s having trouble with ‘r’s.”

 

   “Oh,” he said. Then, “Is it your mum’s then?”

 

 Ginny shrugged. “Mum made us all new blankets as kids.”

 

 Harry turned it over in his hands; it was surprisingly soft as it looked so old, much older than the little girl who’d been sleeping with it. There was a smooth border of a slightly lighter blue on the edges, and as he looked over it, he found some faded stitching in one of the corners. He lifted it up, turning to let the light from the windows catch the embroidery.

 

   “Lily,” he read. “Did your mum make one for our kids, then?”

 

   “I don’t know,” Ginny said with another shrug. “Maybe, but it looks very old. Should we go see how many sons we have?”

 

 He nodded vaguely, folding up the blanket and draping it over his shoulder as he followed Ginny farther up the stairs. She opened a door, and leaned against it to survey the room.

 

   “We definitely didn’t have all of **these** kids as well as Lily,” Ginny said.

 

 Harry shrugged. “You don’t think we could manage to make six babies?”

 Ginny raised an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to go further with that suggestion. Harry laughed and shook his head; “Blame the mushrooms,” he mumbled. Ginny shook her head and turned to face the room.

 

   “Grandma wants help to make pancakes!” she called.

 

   “Pancakes!” shouted all five boys, and in a few seconds they were up and running for the first floor. Ginny turned to Harry with a content and pleased smile, who gave his own shoulders a shrug and started down the stairs after them.

 

 As he stepped down into the sitting room, he was faced with not the patchwork and mismatched furniture of the Burrow, but soft brown sofas and white carpeting. There was a table and a china cabinet in the room adjoining this sitting room, the table set for breakfast with plates of eggs and toast and glasses of orange juice already set out. Sirius appeared from another doorway, not noticing them, carrying a platter of kippers.

 

   “Sirius, what’s this?”

 

 Ginny and Harry jumped away from the stairs, yet Remus didn’t pay them any attention. He yawned and walked past them, towards the dining room.

 

   “Breakfast,” Sirius answered. “What does it look like?”

 

   “What are you making scrambled eggs and kippers for on a Wednesday morning?” Remus asked, but they could hear the smile in his voice.

 

   “Aren’t I allowed to make breakfast for the man I love?” Sirius asked with a sniff.

   “Of course you are,” Remus chuckled, pressing a kiss to Sirius’s cheek. Sirius smiled warmly at him and gestured for him to sit down. He did, and Sirius poured some coffee for him.

 

   “Did you break something again?” Remus asked. “You’re being awfully nice.”

 

   “No, I just felt like treating you,” said Sirius seriously.

 

   “If you insist,” Remus said, chuckling under his breath. Harry glanced at Ginny, wondering if they were intruding. Sirius handed Remus a copy of the Daily Prophet, who thanked him and opened it to the front page. Harry, feeling curious, stepped closer. Remus’s eyes flicked over the front page, then he almost choked on his coffee and jerked his gaze back to the middle of the front page.

 

 Sirius had already slipped out of his chair, lowering himself to one knee as Remus gaped at the headline that just moments before Arthur had been talking about with Molly, saying how so many other wizarding countries had legalized gay marriage from the very beginning. But Harry was stepping closer, not to look at Remus’s shocked gaze drifting to Sirius, who was now holding up a glinting gold ring, but to see the date on the Prophet.

 

_Wednesday, May 2 nd 2002._

 

 He smiled softly. So his godfathers would get to marry only a few years from now.

 

   “Marry me, Remus?” he heard Sirius say. “Now that we actually can?”

 

 Harry looked to Remus’s face, and saw the tears forming behind his broadening grin. Remus nodded, blinking away his tears, and Sirius took his hand, slipping the ring onto it. Harry stepped back, smiling still, and took Ginny’s hand. They didn’t need to stay. They’d seen enough.

 

 Harry opened the front door and stepped outside. The sunlight was bright, almost too harsh on their eyes. Harry blinked quickly, raising a hand to cover his eyes. Then the light dimmed and they were able to see their surroundings properly. Harry frowned slightly, as this area wasn’t as urban as he thought it would be. They were in fact standing in the middle of a forest, with a dirt path leading away from the house they’d just left and deep into the woods. Harry turned to look at the house, and raised his eyebrows to see a small cottage instead, with a thatch roof and stone walls. He looked to Ginny, his eyebrows still raised, who shrugged.

 

   “They’re weird,” she said, “maybe they decided to live out in the middle of nowhere.”

 

   “Maybe,” Harry murmured. He gave a shrug and started down the dirt path. Ginny followed beside him, still holding his hand. They could hear birds, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the trees, the sound of a forest untouched by the machines and smog of the Muggle cities.

 

   “It’s so peaceful,” Ginny whispered, her voice low so she didn’t disturb the woods.

 

   “Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe that’s why they’re here.”

 

   “I think so,” she answered.

 

 The dirt path slowly widened, the thickets becoming more controlled. As they walked, Harry saw a wooden sign nailed to a tree, carved with the words _PRIVATE PROPERTY: NO TRESPASSING_. He raised an eyebrow at it, wondering if they were trespassing, even in a dream. The sign repeated every so often, until they reached a tall, wrought iron gate and fence, with tall stone columns that were topped by majestic iron griffins; the trees stopped at the fence, followed by a long stretch of lawn, the dirt path leading up to an impressive but dark manor house.

 

   “Wow,” Ginny said softly, staring up. “Maybe it’s not the middle of nowhere.”

 

 Harry stepped up to the gate, looking at the intricate and complex looking lock. The gate was held shut by metal vines coiling around every bar, doubling in the thickness of the overlapping on the two middle bars, where the two halves of the gate were separated. He wondered how one would open it, as there was no keyhole or even a break in the vines.

 

   “Look at this, Ginny,” he said, raising a hand and brushing his fingers over the iron. It was warm from the sun, but as his skin touched it, the iron grew warmer, and the metal shuttered; the vines began to retract, releasing their grip over the gap in the gate. Harry stepped back quickly, his mouth hanging open, as the gate swung open.

 

 He looked over at Ginny. She just shrugged.

 

 They began to walk again, following the path up to the manor house. As they moved away from the gate, it swung shut again and they heard the vines grow back to lock it once more. They neared the steps up to the patio on the front of the house, the front door opened automatically for them. Harry peered inside, however the sunlight did not stretch very far inside, and he could only just see the dark paneled floor of an entryway.

 

   “Should we go inside?” Harry asked Ginny in a hushed voice.

 

   “Hell yes,” Ginny said.

 

 He looked at her. “What?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

 

   “We find a spooky manor house in the middle of nowhere, whose gate opens magically because I touched it, and the doors opened the second we set foot on the front porch,” he said. “And when I ask, should we go in, you say “hell yes”?”

 

   “If you’re too scared, then you can wait outside,” she told him, stepping past him and into the house. Harry sighed, and followed her.

 

 There were no lights on inside, and as they moved away from the door the light from outside proved even less helpful. Harry took out his wand, raising it as his lips formed the word _Lumos_ , when the door creaked behind them. He turned quickly, in time to see it slam shut. They both jumped.

 

   “ _Lumos!_ ” Harry cried quickly, and his wand tip ignited, casting the house in a soft blue light. Ginny drew her own wand, lighting its tip as well. Harry rotated slowly on the spot, looking for a light switch or a candle, anything to light more of the house than his wand.

 

   “What is this place?” he asked.

 

   “Harry, come look at this.”

 

 He turned, finding Ginny standing off to the far end of the room. The foyer was much larger and grander than Harry would have thought it to be, and as he crossed to reach her he realized that the floor was marble.

 

   “It’s a family crest,” Ginny said, her voice faintly echoing throughout the hall.

 

 Harry raised his wand up, doubling the light casted on the tall tapestry, black with a golden border at the top and bottom. There were two griffins, like the ones flanking the gate outside, standing on their hind legs with their wings unfolded. Both griffins held their front legs outstretched, and clutched in the talons of the forefront leg was a grapevine, with large clusters of grapes scattered all over it. Between the two griffins and held by the background talons of each was a shield, brown in color with a red arrow at the bottom and a silver band at the top, bearing a golden star on its center. Like the Hogwarts coat of arms, there was a helmet at the top of the shield and the leaves of the grapevines flanked it. There were words written both at the top and at the bottom, but the light did not reach the top of the tapestry. At the bottom, the words read: _Fuddugoliaeth Yn Dod Trwy Cyfiawnder A Nerth_.

 

   “It’s not English,” Harry said definitively, squinting at the words.

 

   “I think it’s Welsh,” Ginny stated.

 

   “Let me guess, your mother taught you how to read that too.”

 

   “Nope, I just know that few languages have so few vowels.”

 

 Harry’s gaze flicked over the words, trying to decipher what they might possibly mean. As he stared at it, the letters began to shake. Then they began to change, rearranging themselves and some morphing into completely different letters.

 

   “ _Victory comes through justice and strength_ ,” Ginny read them aloud.

 

   “I like that,” Harry said.

 

   “You would,” she answered, turning away.

 

   “So, whose crest do you suppose it is?” he asked her, following her as she crossed the hall again.

 

   “Not mine, certainly,” she answered. “Not enough orange.”

 

   “Have you seen the Weasley family crest?”

 

   “Once, I think. Its creed was in Gaelic, not Welsh, though.”

 

   “Well, of course,” Harry said.

 

   “And didn’t have griffins. I think there was a lion and a badger.”

 

   “What, like Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?”

 

   “I think so. Or maybe it was a weasel and a badger…”

 

   “Stairs,” Harry said.

 

 They stopped, Harry having realized that they had passed a flight of stairs. He glanced at Ginny, then started up them.

 

   “Where are you going?” she hissed.

 

   “Up,” he answered.

 

 Ginny heaved a sigh and followed him, their wands casting eerie light over the stone stairs. Harry reached a landing, and raised his wand higher to peer down a corridor. The stairs kept going up, but there was something at the end of the corridor… Something glinting in the light of his wand…

 

 Harry stepped towards it. Ginny followed behind him, her hand slipping into his. They drew nearer, and nearer, until the corridor ended and the light revealed a stone pedestal with a shallow silver bowl upon it.

 

   “What is that?” Harry asked.

 

 Ginny stepped past him, up to the pedestal and the silver bowl. She looked down into it, then waved her wand over it. “I think that it’s a Pensieve,” she said, looking up.

 

   “What’s that?” he asked her.

 

   “It’s a vessel that can contain memories,” she told him, looking back to it with a furrowed brow. “Dumbledore has one, he took some of my memories about my dreams last year, remember? I’ve never seen one in person, just in books. They’re very rare.”

 

 Harry stepped up to the Pensieve and looked down at the contents; the liquid inside was more like a vapor, silver in color like the bowl but somehow different. From the side, the bowl seemed very shallow, but now that he was looking directly into it, it seemed impossibly deep. Faint images and words formed in the silver vapor, only to vanish before he could focus in on them.

 

   “How does it work?” he asked.

 

   “I’m not quite sure,” Ginny answered. “At least, I don’t know how you put memories in. But I do know that once they are in the Pensieve, all you have to do is touch it and you’re transported into it.”

 

   “What?” said Harry, looking up at her. “Transported?”

 

   “You get to live through the memory,” she said. “Experience it as a neutral party, invisible.”

 

 Harry raised an eyebrow, looking back into the bowl. He raised his wand, and let it hover over the surface of the vapor. Ginny grabbed his arm.

 

   “Be careful, you don’t know what memory you might be picking,” she said.

 

 Harry gave a nod, and flicked his wand cautiously over the surface of the bowl. The contents stirred, then an image, clearer than before, rose to the surface. He saw Hogwarts, the sun shining above and the battlements and towers destroyed. Harry gave a start, but before he could say a word, another surfaced, to replace the first. This one was of a tall black tower, shrouded in mist, but the mist was seeping away, across the land and the ocean, gathering speed, the image backing up as the mist overtook it. Harry frowned, peering closer, and saw a hospital room, empty but for a basinet. Everything in the room was white, but for a large blood stain on the sheets of the bed. Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the sight, but then the image was changing again, and he saw children playing with sparkling dragons.

 

   “Harry, be careful!” Ginny cried, but, too late, Harry’s nose had touched the surface of the vapor.

 

 Harry felt himself being yanked forward by the head, tugged rapidly into the shallow silver bowl that should not have been able to hold him, until he was falling into the sunny playroom, Ginny right beside him; they hit the carpeted floor, Ginny landing on top of Harry. He groaned quietly, and Ginny rolled off him.

 

   “I told you to be careful,” Ginny scolded him. Harry nodded as he sat up, rubbing at his back.

 

   “Come back!”

 

 A child ran past Harry, snatching at the tiny dragon, which was sparking bright colors. Harry gave a look around, seeing four total, then a woman sitting in a corner of the playroom, reading. Harry stood up and walked towards her, then started when he saw her bright pink hair. He wondered what Tonks was doing in this playroom.

 

 He heard a child’s cry and turned; Tonks looked up as well and closed her book. “Teddy, come here!” she called. One of the boys let go of the toy he’d been tugging on, and trotted over to Tonks. She leaned forward in her chair and fixed him with a level gaze.

 

   “What have I said about sharing?” she asked the little boy.

 

   “To always share,” mumbled the boy. “But I had it first, Mummy!”

 

 Tonks raised her eyebrows. “Does that mean that you shouldn’t share? That’s Jamie’s toy to begin with!”

 

 Little Teddy hung his head in shame. “I sorry, Mummy.”

   “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Jamie.”

 

 Teddy turned around. “I sorry, Jamie!”

 

 Harry looked at the other children, trying to tell which child was Jamie. A moment later, Teddy ran off to play with the dragons again and Tonks leaned back in her chair once more.

 

   “Kids,” she muttered to herself.

 

 The children and Tonks all froze, then slowly the colors began to drain from the playroom. The images blurred, swirling together, until they were uniform in color and shapelessness. Harry reached for Ginny, uncertain of what was happening. The swirling stopped, then began to reverse, and they were in Dumbledore’s office.

 

   “… I cannot press you to officiate it,” Dumbledore was saying.

 

   “It would work, yes,” said a woman, who was seated back from Dumbledore’s desk and staring blankly ahead. “I only worry what will happen to the boy, and to Ginny. Imagine how it would make the boy feel if the first time he spoke to his parents was through their ghosts?”

 

 Harry drew in a rapid breath, but then the image froze again and began to swirl once more. “No, stop, what was she saying?” Harry cried, running forward. He swiped at the woman, but his hand passed through her, draining her color as it did. Their surroundings swirled and swirled, then stopped. Harry turned back to Ginny.

 

   “I don’t know what’s happening,” she said before he could ask. The vapor began to reverse, rebuilding an image of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was full of students scribbling with long black quills, and a woman in pink walked up and down the aisles. Then again, it vanished and reformed, into a room with peach paint and broken toys all over it, a floorboard near Harry’s feet lifted up and out of place. Then, the Gryffindor Common Room, and Harry saw Remus and Sirius, much younger, and someone that Harry knew was his father. They were laughing, and Sirius had his arm over Remus’s shoulders. The colors drained and everything swirled into each other, and they were in a nursery, and Ginny was holding a baby in her arms. And again, swirling even faster now, almost making Harry sick, and it turned into dorm room that Harry had shared with Ron up until the year before.

 

 The door opened, and Harry walked in, much older than he was now, dirty, bloody, wearing robes that were ripped. He held two wands in his hand, and as he stepped inside he looked around, his eyes wide with an emotion that Harry could not recognize in his own eyes. He stepped towards his old bed, then fell onto it with a sigh.

 

 The image drained of color, but this time, instead of changing, it stretched. Then Harry realized that they were the ones stretching, being pulled up and out.

 

 They were in the corridor again. The Pensieve glowed innocently in their wand light. Harry fixed his gaze on Ginny, unsure of what he could even say. She held his gaze for a moment, but then her eyes drifted past his and over his shoulder. Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. Harry turned, looking for whatever it was that she saw.

 

 There was a fox sitting in the corridor behind them.

 

   “Sometimes what you see is very likely to come to pass,” the fox told them. “But sometimes, it just isn’t possible.”

 

 Harry clenched his fists. “You’re trying to trick us, aren’t you? You’re trying to scare us into thinking that we’ll lose. Well, guess what, I’m going to defeat Voldemort, and no one else is going to die for me. No one!”

 

 Slowly, the fox hung its head. It rose to all fours, and padded into the darkness.

 

   “Hey!” he shouted. The fox kept going. Harry started forward, shouting again. The fox broke into a run, and he chased it, Ginny right behind him; the corridor changed, its walls becoming moss covered and the floor grass, trees sprung up and Harry realized they were back in the forest, the fox ducking and dodging trees, the two of them right behind it.

 

   “Stop!”

 

 They froze, the sudden voice frightening them.

 

   “I thought I instructed you to leave that one alone.”

 

 The woods were gone as soon as they had appeared, they were now standing in a cavern light by torches with blue flames. The source of the voices were out of sight, but almost familiar.

 

   “I was just examining it.” This voice was familiar as well, but in a different way. It was much more feminine than the other, but at the same time darker.

 

   “It must be left where it is, it is too fractured to enter the mortal world.”

 

   “Yes, I know, but what if…”

 

   “What?”

 

   “What if you tried to fix it? Into two instead of one?”

 

   “Now that it has been made, it cannot be changed, at least not without great cost.”

 

   “What cost would that be?”

   “And why do you ask?”

 

   “I’m only curious.”

 

   “The destinies of three hundred and nine virtuous magic users.”

 

   “Three hundred and nine?”

 

   “Yes.”

 

   “Isn’t that a bit much, for two halves of a soul?”

 

   “It is, however, I am not the master of magic.”

 

   “What sort of destiny would the three hundred and nine need to be?”

 

   “You ask many questions, young one.”

 

   “Is that a question?”

 

   “Not in of itself.”

 

   “But what sort?”

 

   “They would need to be killed fighting to protect someone. The self-sacrifice would be enough to heal the halves into two distinct pieces.”

 

   “I see.”

 

 Footsteps echoed through the cavern, and suddenly a very large shadow appeared on the opposite wall, one that was ten times as tall as theirs. Harry grabbed Ginny’s arm and pulled, running away as fast as he could. But the shadows followed them, now distinctly two, a man and a woman’s; still larger than was humanly possible.

 

   “Would you tell me the story of how you convinced Mother to marry you again?”

 

   “Again? Haven’t I told it to you often enough that you could tell it to me?”

 

   “Humor me, please.”

 

   “I made her very angry, but then what I did ended up good and she turned out to be pleased. It had not been my intention to woo her through irritating her, but it worked.”

 

   “But the things you made, the ones that made her angry, tell me about them again.”

 

   “I made many things that irritated your mother.”

 

   “But those three, in particular, you know to which I am referring.”

 

   “Yes, I do. But let us save that for another time. There are eavesdroppers here. I suspect one of those your mother gifted.”

 

   “Who?”

 

   “Do you not smell them in the air? Do you not smell their fright?”

 

 Harry’s breathing caught in his throat. That made him even more worried.

 

   “No.”

 

   “Hmph. You got your nose from your mother, that’s for certain.”

 

   “Who is it?”

 

   “It is of no consequence. They will wake from their slumber soon.”

 

   “They?”

 

   “There are two.”

 

   “Two?”

 

   “Harry, Ginny, are you in here?”

 

 Harry raised his hands to rub at his eyes. He looked around, raising his head to search for the voice.

 

   “Are you two awake?” called another. Ron’s voice.

 

   “In here,” Harry said to them. He reached over and touched Ginny’s shoulder, but she hadn’t woken up. She seemed peaceful, so he didn’t wake her. He sat up, stretching his arms and shoulders.

 

 The door to their room opened and Hermione peeked inside. Harry saw Ron standing behind her, his hand covering his eyes. “Honestly, Ronald,” she muttered, waving to him. Harry raised an eyebrow at them.

 

   “Really?” he said. “Really, Ron?”

 

   “Hey, I’m not risking it,” Ron said, raising his hands up in defense of himself as he followed Hermione in.

 

 Harry shook his head at him, dropping his gaze to the bedspread. He yawned, then looked back at Ginny, though he still didn’t want to wake her.

 

   “So, what’s up?” he asked them, looking back up.

 

   “Well, we were wondering if you were feeling any better,” Hermione said. “McGonagall had us all rest in her office before letting us go, and even then she told us to straight to our dorm rooms and keep resting, until we were sure we’d gotten past the last of the effects of that potion.”

 

   “I think we’re okay,” Harry said, mumbling a little as he rubbed at his eyes. “We kept dreaming, but I think that it’s just the mushrooms.”

 

   “What was it that startled you so much?” Ron asked. “I know you said you didn’t want to say, but I got the feeling that you didn’t want to say it to Sirius.”

 

 Harry looked at him, a little startled at his clarity on the situation. Though it was half true, he most especially couldn’t tell Sirius, but Ron and Hermione had been in their hallucination too…

 

   “I don’t think I should tell you either,” he said finally, dropping his gaze as he was no longer able to hold Ron’s eye. “But… it wasn’t anything… anything that could actually happen. Ginny reckons that it was a metaphor of some kind, just a generic warning, but…”

 

   “Did you see something happen?” Hermione asked him, her eyes wide.

 

   “A village,” he admitted, “that burned down. But like I said, Ginny thinks it was a metaphor.”

 

   “Why?” Ron asked.

 

   “Because… because we saw a lot of people, the future of a lot of people, except my parents were there,” he said. “They were alive. But since they’re dead, what happened can’t actually happen.”

 

   “A metaphoric warning,” Hermione mused.

 

   “Yeah,” Harry said, his word ending in a yawn. “Metaphoric.”

 

   “Well, are you at least feeling calmer?” Ron asked.

 

 Harry nodded, then he glanced at Ginny. “Yeah, I think we’re good.”

 

   “Then, what did you see? Your animal forms, I mean,” he asked quickly, as he sat himself on the edge of their bed.

 

    “The first one was this long black snake,” Harry said. “It had red bands on it, and a hood with a red mark on the back of it, like a star.”

 

   “But there are a lot of red and black snakes, like Sirius said,” Ron sighed.

 

   “But very few with star-shaped marks on their hoods,” Hermione said quickly. “Was the snake swimming when you found it?”

 

 Harry nodded.

 

   “That sounds like a Star-Hooded Runespoor to me,” she said excitedly.

 

   “A what now?” Harry asked.

 

   “A Star-Hooded Runespoor,” Hermione repeated. “They’re a crossbreed of the regular Runespoor and certain kinds of cobras native to parts of South Asia and Northern Africa.”

 

   “Runespoors?” Ron said. “The three headed snake that Dark Wizards always have?”

 

   “That one, yes,” Hermione said.

 

   “I still don’t know what that is,” Harry said with a shrug.

 

 Hermione took a seat on the bed, preparing to launch into an explanation of Runespoors which was likely to end up being very long. Ron quickly cut her off: “It’s this three-headed snake, and each of the heads governs a different aspect of its life, direction and peace and anger.”

 

 Hermione looked a little disappointed that she didn’t get to share all she knew on the snake.

 

   “That’s a bit creepy,” Harry said, beginning to get worried. “And you think that my Animagus is a cross of that animal and a cobra?”

 

   “It could be Ginny’s,” Ron said. “In which case it would make perfect sense. She’s scary sometimes.”

 

   “No, it talked to me,” Harry said. “Can that snake talk normally?”

 

   “No, but it can mimic the sound of human voices,” Hermione said, “it often pretends to be a crying child to lure adults into its nest so it can kill and eat them.”

 

   “Definitely creepy,” Harry said. “Why would I have that as my Animagus?”

 

   “What did it say to you?” Hermione asked. “I know mine said three things about me.”

 

   “It said…” Harry trailed off. He wasn’t much more fond of what it had said than of the snake itself. “It said that it was the fear in my eyes, the anger in my belly, and the hunger for… for blood in my mind…”

 

 There was silence for a moment. Then, Ron broke it with: “Are you sure that it’s not Ginny’s?”

 

   “Ron!” Hermione scolded, as Ginny finally stirred. Harry turned his attention away from them to her, reaching over to take her hand.

 

   “Are you awake now?” he asked her.

 

   “No,” she mumbled, shifting closer to rest her head on his thigh. He pulled his hand away and set it on her shoulder, rubbing back and forth absently.

 

   “Are you done now?” Harry asked them, looking up.

 

   “– rude as you are – oh, yes, sorry,” Hermione cut herself off, looking away from Ron.

 

   “As I recall, yesterday afternoon you didn’t care about me being rude to my sister,” Ron said. Hermione's cheeks turned red and she covered her face with her hands. Harry rolled his eyes at them.

 

   “I’m sure that the snake not Ginny’s form, because that would make the fluffy pink cat mine,” Harry said to them.

 

 Ron laughed loudly, leaning back as he did and clutching his stomach. Hermione looked sideways at him, a scowl growing on her face still, and then he suddenly gasped and fell off the bed.

 

   “Hermione, you did that on purpose!” Ron shouted from the floor.

 

   “What?” Hermione sniffed. “I did nothing.”

 

 Ron popped up past the foot of the bed, glaring at her. She stuck her nose in the air and looked away.

 

   “Cut it out, or I’ll make you leave,” Harry said. “Ginny’s still sleeping.”

 

   “Sorry,” Ron said as he sat back on the bed. “Continue describing my sister’s fluffy pink Animagus form.”

 

 Harry scowled at him. He stifled a snort.

 

   “Luna said that it might be a Cheshire cat, didn’t she?” Hermione asked him, tilting her head as she looked at him.

 

   “Yeah, but I thought that wasn’t a real cat,” Harry said.

 

   “No, it is,” Hermione said. “It’s a relative of the Nundu, but obviously much smaller. It’s native to rainforests, mostly the Amazon.”

 

   “Nundu?” Harry whispered to Ron.

 

   “Giant cat, always angry, lives in Africa,” Ron said. “Its fur is really resistant to spells, if you manage to get a cloak made from its skin, I think it’s better than dragon hide, but you can’t ever get one because it takes about a hundred wizards at once to kill one.”

 

   “It also has very toxic breath,” Hermione added, “which is how maizoologists figure that the Cheshire cat is related to it, because it has similar breath.”

 

   “Is it as bad as Ron’s breath in the morning?” Harry asked.

 

 Ron protested loudly, but Hermione glared at him and said: “I wouldn’t know.” Harry chuckled to himself.

 

   “Anyway,” Hermione said pointedly, “the Cheshire cat was discovered by Charles Dodgson, who later wrote about it in his books which were published under the name Lewis Carrol.”

 

   “It could float,” Harry said, “in our hallucination.”

 

   “It can in real life too,” Hermione said, “and turn invisible as it does in Alice in Wonderland. But it can’t talk like it did in the book.”

 

   “What did Ginny say when she saw it?” Ron asked.

 

   “She told it to buzz off, then to get off her head,” Harry said.

 

 They frowned. “It floated onto her head and sat there for a minute,” he explained.

 

   “What did it say to her?” Hermione asked.

 

   “Cruelty in my heart, delight in my soul, desire I’ll always have,” Ginny mumbled.

 

   “Wait, what was that last one?” Ron asked.

 

   “Desire,” Ginny snapped, lifting herself up to look at him. “For chocolate and silence and tea, I assume.”

 

 Hermione looked at Ginny with a raised eyebrow. “Buzz off to you too,” Ginny muttered, though she was smirking now. Ron groaned and clapped his hands over his face.

 

   “Don’t lean back too far,” Harry reminded him, then winced when Ron fell back off the bed again.

 

   “What was your form, Hermione?” Ginny asked, settling herself back with her head on Harry’s thigh again.

 

   “An eagle owl,” she said, smiling. “It told me that it was the curiosity in my heart, the rationality in my mind, and the instinct for the hunt in my soul.”

 

   “Figures,” Harry said. “Of course you’d get the wisest creature known to man.”

 

   “I thought that was the Sphinx,” Ron asked, getting back up.

 

   “Ron, how about you stop putting your foot in your mouth for a second here,” Harry suggested.

 

   “I think that was his Animagus,” Ginny said to Harry. “A man with his foot perpetually in his mouth.”

 

   “Hey!” Ron protested. “It was a dog, for your information!”

 

   “What kind of dog?” Hermione asked.

 

   “I think it was an Irish Setter,” Ron said.

 

   “Ooh, I love Setters,” Hermione said.

 

 Ron perked up. Ginny rolled her eyes.

 

   “What did it say, though?” Harry asked.

 

   “Something about playfulness, protectiveness, and nobility.”

 

   “I get playfulness and protectiveness, but nobility?” Ginny said.

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Ron said.

 

 Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. He made an ugly face at her. Ginny jabbed her wand at him, and he fell off the bed with a yelp again.

 

   “You little shit, Ginny,” Ron snapped.

 

   “Love you too, twinsie,” Ginny said.

 

   “Harry? Harry!”

 

  “Coming, Remus!” Harry shouted to answer the voice that he guessed was coming from the fireplace. He slipped off the bed, leaving his wife and best mate/brother-in-law to continue squabbling, and moved into lounge where Remus’s head was floating in the grate.

 

   “How are you feeling?” Remus asked. “Sirius said that something happened while you were under.”

 

   “We’re fine now,” Harry sighed. “We just… the mushrooms made us see a few things we didn’t want to.”

 

 Remus frowned. “What things?”

 

 Harry glanced back at the bedroom, now thinking of the dream they’d had after the hallucination. “It was nothing. Just weird.”

 

 Remus still frowned. “Well, if you’re sure…”

 

   “Yeah, we are,” Harry said quickly. “Ron and Hermione are over here now, we were talking about our Animagus forms.”

 

   “Well, how about the four of you come and have dinner with Sirius and I?” Remus suggested. “You can tell us about your forms.”

 

_Ginny?_

_They like the idea._

 

   “Sure,” Harry said. “Wait, do they know…” he gestured awkwardly towards Remus, “about, you know, you and Sirius?” he finished in a quiet voice.

 

 Remus’s face colored even in the fire. “Um, no, I don’t think so. I’m sure it wouldn’t matter, however. I know that Muggle opinion of… ahem, our situation, is much better than wizard opinion. Ron’s parents know and they don’t mind, so I assume they taught Ron to have the same values…”

 

   “Oh, okay. I just… never mind. Uh, we’ll be down in a bit,” Harry said. “Um, right. See you.”

 

   “See you in a bit then,” Remus said. His head vanished from the flames. Harry straightened up, then exhaled forcefully.

 

   “You really are awkward as hell,” Ginny said as she left their room.

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Harry told her. Ginny giggled and pecked his lips quickly.

 

   “No PDA!” Ron begged from the doorway.

 

 Harry slipped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers, quickly pushing his tongue into her mouth and holding the kiss for several seconds, until Ron stopped groaning.

 

   “You can’t tell me no PDA in my own room,” Harry said. “You came here, remember that.”

 

 Ron moaned pitifully. Hermione rolled her eyes and Ginny giggled again, hugging Harry’s chest tightly.


	43. Death

**Chapter Forty-Three**

**Death**

**Harry**

 

 The four of them left Gryffindor Tower a few minutes later, heading for the fourth floor and Remus and Sirius’s quarters. When they reached their destination, Harry knocked on the door and waited for one of the two professors to come and open it. He didn’t try the handle, though it was likely to be unlocked; he was not willing to risk walking in on them again.

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes at him as Sirius opened the door.

 

   “Remus is making tea,” Sirius told them as he waved them in, gesturing for them to take seats. “Are the two of you feeling better now?”

 

 Harry was beginning to feel a bit irritated with that question; it wasn’t as if they were made of glass. “We’re fine,” he answered his godfather with a nod. “It was just the mushrooms messing with our heads.”

 

 Sirius nodded, though Harry wasn’t quite sure if he believed him. Sirius dropped into an armchair, sprawling in it like a dog taking its place by the hearth, while the others took seats on the couch, and Remus levitated a tea tray over to where they were seated.

 

   “So, your forms,” Sirius said. “What did you lot see?”

   “An eagle owl,” Hermione said, pleased.

 

 Sirius gave a nod. “Makes sense, I guess. Did it speak to you?”

 

   “Yes, it said that it was my curiosity, my rationality, and instinct for the hunt,” Hermione told him with a small puff of pride.

 

   “Mine’s a dog, looked like an Irish Setter,” Ron said as she finished. “Playful, protective, and noble apparently.”

 

   “Apparently,” Ginny added with raised eyebrows. Ron elbowed her.

 

   “And what did you two see, Harry?” Remus asked them as he took his own seat.

 

   “Mine is a snake,” Harry answered. “Hermione reckons it’s a Star-Hooded Runespoor.”

 

 Sirius gave a shiver. “Those things freak me out,” he said. “You know that they can mimic the voices of children crying and screaming? It’s freaky sh–”

 

  “Of course, I’m sure that yours will be less frightening than the actual animal,” Remus interrupted Sirius, casually reaching over and hitting him with the back of his hand on the arm.

 

   “They are freaky!” Sirius said as he batted Remus’s hand away. “Have you ever been outside late at night, alone, and suddenly heard a kid crying out of nowhere? It’s scary!”

 

   “Perhaps you ought to watch fewer horror films,” Remus said as he shook his head. “I regret introducing them to you.”

 

 Sirius rolled his eyes at Remus. “Your form is definitely going to be intimidating, Harry,” he told him.

 

 Harry gave a nod, though all of what Sirius had said did not comfort him. Ginny patted his hand, leaning into him a bit.

 

  _You have to admit, crying children can be freaky._

 

 Harry narrowed his eyes at her, his lips turning down in a frown. She shrugged.

 

   “What was yours, Ginny?” Sirius asked.

 

   “A Cheshire cat,” she answered. “Because apparently those things are real.”

 

   “They are, they have foul breath,” Remus said.

 

 Ginny shrugged. “Not as bad as Ron’s in the morning, I imagine.”

   “Hey!” Ron protested.

 

   “Didn’t you say that you saw a third animal?” Sirius asked. “What was it?”

 

   “A normal fox,” Harry answered. “But, later, when we went back to our room and fell asleep, it was in our dreams.”

 

 Sirius nodded. “That happened to me too, after the hallucinations ended and I passed out, my form showed up in my dreams.”

 

   “What did your form say to you when you found it?” Hermione asked Sirius, her voice inquisitive.

 

   “First off, it bowled me over,” Sirius said, “and it shoved its nose in my face and stared at me without saying anything for like three minutes.”

 

  “As I recall your original telling of this, it was closer to three or four seconds,” Remus said.

 

  “Ignore him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Sirius said with a dismissive wave towards Remus. “After I finally asked it what the f– hell it was doing, it said that it was my clever mind, my vibrant personality, and the fierce love I had for my friends. The important part was that it called me clever.”

 

 Sirius tapped his nose knowingly. Remus rolled his eyes.

 

 A thought occurred to Harry; he glanced between the two of them, then spoke up. “How come Remus didn’t recognize your Animagus form when I brought you on the train with me two years ago?”

 

 Sirius’s smirk vanished instantly. He leaned back in his chair and frowned at Harry, then glanced at Remus, who was now looking deeply into his mug of tea. Sirius flicked his gaze back to Harry, then answered him in a much more somber tone. “My Animagus form changed while I was in Azkaban. I used to be a much larger dog, with thicker fur and a completely different face. What happened… things like that – they change you, in lots of ways. Remus couldn’t have recognized me.”

 

 Something in Sirius’s voice and the way Remus was sipping at his tea made Harry think that he shouldn’t have asked. He murmured “Oh,” and picked up his own mug of tea. He took a sip, feeling awkward.

 

_As always._

_Shut up, Ginny._

_Love you too._

 

 There was quiet in the room a moment while everyone slowly sipped at the cups of tea, until a timer in the kitchen went off and Remus set his mug down before he stood up.

 

   “That’ll be dinner,” Remus said, setting down his tea and moving to the kitchenette. Hermione got up as well, trailing behind Remus and offering her help.

 

 Sirius heaved a sigh and clapped his hands against the arms of his chair. “The Wasps’ll be playing the Harpies tonight,” he said as he rose as well. “You want to listen to the match?”

 

   “Sure,” Ginny said eagerly. “I love the Harpies.”

 

   “I figured that,” Sirius said, giving her a warm smile. “Bet you one day you’ll be playing for them too.”

 

 Ginny flushed. “I thought I was the one with the gift of prophecy?” she said in an attempt to brush off her blush.

 

 Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “Call it the science of deduction.” He switched on the radio and soft jazz came from the speakers. He fiddled with the dial for a second, and the sound of an announcer’s voice replaced the music, praising the Wasps’ as they scored a goal.

 

   “Come on, Gwenog!” Ginny called.

 

   “Nah, Gwenny, just let them score five million more times,” Sirius said jovially. “Remus, is the lasagna done?”

Harry saw Remus roll his eyes at Sirius’s words. “Yes, dear,” he answered, carrying a pan over to the kitchen table.

 

   “Excellent!” Sirius clapped his hands together. “Hermione, Ginny, take notes, this is what a good housewife does.”

 

 Hermione frowned, seeming confused as she carried a bowl of asparagus to the table, Remus rolled his eyes – again –, and Ron snorted. “Ginny can’t cook anything,” he said with a smirk and an accusatory finger pointed in Ginny’s direction. “Except tea and maybe boxed macaroni and cheese.”

 

   “That’s why she ought to be taking notes,” Sirius said.

 

   “This did come from a box,” Remus admitted as he set the pan on the table. “I didn’t make it from scratch.”

 

 Sirius clapped a hand to his heart. “What? You _lied_ to me, Remus?”

 Remus patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, dear,” he repeated mockingly, and once again, he rolled his eyes.

 

 They sat down to eat, and Harry had to say that even though it came from a box, the lasagna was quite delicious. Remus rolled his eyes a total of seven more times, and Ron was once again elbowed by Ginny a total of three times, however he elbowed her back twice. Both times she deserved it. Hermione snorted tea out her nose once, and Harry nearly choked on the lasagna twice, each time due to Sirius making them laugh. They finished around eight, then stayed to wash dishes; or rather, Harry, Hermione and Remus washed dishes while Ginny, Ron and Sirius gathered around the radio. As they finished cleaning up, the match finished with the Harpies catching the Snitch.

 

   “Oh, no!” Sirius shouted.

 

   “Yes!” Ginny whooped.

 

   “Why?” Ron moaned.

 

   “Alright, I’ll help clean up now,” Sirius said, walking over to the kitchenette. “Oh, you’re already done!” Remus gave him a scornful look, raising one eyebrow and pulling the corners of his mouth downward. “What?” Sirius asked incredulously.

 

   “You’d better watch yourself, Black,” Remus said, pressing a damp dish towel into Sirius’s arms.

 

 A pleased smile grew on Sirius’s face. “Or you’ll do what, Lupin?”

 

 Remus shook his head, beginning to smile himself though he tried to hide it, and started away. Sirius chuckled to himself, and set the towel down. Hermione glanced at Harry and raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged.

 

   “Curfew is soon,” Ron said, stretching his arms. “Hermione, do you have to patrol tonight?”

 

   “Yes,” answered Hermione. “Do you?”

 Ron dropped his arms and grinned. “Yup!”

 Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Glad to see our prefects are being responsible.”

 

 Harry walked over to her and threw his arm around her shoulders. “I already gave Ron that talk, responsibility and protection and all that, don’t worry.”

 

 Ron spluttered loudly and Hermione turned beet red. Ginny sniggered, then elbowed Harry in the ribs, though not nearly as hard as she elbowed Ron.

 

   “Alright, alright, that’s enough of that,” Remus said. “Off to bed with you lot, or off to patrol with you two,” he added to Ron and Hermione. “Before I tell McGonagall two of her prefects are misbehaving.”

 

   “Remus, you’re one to talk,” Sirius said with a grin from the kitchenette. Remus turned just as red as Hermione and turned away quickly, muttering something under his breath.

 

 They said their goodnights, and left for Gryffindor Tower. Ron and Hermione left them on the fifth floor for McGonagall’s office, and Harry and Ginny carried on to the tower on their own. Ginny dropped her head onto Harry’s shoulder as they walked, closing her eyes with a contented sigh.

 

_You know that you’re just the perfect height for me to lean on you now._

 

  _What was I before?_

_Slightly skewed._

_Thanks for that._

_You’re welcome, love._

 Harry stopped in the corridor, taking her in his arms and pressing a kiss to her lips. She smiled against his lips.

 

  _What?_  


_You know what,_ he thought, pulling back. _I love you._

Ginny beamed. “I love you too,” she giggled; her gaze drifted over his shoulder. “And there’s a couple of first years watching us.”

 

 Harry turned around, to see two boys in Ravenclaw robes gaping open mouthed at them. “What are you looking at?” he asked.

 

   “Nothing!” said the first hurriedly.

 

   “What he said!” squeaked the second.

 

   “Curfew for the first years was ten minutes ago,” Ginny said, checking her watch. “What are you doing outside Ravenclaw Tower?”

 

   “We got lost!” the second boy said. The first boy elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Ow!”

 

   “We’re just taking the scenic route,” the first boy told them. “We’ll be fine.”

   “No, we’re not, we’re lost!” the second boy moaned.

 

   “Ravenclaw tower is that way,” Harry said. “It’s the West tower.”

 

   “Walk towards the Transfiguration classroom, then turn right, then left, and take the stairs up,” Ginny told them. “If you reach the Trophy room, you’ve gone too far.”

 

   “The entrance to the Tower is a few corridors before that,” Harry added.

 

   “Thank you!” the second boy said, perking up. “Come on, Billy.” The second boy grabbed the first by the arm and tugged him away, down the corridor and out of their sight. Harry turned back to Ginny with a raised eyebrow.

 

 Ginny giggled again.

 

 Harry shook his head and draped his arm over her shoulder, resuming their walk back up to Gryffindor Tower. Fred and George were giving performances of their Puking Pastilles in the common room as they passed through it, and Ginny shook her head at them, shuddering a little at the sound of the repetitive retching. Up in their room, they prepared for bed and turned down their covers. Harry slid under the blankets first, then leaned back on the pillows while he waited for Ginny to finish brushing her teeth.

 

   “Ginny?” he said, his voice carrying through the bathroom door.

 

   “What?” she asked, her voice garbled by the toothpaste.

 

   “How many kids do you want to have?”

 

 Ginny opened the bathroom door and stared at him for a moment. Then she spat out her toothpaste, rinsed her mouth, and exited the bathroom, resuming her stare at him.

 

   “It’s a serious question!” he said, beginning to smile.

 

   “None right now,” she answered with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know, maybe two or three in the future.”

 

   “I think three or four,” Harry said.

 

 Ginny gave him a dark look as she got into bed. “You’re not the one having to carry them.”

 

   “Yeah, but I’ll be in your head so every symptom and mood swing you get I’ll get, like your PMS.”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes, then switched off her lamp. “Harry, you barely get my PMS anymore. I barely get my PMS anymore.”

 

   “But when you do, I do as well!”

 

   “I don’t think that the same applies to pregnancy.”

 

   “Do you think that while you’re giving birth, I’ll be able to feel it?”

 

 Ginny looked over at him, her face unamused. “Harry, go to sleep.”

 

   “It’s a legitimate question!”

 

   “I’m not thinking about this right now.”

 

 Harry huffed. “Thought you might care about the welfare of your husband, but whatever.”

 

   “Harry?”

 

   “What?”

   “Are you PMSing?”

 

   “No?”

 

   “Dammit, my period is coming up soon.”

 

   “The fact that you use me to predict your period concerns me somewhat.”

 

 Ginny waved her wand and Harry’s lamp went out. “Go to sleep, Harry.”

 

   “Love you too,” he said. Ginny rolled over and draped her arm across his chest, then pressed a kiss to his lips.

 

   “I love you, you big git,” she said. “Now, go to sleep.”

 

 Harry laughed softly as she settled herself on his shoulder.

 

 The next morning, Sunday, they spent most of their time sleeping; the rest of the day was spent in the library doing homework. Hermione found a few books on the Star-Hooded Runespoor and the Cheshire cat, confirming them as Harry and Ginny’s forms. Ron’s spell check quill kept correcting his grammar, frustrating him to the point of an outburst, after which Hermione pointed out that he had been using the incorrect words to begin with, and Madam Pince warned them to be quiet. After dinner they returned to the common room, where Fred and George hailed them from a corner of the room.

 

   “Harry, come look at this!” George said. “We’ve got thirty six Galleons, 22 Sickles, and 14 Knuts from the presales of the Puking Pastilles last night alone!”

 

   “I did not hear any of that,” Ron said quickly, turning around and walking into Hermione. “Hey! Hermione, come on, I think I need you to look over my Charms essay.”

 

   “Ronald, I –”

 

   “Or we can go snog in a corner or something until they’re done talking, I s’pose, but that Charms essay probably does need your approval, come on.”

 

 Hermione spluttered, bright pink, as Ron pulled her away, Harry rolled his eyes.

 

   “I’m going to pretend that I heard none of that,” Fred muttered to himself. “Charms essay. Hmph. We taught him better than that.”

 

   “Oh, Fred, thirty seven Galleons,” George told him as he picked a coin off the ground.

 

   “I don’t think that was ours,” Lee pointed out, but George shushed him.

 

   “Thirty seven Galleons,” George insisted.

 

   “Well done, you guys,” Harry said, beaming at them.

 

   “Yes, well done, I’m sure there’s going to be an epidemic of puking later,” Ginny sighed. “How long exactly have you been working on this? It’s barely a week into October!”

 

   “The Puking Pastilles we’ve been working on for at least a year now,” George said. “They were almost perfected when we came to Hogwarts.”

 

   “We decided to focus on them so we could start up presales and get our name out there before working on the rest of the Skiving Snackboxes,” Fred said.

 

   “That was my idea,” Lee piped up.

 

   “What would we do without you?” Fred sighed, throwing his arm over Lee’s shoulder. Lee rolled his eyes.

 

   “This is fantastic, you guys,” Harry said. “I’m glad that money’s being put to good use.”

 

   “Oh, definitely,” George grinned. “We’ve already setting up a mail-order service until the end of the year and we can set up premises in Diagon Alley.”

 

   “Have you already got someplace to set up shop?” Ginny asked them, her voice impressed.

 

   “Plans for one,” Fred said.

 

   “The landlord’s a friend of me dad,” Lee said, “his tenant’s lease ends in June, and they’re not planning on renewing it.”

   “As long as we can jump in with enough for a down payment by July, then the place is ours!” Fred told them.

 

   “Excellent,” Harry replied, genuinely pleased that they were having such luck.

 

   “Anyway, we wanted to offer you some of the Pastilles,” George said, raising a small box. “We had some left over from the demonstration last night.”

 

   “No, thanks,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “I’m pretty sure Hermione’d kill me if she found one of those on me.”

 

   “I’d protect you,” Ginny said, curling an arm around his.

 

   “Well, isn’t that sweet,” Lee said. “The little family all sticking together to guard against the big, bad Hermione.”

 

   “Oi!” Ron shouted from nearby. “I can put you lot in detention!”

 

   “You wouldn’t dare,” Fred said without concern.

 

 Ron shrugged but gave a gesture of _I’m watching you_ , then went back to distracting Hermione.

 

   “Anyway,” George said. “If you’re sure, Harry…?”

 

   “Yes, I’m sure,” Harry said with a nod. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

 

 George shrugged. “Anything for our benefactor.”

 

 They said goodnight to the twins and Lee, and to Ron and Hermione who were still going over Ron’s Charms essay, which, judging by the suddenly panicked look on Ron’s face, needed the checking by Hermione. They separated to take the stairs up to their room, giving a wave to the Head Girl, Hollins, as they approached their door.

 

   “Evening, Potter,” she said. “Potter.”

 

   “Evening,” Ginny answered. She was still a bit miffed by what Hollins had said to them back on the first night.

 

 Harry rolled his eyes at Ginny after Hollins had shut her door, then collapsed onto the sofa.

 

   “I hate writing essays,” he said with a sigh.

 

  “Me too,” Ginny sighed as she joined him. She turned, then draped her legs over the arm of the couch and rested her head on Harry’s lap. He set a hand on her hair and began to stroke it absent mindedly, combing it with his fingers. He felt more contented than tired, but as he closed his eyes he began to feel himself to drift off.

 

 Sometime later, Ginny patted his shoulder, sitting up. _We’ve got to get to bed,_ she thought. _Sleeping here will not be comfortable._

_No, I s’pose not._

 They brushed their teeth and Ginny her hair, then got into bed. Ginny left her hair down so Harry could keep running his fingers through it. She leaned on his chest and he stayed up to read for a while longer, having nearly finished with Lord of the Rings. He fell asleep not long after she did, having enough wakefulness to mark his place in the book and switch off the lamps.

 

 They sat on a rock by a waterfall and a clear blue pool. Around them was a thick forest, and the full moon above cast enough light in the clearing for it to resemble day. Ginny lay with her head in Harry’s lap once again, as he combed her hair with his hands. Harry stared into the pool, half watching the images and scenes playing out in it. The sound of the waterfall lulled his mind into a calm that was just as artificial as it was shallow.

 

   “Powerful indeed,” whispered a voice, a voice that echoed across the rocks and through the trees. The water cleared of its images, and still the voice echoed. Harry knew it was a voice familiar to them, but he could not remember to whom it belonged. As he looked up, he was awakened by the voice of Remus.

 

   “Come on, Harry, just because Tonks isn’t here doesn’t mean you get out of training!”

 

 Monday was long, and Tuesday even longer. Wednesday had Divination, Potions and History of Magic back to back. During their practice on Thursday, Harry managed to defeat Sirius in a mock duel, and they were taught a new and interesting hex in DADA the next day. The weekend was spent in training, Quidditch and otherwise, Saturday they spent with Remus and Sirius dueling again, on Sunday Angelina called in the Reserve team for a practice game. On Monday morning, Sirius told them that Tonks was still held up in America; their last raid had gone wrong and one of the American Aurors had died. Tuesday, however, Dumbledore had finally returned, though briefly, from counselling the ICW and MACUSA.

 

 They received a note at breakfast that morning, with the news that he was able to meet with them for a short time that evening and that the password had changed from Peppermint Toads to Snickers, which Harry assumed was an American candy.

 

   “Good evening,” Professor Dumbledore greeted them as they entered his office. “I assume you remember Mr. Vance?”

 

   “Of course,” Harry said, nodding to the man. He looked much better than the last time they had seen him, his hair was cut and his face shaved, he wore clean robes and appeared better fed. His hands were still badly marred, making Harry doubt that they would ever heal and wonder what had happened to him. Beside him sat a thin woman, her face hollow and her eyes staring unblinkingly at the wall opposite her.

 

   “This is his wife, Vanessa,” Dumbledore said. “You’ll remember I told you that we found her with Aurora and Philip Sinestra in Norway.”

 

 Harry noticed Mr. Vance’s hands clench at the mention of the Sinestra siblings. Harry’s own jaw had tightened at their name, so he was not surprised.

 

   “We remember,” Ginny said, stepping closer. Mrs. Vance’s head turned slightly, towards Ginny. It was then that Harry saw that her eyes were cloudy, and the surface of them visibly scarred. He held himself still, preventing his body from starting backwards in fright at the sight of her damaged eyes.

 

 _She’s blind,_ Ginny thought.

 

 _I noticed,_ Harry answered.

 

   “Mrs. Vance, as I told you then, is versed in knowledge of the occult and with death.”

 

   “I worked in the Department of Mysteries,” said Mrs. Vance, and Harry was surprised at the roughness of her voice. It sounded as if she had only just begun to use her voice again after being silent for a long time. “I am considered an expert in the area of necromancy.”

 

   “But –” Harry began, glancing at Dumbledore. “You said that necromancy – it is a black magic, isn’t it?”

 

 Mrs. Vance turned her head, and then her eyes moved in their sockets, her unseeing gaze moving to lock onto Harry’s eyes. How she knew where he was and where his eyes were escaped him; her milky and murky irises were disturbing alone in their damaged state, and their movement increased Harry’s discomfort. “There are many magics that are considered black,” Mrs. Vance answered before the Headmaster could speak, “however, their study is still needed.”

 

   “The Department of Mysteries is devoted to the study of the ancient and strange arts,” Dumbledore told them. “Death is a mystery that has fascinated Wizards and Muggles alike for eons.”

 

  “Your Headmaster has asked me to speak with you on the subject of death,” Mrs. Vance murmured. “And especially how to escape it.”

 

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

 

The house was cramped and dirty, but served its purpose. They would not be found here, not any time soon at least. This was very likely the last place that the fool Dumbledore and his minions would search for them. He stayed to care for his master, who was still getting used to his new body, while others waited for commands. He knew that he at least waited anxiously for the direction to go and do something, anything, to aid his master in his crusade. He grew uneasy remaining in the crumbling and rotten house, sitting still and doing nothing but carrying out simple daily tasks for his master. His master remained in the upper floors, meditating most of the time he assumed. There were times when he heard him casting spells, perhaps adjusting himself to his new body. His master was still weak, requiring extensive rest. He knew that his master was frustrated by his lack of power, but given that he had been less than a man for so long, he was impressed by his master’s skill even in his weak state. He tried his best to remain out of his way. He brought him meals and news, but remained on the ground floor whenever his presence was not required.

 

   “Come here,” his master called him one afternoon. He got up, and went.

 

   “My lord,” he said, falling to his knees.

 

   “Rise, and listen closely,” his master bade him. He was seated in the center of the room, his eyes shut and his face focused. “I require your service.”

 

   “At all times, my lord.”

 

   “I have a task for you.”

 

   “Yes, my lord.”

 

   “The world of the Muggles is complacent, and my rival grows too comfortable. The time to strike is near.”

 

   “What is it you wish me to do?”

 

   “Go to London. Find a place filled with Muggles on a daily basis. Someplace important. Someplace that will make them stumble and fear.”

 

   “Yes, my lord.”

 

   “Report it back to me. I shall then determine when best to attack.”

 

   “As you wish, my lord.”

 

   “Leave at dawn. Return in three days.”

 

He bowed low before his master, waiting to be dismissed.

 

   “You may go.”

 

   “Thank you, my lord.”

 

  He exited his master’s room, backing up until he had cleared the doorway. The door shut of its own accord, and he returned to the first floor.

 

 At dawn, he donned a cloak and slipped his wand into his sleeve. He paused in front of a mirror, checking his reflection. He combed his fingers through his sandy blonde hair, then stroked his unshaven chin. He removed his wand and gave it a flick, murmuring an enchantment. His reflection changed with the glamor charm, his beard becoming fuller and darker, his hair thinning and graying, lines appearing in his forehead and at the corner of his eyes. He stared into the mirror, and hated the reminder of his father in it.

 

 He left the crumbling house, moving through the small village until he reached the church. He entered the graveyard, where there would be no Muggles. He crossed it quickly, bearing no attention to the headstones, save one. He paused over them, then flicked his wand at them and caused the wreaths and flowers to turn to ash. He sneered down at the names on it, then gave a scoff.

 

   “ _The last enemy to be defeated is death_ ,” he murmured mockingly. “Indeed.”

 

 He Disapparated.


	44. An Orphan, A Monster

**Chapter Forty-Four**

**An Orphan** **≠** **A Monster**

 

 The sun rarely shone there. It was always raining, and if it wasn’t raining, the sky was a dull gray that was the color of numbing self-mutilation that cast an empty light upon the yellow grass.

 

 One boy sat on a swing, his feet dragging aimlessly on the ground as he watched a pair of rats fighting each other over a morsel of bread. It wasn’t even cheese. The sky was that same numb gray. The boy tilted his head to the side, and the two rats fell down dead.

 

The playground was always empty too. Children didn’t play there anymore. They were too scared. The boy didn’t know if they were afraid of the Nazis or him. He lifted his gaze up to the sky. He wondered if the sirens would sound again tonight. He wondered if the bombs would hit the orphanage. He wondered if anyone would die.

 

 Years went by. Not that many, but to a child, seven years felt like seventy. The boy grew up. The Nazis kept dropping bombs on London, and he kept wishing the rotten and dark building that was his prison would be destroyed, but the Germans failed him every time. He returned in the summer, he sat outside on that swing and killed rats and other small animals often with just his mind. He wanted to do more magic, but he’d been warned that the wizards would take away his wand if they caught him doing magic outside school. And he would be caught, he was promised. He’d been caught.

 

 The swing creaked as he sat on it. It was cold for June. The fools that ran the orphanage thought it was just the lack of sun, but he saw the Dementors haunting the streets of the city, feeding on the depression of the mothers' whose sons had stupidly let themselves get blown up or shot and the fear of the wives who just wanted their husbands to return home. The Dementors didn’t go near here. The cold reached the orphanage, but they didn’t dare touch the playground. He could tell they were wary of him.

 

 He liked it.

 

   “Tom! Come inside, now!”

 

 The boy didn’t lift himself from the swing. The woman shouted again, and the boy clenched his jaw. He was sick of this place. He cursed the Nazis for their failure to raze this place to the ground. They’d had so many opportunities over the years. It was a shame, really. Now he would have to do it himself, and he didn’t think the beasts of the orphanage and their watchers really deserved his particular attention. He was important now. He was making a difference in the world.

 

 The blood of these children would be the fuel, and their bones would be his foundation.

 

   “Tom! Come on!”

 

 He untangled his arms from the chains of the swing. A thin stick of wood nearly slipped from his sleeve, but he quickly shoved it further up. He hugged his body against a gust of wind, kicked aside the dead rats and started back towards the building.

 

 He needed the sirens to blare. Then everyone would rush down to the basement and lock themselves in a bomb shelter that only barely protected them from missiles that practically had their names written on them. No one would be able to escape. Except him, of course. It would be a glorious escape, he thought, as he crossed the dead grass back to the orphanage to where a fat old woman stood, waiting for him, her gnarled and veined arms crossed over her sagging bosom, a scowl upon her thin lips that were painted a garish pink. The boy walked past her, his arms dropping to his sides as he entered the building. He caught sight of a small group of children sitting on the floor, waiting for the woman to resume their lessons so they could learn to read and write and add together 2 and 2. He felt no pity for them. They’d scream like the pigs they were when the fire caught them, he thought.

 

 He returned to his room and sat down on his bed. He played with the ring on his finger, pulling it off and putting it back on and replayed the memory of the Muggles realizing they would be dying that evening, the fear in eyes he resented for their similarity to his. A dinner bell rang eventually. He didn’t move. He waited. Night fell, and he waited with baited breath. There hadn’t been one the entire summer.

 

 The wail of the air raid sirens woke him from his doze. A smile grew upon his face as the sounds of frightened children running for the bomb shelter filled the orphanage. A girl his age threw his door open and ran to his bed. She grabbed his arm, her fingers made his skin crawl as she tugged on him.

 

  “Riddle, get up, the sirens!” she cried.

 

 He threw her off him. In the chaos, no one noticed the green light from his wand, no one heard the dull thud of her body hitting the ground or the sound of her soul escaping her body. He pulled the small box from his pocket and held it up, whispering words that weren’t audible over the scream of the sirens and the children. The box glowed, and he tucked it into his pocket.

 

 There were two hundred and fifty children and adults running for the bomb shelter, give or take. By dawn, there would be one. He kicked the girl’s body out of sight, then followed the hordes down and out, the fat woman who’d called him in from the playground ushered him inside the shelter, and he found a seat as near the entrance as possible. The woman shut the door and didn’t notice him locking it with his wand. The children were quiet but for the sound of their heavy breathing. The bomb shelter smelled like unwashed bodies and vomit. The lights flickered. The sound of a bomb hitting the ground nearby made several children scream.

 

 Voldemort turned his wand on the old woman. She looked at it, her brows furrowing.

 

   “Riddle, what is that?” she asked.

 

   “ _Avada Kedavra_ ,” he said in a calm voice. The green light filled her eyes, turning brown into a color that made him think of acid or hellfire. The box was in his hands and it was glowing as her body crumpled. Someone shouted, then a small girl screamed as the dead body fell on her lap. Voldemort killed her next.

 

 It took perhaps ten minutes. The bodies smelled better dead than they had alive.

* * *

 

**Ginny**

 

   “Especially how to escape it.”

 

 Harry glanced at Ginny, then back to Mrs. Vance. Her blind eyes were still fixed on him, unseeing but still unsettling.

 

   “So, you know how Voldemort came back to life?” Ginny asked.

 

 Vanessa nodded. “Before we were captured and I was still an employee of the Ministry, I was able to study somewhat the book that Brom used to bring back the Dark Lord. This was one of the first fifty copies, so not every spell that was in the original was in it, including most of what he used. But there was a small piece, speaking of how the new body was formed.”

 

   “How?” Harry asked.

 

   “It was to begin as a simple golem. A living body must be provided, then carefully emptied of its soul.”

 

   “You mean they had to kill someone?”

 

   “Yes,” Vanessa rasped. “But in a very specific way. The body then has to be preserved, while it is enchanted. Normally, it would be charmed in a similar way to Inferi, however, to ready it to host a new soul a different and more complex ritual must take place. This was not specified in the copy I had access to, however.”

 

   “So, Voldemort’s current body used to be someone else’s?”

 

   “Technically,” Mr. Vance answered this time. “Except after all the enchanting and rituals that the body went through, it changed completely to suit the soul of the Dark Lord.”

 

   “I thought that he would have grown himself a new body,” Harry murmured. “I wouldn’t expect him to accept the body of another to be worthy.”

 

   “It is not yet known how to grow a full adult body,” Vanessa said. “The most that has been achieved is a homunculus.”

 

   “What’s that?” Ginny asked.

 

   “It is Latin, for ‘the little man’,” she answered. “When first the Sinestras found his spirit wandering the earth, they had me create a homunculus for their master.”

 

   “That was what he – lived in, I guess, before?” Harry said.

 

   “Yes,” Vanessa nodded. “A homunculus, however, is not meant to house a human soul for so long. It decayed, or so I was told.”

 

   “It did,” Ginny answered. “Heavily.”

 

 Vanessa inclined her head. “As I said, it was not meant to house such an energy. Especially not one so fractured and explosive as the Dark Lord’s.”

 

   “Which brings us to what I have gathered you all to discuss,” Dumbledore said. “Abraham told us at the end of June that Voldemort had created Horcruxes, and through my research, I have confirmed it.”

 

   “He has at least one more,” Mr. Vance said. “The snake he has with him at all times contains a piece of his soul.”

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “And another, as Harry has already destroyed one.”

 

 Harry looked up sharply, a frown growing on his face. Dumbledore reached into a drawer of his desk and withdrew a battered and ink-stained black book, rigid and bearing a hole in its center as if bored through with acid. Or a venomous fang.

 

   “The diary,” Ginny said.

 

 Harry caught her hand before it could go to clutch her left arm. He held it tightly, then squeezed it twice quickly.

 

   “Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “From what I have gathered, this was the first of his Horcruxes.”

 

   “It contained half of his soul, and the boy destroyed it?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

   “Half?” Ginny said, her voice rising in pitch.

 

   “I believe so,” Dumbledore answered with a nod. “Adding to the testament of your strength of will, Mrs. Potter, that you were able to resist its commands for so long.”

 

   “Two months is long?” Ginny asked, her shoulders deflating.

 

   “Nearly a year,” Dumbledore corrected. “You were only briefly possessed each time, and after each occasion, you regained full strength. It took nearly a year for half of his soul to weaken yours to the point that he could even attempt taking over your lifeforce completely.”

 

   “Forgive me, but are you saying that Ginny was possessed by the Dark Lord?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

 Ginny looked up at her, trying to remember when she had told the blind woman her name.

 

   “She was, during her second year here,” Dumbledore confessed. “Lucius Malfoy slipped her this diary, a Horcrux as we have established, and over the course of the school year she was possessed at separate intervals.”

 

 Mrs. Vance raised a hand, reaching out in her direction. Ginny felt tempted to step back, but Mr. Vance gave her a nod, and Ginny reached out her own hand, taking the blind woman’s. Mrs. Vance cupped Ginny’s hand in hers, then took her other hand and turned it, tracing her fingers over Ginny’s palm. Ginny glanced at Harry, then at Dumbledore, confused.

 

   “I can sense the trace of him still in her,” Mrs. Vance murmured, still clutching Ginny’s hand.

 

 Ginny grew even more concerned. “How can you tell?” she asked in a low voice.

 

   “It is faint,” continued Mrs. Vance, as if she hadn’t heard Ginny’s question, “a ghost at the very most.”

 

   “Memories,” Ginny said. “Of his years at school.”

 

   “You have them, in your own mind?”

 

   “Yes,” Ginny said. “I try to stay out of them.”

 

 Mrs. Vance released Ginny’s hand, and Ginny tried not to pull it back too quickly. She stepped closer to Harry, who put his arm around her waist. She caught the look of sorrow crossing Mrs. Vance’s face, and regret in Mr. Vance’s eyes.

 

   “The timeline set in the memories she has is what makes me think that the diary was his first Horcrux,” Dumbledore spoke.

 

   “Then it would be half of his soul,” Mrs. Vance murmured. “My dear girl…”

 

 She didn’t finish, and Ginny didn’t ask. Dumbledore cleared his throat, then put the destroyed diary away. “Continuing,” he said, snapping Mr. and Mrs. Vance’s attention away from them, “I have made guesses how many more Horcruxes he has. During the summer, I did my best to track down where he went after school, and have constructed a further timeline. I am able to say that he has at least two more Horcruxes, perhaps even three.”

 

   “But that would mean, to this day, he created at least four,” Mrs. Vance croaked. “And if he tore his soul in half each time…”

 

   “There is very little of the original man in Voldemort today,” Dumbledore said softly.

 

   “This is all well and good,” Harry said, catching their attention, “but what use is it to us how many he has if we don’t know what they are and where they are as well?”

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “You have a good point, my boy. I have looked into that as well, of course. I have good reason to think that his second Horcrux could be hidden near the home of his father. In Little Hangleton.”

 

 Ginny raised her eyebrows. “Hangleton?” she repeated. “You mean, where Harry –”

 

   “The graveyard,” Harry said. “The headstones had the name Riddle on them.”

 

   “Yes. Since June, I paid a visit to the graveyard in Little Hangleton. Tom Riddle Sr. and his parents are buried together, all of them having died on the same day. I asked around, and the nature of their death seems to be a mystery to the Muggles to this day.”

 

   “He killed them, did he?” Harry asked.

 

   “And created another Horcrux from it,” Dumbledore affirmed. “I believe that it will be hidden nearby.”

 

  _Voldemort killed his dad,_ Ginny’s thought to herself.

 

_He’s a monster. Of course, he did._

_I know, it’s just, I never thought of him as having a dad. Or a mum. I guess I just thought that he’d always been around, always evil. God, I wonder if he has baby pictures…_

A corner of Harry’s mouth twitched, then he glanced down at his feet. Ginny squeezed his hand briefly.

 

   “I also visited the orphanage where he grew up,” Dumbledore went on.

 

   “Orphanage?” Harry asked, stunned.

 

   “Yes. His mother died shortly after bearing him.”

 

 Ginny looked over at Harry, seeing him frown and his gaze fall to the ground.

 

   “His father was buried in a Muggle graveyard,” Harry said.

 

   “Yes.”

 

   “His mother died from giving birth.”

 

   “Yes.”

 

 Harry looked at Ginny, then at Dumbledore. “Was he… he wasn’t a Muggleborn, was he?”

 

   “Half-blood,” Dumbledore answered. “His mother was a witch, though I have yet to confirm her lineage.”

 

   “Half-blood,” Harry repeated in a whisper. “Half-blood.”

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore sighed. “When I spoke to the matron of the orphanage, she gave me his records. It seems that even as a child, Tom Riddle Jr. was very unsympathetic to other children. Even cruel on occasion.”

 

   “And you let him come to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, his voice rising.

 

Dumbledore looked taken aback. He stared at Harry a moment, then leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over each other. “He was a child, Harry. I had hoped that learning that there were others like him would aid him in growing. I had hopes for his life, his future, Harry.”

 

 Ginny felt the regret stemming in Harry’s mind for saying what he did. He dropped his gaze again and nodded vaguely. They had never stopped to consider the child Voldemort, nor the fact that Dumbledore had been his teacher as he was theirs. Part of Dumbledore must feel responsible for unleashing the horror of Tom Riddle upon the world, and even more so for failing him as a mentor. For the first time since realizing they were there, Ginny wished that she had looked through the memories of Voldemort’s childhood.

 

 Dumbledore gave a sigh and pressed his lips together. “I begin to doubt that he hid a Horcrux at his place of birth,” he said, “but there are several accounts of the orphans taking field trips in his records, and on three occasions these field trips were cut short by accidents that seemed to somehow, impossibly so, involve young Tom. I have not yet visited these three sites, but I think I might find some things there.”

 

   “Where did his mother live?” Ginny asked.

 

 Dumbledore turned his gaze on her. “I am not yet sure,” he answered. “I know her name, and her father’s name, but no a family or surname.”

 

   “Marvolo,” Ginny said. “It was his grandfather’s name.”

 

   “It was,” Dumbledore answered. “And his mother’s was Merope. Both are names found not uncommonly in the family trees of the Pureblood families, but uncommon among Muggles, which is where I was led to suspect that she was of wizarding descent.”

 

   “Did the records not have her surname?” Harry asked.

 

   “No,” Dumbledore answered. “At least, not a maiden name. She is registered as Merope Riddle on his birth certificate.”

 

 Ginny bit at her lip, thinking. Harry glanced at her and frowned. _What?_ she thought.

 

  _You want to search his memories,_ he said.

 

_It might help!_

_Yeah, and it might start flooding your brain with all his worst and best memories; I’m not sure which of those would be worse for you!_

_I would be careful._

_You weren’t even thinking of them when it happened to you two summers ago._

_That was two years ago. I’m stronger now._

_More stubborn is more like it._

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. _It’s true._

 

   “What are you thinking?” Dumbledore asked, his brows raised.

 

 Ginny turned away from her husband, looking to Dumbledore with apprehension. “I was wondering if I ought to look through Tom’s memories,” she said. “For anything that might help.”

 

 Dumbledore looked uncertain. “I am not sure that would be a good idea,” he said. “Those memories are still hostile towards you, are they not?”

 

 Ginny gave a shrug. “I can handle them, I’m sure. Besides, haven’t you been training us in Occlumency for this very thing?”

 

   “It is one thing to ward off your mind against another’s thoughts,” Dumbledore said. “It is another to go on the offensive towards something that is part of you.”

 

 Ginny gave him a look of indignation. “They are not part of me,” she said. “I don’t care if they’re in my head, they’re not mine. I can handle them.”

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “Still,” he said. “I would rather you not have to delve into them if we can avoid it.”

 

   “Perhaps you can take them from her,” Mr. Vance suggested. “And place them in your Pensieve.”

 

 Dumbledore looked to him. “I considered that,” he said. “However, I am concerned that attempting to take such a large portion of memory from her mind would not result well.”

 

   “Yes, yes, of course…” Mr. Vance looked to her, his thick eyebrows knit together.

 

   “You never tried,” Harry said.

 

 Dumbledore fixed Harry with an even stare. “Not on your wife, no.”

 

 Ginny could sense something in his tone that made Harry back down. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, one eyebrow raised. He looked slightly sheepish.

 

 Mr. Vance cleared his throat. “Talk is good and all, but I assume you did not summon us here to chat about the Dark Lord’s childhood.”

 

 Dumbledore shook his head. “I did not. My research into his life aside, I have found three possible locations of the two Horcruxes that I know he made after leaving school. As I said, I have not been able to search them myself, and unfortunately, I have even less time on my hands what with this debacle in America.”

 

  _Sounds to me like America needs to sort out its own problems,_ Harry grumbled. Ginny hushed him mentally.

 

   “I wished to ask you if you would search these locations.”

 

Mr. Vance glanced between his wife and Dumbledore. “Professor, my wife is still very weak. I cannot take her traipsing across the countryside looking for what will likely be heavily guarded objects.”

 

   “I do not ask you to bring her along,” Dumbledore said, raising a hand, “nor do I ask you to attempt to take the Horcrux once finding it. I simply wish you to check these places, and say whether or not you believe the Horcrux to be there. With your knowledge of him, and what you have learned from your wife, you would be one of the best searchers for a Horcrux.”

 

 Mr. Vance looked torn; he gripped his wife’s hand in his own heavily scarred and burned one, then slowly shook his head.

 

   “I cannot leave her,” he said. “I spent the better part of the last decade separated from Vanessa, and now she is unable to defend herself. I want no field work or front line position. I am willing to help you, Professor, but I must consider my wife’s safety above all else.”

 

 Dumbledore’s expression became guarded, however, he gave Mr. Vance a nod. “I accept this, Abraham,” he said with a soft sigh. “I do wish it were different, though I suspect that even if I offered to care for her myself, you would refuse.”

 

   “I would.”

 

 Dumbledore nodded once again, his glasses flashing in the light. “Very well. I shall work another solution.” Dumbledore turned back to Harry and Ginny and seemed to suddenly realize that they were still standing. He drew his wand and gave it a flick, conjuring an armchair for them. “Please, sit, do forgive me of my oversight in the lack of chairs.”

 

   “It’s fine,” Ginny said, though she didn’t quite mean it. She did hope that Dumbledore did not realize that, however. She and Harry sat, and Dumbledore gave a satisfied nod.

 

   “Now that I have shared with you all my guesswork,” Dumbledore began, “I come to the final point of our meeting, the reason we needed Mrs. Vance to join us.”

 

   “Ginny has the gift of prophecy,” Mrs. Vance said before Dumbledore could reveal it dramatically.

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore said, looking only the slightest bit put out.

 

   “You want me to train her,” Mrs. Vance continued.

 

   “Yes,” said the Headmaster, the slightest trace of discomfort in his voice that she knew already. “Yes, I do.”

 

   “I will,” Mrs. Vance answered. “But I shan’t teach her necromancic divination.”

 

   “Necro-what?” Harry said.

 

   “It is a branch off of necromancy,” Mrs. Vance answered. “It involves the calling of the spirits of the dead, opening a door into the land of the dead.”

 

 Harry fell back in the chair, and a thought flashed through his mind at the same time as it did Ginny’s; _“Imagine how it would make the boy feel if the first time he spoke to his parents was through their ghosts?”_

 

   “You mean, like a séance?” Harry said. “You can actually talk to – to people who have died?”

 

   “Yes,” Mrs. Vance rasped. “It was this that caused the Sinestras to capture us, in hopes that I could contact the spirit of the Dark Lord.”

 

   “Does it work?” Harry asked quickly.

 

 Mrs. Vance’s white eyes stared into his, and slowly, she nodded. Harry glanced at Ginny, his eyebrows raised and mind racing.

   “How does it work?” Harry asked her, his voice eager.

 

   “I will not teach this, I have said this,” Mrs. Vance told them, her voice growing sharp. “It is too dangerous for someone inexperienced to perform, and in my blindness, I would not be able to officiate properly.”

 

 Harry’s shoulders fell, and he dropped his gaze. Ginny squeezed his hand gently.

 

   “I would not ask you to teach Ginny this,” Professor Dumbledore said, “but I had intended to ask you to attempt it yourself.”

 Mrs. Vance swiveled her head towards Professor Dumbledore, a frown deepening on her face. “What for?”

 

   “To speak with Merope Riddle.”

 

 Mrs. Vance raised her eyebrows. “I have said, I am not capable of officiating the ritual.”

 

   “I believe that you are lying, Vanessa.”

 

 Professor Dumbledore’s voice was soft, but at the same time firm. He was standing by his request.

 

   “She said she wouldn’t do it,” Mr. Vance said.

 

   “But she can,” Dumbledore said. “This office is warded, Mrs. Vance, no falsehoods can be spoken without my knowing of them.”

 

  _Crap,_ Ginny thought.

 

 _We’ll deal with that later,_ Harry told her, _listen._

 

   “It is dangerous.”

 

   “I am aware. I researched it myself when your husband told me of what happened to you.”

 

   “No, you are not aware,” Mrs. Vance snapped. “You think you are, but you cannot know fully how dangerous it is. The land of the dead contains more than human souls, and something that is opened can be held that way from the other side.”

 

   “I am aware,” Dumbledore insisted. “I had your notes from the Ministry brought to the castle, so I have your own descriptions of the danger involved. I know what happened the first time you tried, and I also know what happened the second time.”

 

 Mrs. Vance shut her mouth with a snap of her jaw. She sat there silent for a moment, then let out a deep exhale. “You do not know what happened the third time.”

 

 Dumbledore inclined his head, then said aloud: “This is true. You could tell me.”

   “Not with these children present.”

 

 Ginny’s nostrils flared. “We’ve seen some things, Vance,” she said. “We’re not really children anymore.”

 

 Mrs. Vance turned to stare at her, her scarred eyes once again sending a shiver down Ginny’s spine. “There is earthly evil, and there is something darker beyond that. You are still children, and you will be until you have lost the hope of your youth.”

 

 Ginny faltered. The blind woman’s words took her by surprise, part disturbing part elegant eloquence. She fell back in the chair, choosing not to reply. Mrs. Vance continued to hold her unseeing gaze until Dumbledore cleared his throat.

 

   “I will not ask you to divulge what happened on your third attempt while the Potters are still here,” he said to her. “I will neither as you to decide now whether you are willing to make a fourth try or not.”

 

 Mrs. Vance nodded slowly. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

 

 Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, sighing softly as he did. “All Hallows’ Eve draws nigh,” he said, his gaze still locked on Mrs. Vance’s unseeing one. “From your notes, I gather that it would be the best time to perform the ritual. I will ask that you make your choice by then, and if you are willing, then we shall attempt the ritual on the 31st.”

 

 Mrs. Vance gave him a nod, then touched her husband’s arm. “I assume that you have no further need of us?”

 

   “That is correct,” Dumbledore answered. “You have found your rooms at the school already?”

 

   “We did,” Mr. Vance answered.

 

   “Very good. Mrs. Vance, if I could ask you to see Ginny on Saturday evenings for teaching?”

 

 She nodded again, and Mr. Vance rose from his seat, then helped his wife to stand. She curled her arm around his, and he led her from the office. As the door closed behind them, Professor Dumbledore turned to Ginny and Harry. He raised his eyebrows, then smiled softly.

 

   “I do hope that you have still been doing your mental exercises in my absence.”

 

 Ginny guessed that Harry’s cheeks were coloring. She knew her own ears were getting warm.

 

  _Did you do any?_

_A few._

_In the last week?_

_Nope._

 

 Dumbledore chuckled lightly as he shook his head. “I expected as much,” he sighed. “Your homework load was quite heavy this past week, was it not?”

 

   “Yeah,” Harry said. “Yes, there was a lot of reading work.”

 

 Dumbledore raised one eyebrow. Then he exhaled and leaned forward on his elbows, looking at them over his glasses.

 

   “Shall we practice a little while before I send you off to bed?”

 

   “Yes,” Ginny said. Dumbledore nodded and looked her in the eye. She quickly swathed her thoughts in barbed wire and waited. She felt a prodding, the smallest inclination of her teacher’s presence in her thoughts, and she quickly sent a few of Harry’s giant laser bearing robots after it. The touch faded, then appeared another place. The robots chased it down, but it slipped away from her. Ginny blinked, and Dumbledore leaned back.

 

   “Good try, Ginny,” he said. “I advise that you keep closer guard over your memories of the person with whom you are interacting in the future.”

 

   “Yes, Professor,” she said, leaning back.

 

   “Harry?” Dumbledore asked, looking to him. Harry gave a nod, and the two of them began to hold eye contact. Ginny listened to his thoughts, waiting. Then: Dumbledore smiled with satisfaction and gave Harry a clap. “Very good, my boy. I like your strategy of the trapped thought.”

 

 Ginny frowned, looking at Harry. “Of what?”

 

   “He intentionally allowed me access to one thought, then turned it on me and used it to push me from his mind.”

 

   “Oh,” Ginny said.

 

  _That wasn’t intentional._

_Oh._

 

 Ginny tried not to smile as Dumbledore checked his watch. “Well, it is getting late. I wish you a pleasant evening, and I hope that I will be able to meet with you again next week.”

 

   “Good night, professor,” Harry said, rising from the chair. Ginny stood, taking his hand again, and they started from the office. Near the door, Ginny paused, then looked over at Dumbledore.

 

   “What exactly is happening in America that’s causing so much trouble?” she asked.

 

Dumbledore sighed. “Their Congress was considering repealing a part of Rapport’s Law, finally making friendly relations with Muggles legal again. Unfortunately, there was a resurgence of Scourers’ this year and the bill was turned down. This caused a stir with the citizens, then one of the offices of the Congress was attacked by Scourers.”

 

   “What’s a Scourer?” Harry asked.

 

   “A group of Muggles,” Dumbledore answered, “who are aware of magic and are allied to exterminate it.”

 

 Ginny raised his eyebrows. “Wow,” she said.

 

 Dumbledore sighed. “Yes, wow indeed. However, with the help of our Ministry, the Americans have rounded up a great deal of them. Our Aurors will be returning by the end of the month, however.”

 

   “Good,” Harry said. “Sirius keeps trying to convince Remus that we don’t actually need to do all the things in the routine Tonks left for us.”

 

 Dumbledore smiled. “I thought he might. I told Remus so, but for some reason, our Professor Lupin can’t seem to think too badly of Professor Black.”

 

 Then Dumbledore gave them a wink. “Goodnight,” he said.

 

   “Goodnight, professor,” Harry said, a small amount perplexed.

 

  _Do you think he suspects?_

 

 Ginny shook her head as they left the office.

 

_I think he knew while they were still in school._


	45. Pesky Gnats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there is an extremely salty Malfoy in your future, I recommend you drink some water and apply anti-asshole spray just to head him off a bit. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas!

**Chapter Forty-Five**

**Pesky Gnats…**

**Harry**

 

 Harry collapsed onto their bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. Ginny looked at him, rolled her eyes, then turned away and entered the bathroom. A few minutes later, he heard her swearing. He rolled over, reached under the bed and pulled the box of period products out. He heaved himself off the bed, then crossed to the bathroom and cracked the door enough to stick the box in.

 

  _Thanks,_ Ginny thought as she took it from him.

 

 _Why don’t you keep those things in the bathroom?_ Harry asked her as he flopped back on the bed.

 

  _Because._

_Because why?_

_I’m used to keeping them by my bed._

_Seems like you need them in there more often._

_Possibly._

 

 Harry sighed, rolling his eyes mentally at her, then grabbed his book off the night table. He opened it to where he’d left off the night before and began reading.

 

   “Read louder!” Ginny called from the bathroom.

 

 Harry actually rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. He waited for her to brush her teeth, then let her take the book from him while he washed up for bed. Ginny kept reading, her thoughts carrying the words to him, as she went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea.

 

  _Earl gray?_

_Yes, please._

 

 Harry yawned as he left the bathroom. Ginny came back, holding the book in one hand and her wand in the other, levitating the two cups of tea. Her brow was knit and she was biting her lip as she tried to keep the cups level. It wasn’t working very well. Harry walked over to her and took the mugs out of the air.

 

   “Hey!” Ginny said. “I had them!”

 

   “You’re welcome,” Harry said, kissing her cheek. He took a sip of his tea, then smiled gratefully and took a seat on the bed. Ginny set her wand on the night table, then took her tea from Harry, and Harry took the book. He found their place on the page and continued to read while they drank their tea. Soon enough, he came to the final page and read the last line, then closed the book.

 

 Harry looked at Ginny. “Did you bring the next one?” she asked.

 

   “No. Did you?”

 

 Ginny shook her head at him. “You’re lucky that we get to go home this weekend,” she said. “Or I would have smacked you for not letting me get to find out what happens to Frodo until Christmas.”

 

   “It’s not my fault!”

 

   “Yes, dear,” Ginny said sardonically, then stuck her tongue out at him. Harry leaned in and kissed her. She smiled against his lips before pushing him off. “Git,” she said, grinning.

 

   “Love you too,” he said, then turned out the lamps.

 

 They met Ron and Hermione in the common room the next morning, Ron half asleep and Hermione leaning on his shoulder.

 

   “Bad night’s sleep?” Harry asked them as they started off for breakfast.

 

   “We had to patrol again last night,” Hermione said. “Two of the other prefects have come down with the flu, and McGonagall asked us to cover their shifts.”

 

   “The flu’s going around already?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Apparently,” Ron grumbled.

 

   “Mum had me get the vaccine before school started,” Hermione said, pausing halfway through her sentence to yawn, “but I imagine none of you did.”

 

   “Nope,” Harry answered.

 

   “What’s a vaccine?” Ron asked.

 

   “It’s a Muggle way to stop getting ill,” Hermione said.

 

   “It’s an injection,” Ginny said. “They stick a needle into your arm and pump it into you.”

 

 Ron shuddered. “I’ll take a Pepper-Up Potion, thanks.”

 

   “It’s not so bad,” Hermione said. “It’s worth it to not get ill to begin with.”

 

   “What do you want to bet that you’re going to catch it in about five minutes?” Harry asked Ginny.

 

 Ron laughed and Ginny hit him on the arm. “If I get it, then I’m immediately snogging you until you get it too, Potter!”

 

   “Feel free, Potter,” Harry said with a grin. “I’ll take any excuse to have a snog.”

 

 Ginny flushed while Ron mock gagged and Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry curled an arm around Ginny’s waist and pressed a kiss to her hair. She begrudgingly kissed his cheek in return.

 

   “You two are disgustingly affectionate sometimes,” Hermione sighed.

 

   “You’re just jealous that Ron’s not affectionate at all,” Harry teased.

 

   “I’m affectionate!” Ron protested. “Right, Hermione?”

 

 Hermione looked at him and raised an eyebrow. His shoulders deflated.

 

   “Or not,” he mumbled. Hermione shook her head at him, then took his hand and kissed his cheek. Ron turned pink.

 

 They found Neville sitting with Dean and Seamus at the Gryffindor table, not paying any attention to their conversation and watching the Ravenclaw table, for Luna, Harry supposed.

 

   “Morning,” he greeted them absently as they took seats around him.

 

   “Morning, you lot,” Seamus greeted them with a brief wave.

 

   “G’mornin’,” Dean mumbled around his mouthful of toast.

 

   “Have you seen the paper yet, Harry?” Seamus asked. “Looks like your Auror friend is having a blast over in America.”

 

 Harry shook his head as he served himself eggs. “Have you got one?”

 

   “Nah, I just saw Lavender’s, but she took it with her when she and Parvati left so I didn’t get a chance to read it.”

 

   “I’ll be getting one any minute now,” Hermione said to Harry.

 

   “What do you suppose Tonks did to get in the paper?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Is that her name?” Seamus asked. “She’s pretty.”

 

   “And about ten years older than us,” Harry told Seamus.

 

   “Your point?” Seamus asked with a grin. Dean rolled his eyes.

 

 Just then, owls began flying in and Harry looked up to scan the hoards of owls for Hermione’s newspaper. He did not expect Hedwig to soar down and land in front of him, neatly avoiding his orange juice.

 

   “Hey, girl,” Harry said, reaching out and stroking her feathers. “What have you got?”

 

 Hedwig hooted and stuck out her leg, a scroll tied to it. Harry undid the knots and set the scroll aside, then gave her a bit of bacon. She nipped at his finger affectionately, then gave another hoot and took off again. Harry broke the seal on the scroll and unfurled it.

 

   “It’s for you,” Harry said, handing it to Ginny. “From your mum.”

 

   “Oh, please don’t be more wedding crap,” Ginny muttered to herself as she took it from him.

 

   “Wouldn’t you be pleased about more wedding crap?” Seamus asked.

 

   “Not when it’s the difference between white and ivory napkins and what variant of orchids we ought to put in the centerpieces,” Ginny said.

 

   “I thought girls liked that stuff?”

 

 Ginny gave him a death stare over the top of the parchment. Seamus put his hands up in surrender and dropped his gaze. Harry shook his head at his wife, then leaned over to glance over the letter.

 

   “It is more wedding crap,” he said.

 

   “I don’t care about the bloody centerpieces!” Ginny sighed as she began to read.

 

   “Harry, the _Prophet_ ’s here.”

 

 Harry looked up at Hermione’s voice to see the tawny owl bearing the _Daily Prophet_ in its talons making its descent down to them. It landed on Ron’s head, then stuck its leg out. Ron scowled, but didn’t move until Hermione had put a few Knuts in the leather pouch the owl was proffering, then took the paper from it. The owl launched itself into the air again, making Ron wince. After it had gone, he reached up and rubbed at his scalp.

 

   “Bloody owl,” he muttered. Hermione unfolded the paper and looked over it.

 

   “It’s just an article on what’s happening with the Scourers,” Hermione said. “Tonks is in the cover photo, but she’s not mentioned specifically in the article. Oh, that’s sad.”

 

   “What?” Harry said.

 

   “One of the Americans was killed yesterday,” Hermione said. “He was shot in the back by a Scourer after he rescued a young witch from them.”

 

   “Shot?” Ron said. “With what hex?”

   “No, a gun,” Hermione answered. “It says that the Scourers were all armed with Muggle weaponry. I expect that they had several. They are Americans, after all.”

   “He was shot in the back?” Harry said. “I thought Americans were all about honor; shooting someone in the back isn’t very honorable.”

 

   “Most of them are, but I expect Scourers must not care about that,” Hermione said. “I read up on them yesterday, they’ve got quite a long and bloody history. They’re a bit like Death Eaters, but in the reverse.”

 

 Harry shook his head. “Dumbledore reckons that Tonks and the rest of our people should be returning to the UK before the end of the month. According to him, a great load of the Scourers have been rounded up by now and they should be okay home enough.”

 

   “I hope she’s alright,” Ginny said. “I don’t like the sound of those Scourers, even if most of them have been captured.”

 

   “Tonks is tough, she’ll be fine,” Ron said.

 

   “Yeah, it’s the Americans you have to worry about,” Harry said. “She’ll be driving them mad, I expect.”

 

   “Totally bonkers,” Ron agreed.

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes and returned to the letter.

 

 They left for lessons sometime later, Hermione and Ginny to Arithmency and Ron and Harry to Divination. After that was Transfiguration, followed by lunch and History of Magic, then lastly Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry made sure to leave with everyone else, making Ginny snigger at him.

 

  _It’s not like they were doing anything_ , she thought.

 

_They were! I don’t want to watch my uncles snogging!_

_What, is it gross?_

_Oh, shut up. You don’t want to watch your parents snog, and it’s the same thing!_

_I still think it’s funny._

 

 Harry gave her the finger, and she laughed harder.

 

 Thursday morning, Remus woke them for their dawn training later than usual. When Ginny asked him why they hadn’t gotten up at the normal time, he said that he and Sirius had decided they deserved a lie-in. For some reason, as he said it his neck flushed slightly. Ginny chose to not press further, and for all her teasing of Harry, she tried to keep that thought from him. After a short warm-up and exercising, they had a mock duel and Harry managed to disarm Remus, but not before Remus conjured ropes and bound his legs together. Ginny felt pleased that she had not only won her duel with Sirius, but had done the same thing to him as Remus did to Harry.

 

   “Well done, both of you,” Remus said.

 

   “Yes, yes, well done, Ginny,” Sirius said, trying to untie the ropes on his legs. “Will you give me back my wand now?”

 

   “Sure,” she said and handed it to Remus.

 

  “Hey!”

 

 Remus chuckled lightly. “I’ll get him, you help Harry out.”

 

   “Let’s make it a double date, why don’t we,” Sirius added irritatedly. “I’m losing feeling in my feet!”

 

 Ginny smirked to herself while she crossed to the spot where Harry was lying, his arm draped over his face.

 

_What are you doing?_

_Hiding,_ he answered.

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow. _From what?_

_The loss of my dignity._

 Ginny rolled her eyes and carefully used a Severing charm on the ropes. Harry lifted his arm and looked up at her.

 

  _Better?_

 Harry raised his arms in the air, holding them out to her. “Hold me, Gin,” he said. “I’m dying.”

 

   “You’re not dying,” she said.

 

   “I’m hungry,” he complained.

 

   “Hi, hungry,” Ginny laughed.

 

   “I’m serious!” Harry whined.

 

   “No, you’re hungry, he’s Sirius,” Ginny said as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Sirius, who was still trying to get Remus to give him his wand, unsuccessfully from what she could see.

 

 Harry groaned and covered his eyes again. “I am dying, from the pain of your puns.”

 

   “Well, stop it,” she said. “Come on, get up.”

 

 Harry sighed and lifted himself to his feet. Ginny pecked his cheek and patted his shoulder, before turning to face the adults.

 

   “Give me my wand!” Sirius shouted angrily in a high-pitched voice, as Remus had cast a jinx on him while he was on the ground; he was hopping up and down on his bound legs as he chased Remus across the room, who was laughing almost childishly. Harry raised an eyebrow at Ginny.

 

_Adults?_

_Okay, maybe not_

 

 They went up to breakfast a while later, after Sirius finally tackled Remus to the ground and took back his wand. Sirius, still huffy, promised them loads of homework in Defense the next day for the audacity Ginny had to humiliate him in such a way, however, Remus, still laughing, promised them he would prevent Sirius from doing as he threatened. Harry merely raised an eyebrow.

 

 Their first class that day was Potions, a double period with the Slytherins. Snape had the class brewing Strengthening Solutions, and was in a foul mood from the moment he walked in, bad enough to make him angry at his own students, so when Crabbe made his cauldron explode, he shouted at him and took ten points from Slytherin. It was the first time Ginny had ever seen him take points from his own house. However, the astonishment of the Gryffindors didn’t last long, as when Neville stirred his potion one time too many and it began spewing out acrid smoke, Snape took thirty from them.

 

   “Bloody wanker,” Ron said as they left for lunch. “How’re you supposed to know not to stir it so much when his handwriting is the size of an ant’s?”

 

   “It’s not your fault,” Hermione translated to Neville.

 

   “I wonder what’s got him so upset,” Harry mused.

 

   “Who even knows these days?” Ron sighed.

 

 After lunch, they had a free period, during which they worked in the library on a new essay for Snape, which would be due the next Tuesday. When their free period ended, they went out onto the grounds to meet Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures.

 

   “Afternoon, you lot,” Hagrid called in greeting as they came to a stop by his hut. “How’re you doing?”

 

   “Overworked,” Ron said.

 

   “Overloaded,” Harry added.

 

   “Overtired,” Ginny said, then yawned.

 

 Hermione rolled her eyes at them.

 

   “Well, we’re doing sommat special today,” Hagrid said with a wink. “Should wake you right up.”

 

   “Oh, joy,” drawled Malfoy’s voice. “Special. Hmph, more like terrifying.”

 

   “You know what will be special, though,” Harry said dryly with an even drier smile, “the sight of you running away screaming with your white blonde tail between your legs.”

 

 Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, his thin lips curving in a scowl. “At least I’ll have you to lead the way,” he said as he primly adjusted his tie.

 

   “Wow, full of excellent comebacks today, aren’t you,” Harry said. “Why don’t you take your foul attitude and run along to stench up someplace else?”

 

 Malfoy intensified his death stare, his silvery gray eyes glinting in the sunlight. “I rather think you’re the one with the foul attitude, Potter,” he quipped.

 

   “Maybe a little bit,” Harry sighed, then raised his hands and pinched his fingers together as he mocked Malfoy further, “you see, I’ve got this pesky little gnat following me everywhere and insulting me and my wife at whatever chance he can get.”

 

 Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips, his arms crossing over his chest and his eyebrow rising. “Did you just call me a gnat, Potter?”

 

   “Oh, wow, you guessed it, I never would’ve thought.”

 

   “You really are quite deplorable, aren’t you? It’s a wonder the Weaselette even wanted you.”

 

   “At least he’s not a gnat,” Ginny pointed out calmly.

 

 Malfoy opened his mouth angrily, however Hagrid strode up and clapped his hands together for their attention before he could. Malfoy shut his mouth with a snap and glowered at Harry, his pale eyes smoldering.

 

   “Alrigh’, alrigh’, everyone gather round,” Hagrid called. “Can everyone ‘ear me?”

 

   “Yes,” shouted Seamus from the back.

 

   “Good,” Hagrid said, “now, we’re gonna go on a bit of a walk this afternoon. The creature we’re studying today lives out in the forest, so everyone, stick together and stay on the path.”

 

   “We’re going into the forest?” Malfoy called.

 

   “Aye, we are,” Hagrid answered. “Now, you’d better listen close this time, you lot in the back, don’t want anyone getting hisself injured again because he wasn’t paying attention, do we?” Hagrid nodded pointedly at Malfoy as he spoke. Many of the Gryffindors and a few of the Slytherins laughed, even Goyle. Malfoy elbowed him hard in the ribs.

 

   “Right, come on then,” Hagrid said, then picked up the handles of a wheelbarrow. “Follow me.”

 

 The class trooped along behind Hagrid, the Slytherins moving up front and the Gryffindors in back. As they went, a few Gryffindors in the back started mock marching, including Ron, and Anna Williams, the Gryffindor reserve Keeper, began chanting: “Left, left, left right left!” Ginny giggled a little, while a girl walking beside Williams facepalmed and Hermione sighed heavily. Ron and a few others continued to mock march until Hagrid came to a stop in the midst of a clearing. He set down the wheelbarrow and lifted from it a cow carcass. Harry wrinkled his nose as Hagrid dropped it near the far edge of the trees.

 

   “What’s that for?” called a girl.

 

   “The creature we’re here to see will be attracted by the smell,” Hagrid explained. “Everyone gather round, and be patient. I’m going to give them a call just so they know it’s me.”

 

 Hagrid cleared his throat, then threw back his head and let out a guttural shout, high pitched and ragged.

 

 Nothing happened. For several minutes, they stood in silence, watching the trees for any sign of movement. Harry rose up on his toes to look over the heads of three Slytherin girls standing in front of him, when a flash of white near Hagrid caught his eye. He turned, and saw the same emaciated black creature that had been pulling the carriages up to the school on their first day back; the Thestral, Neville had called it. Its eyes gleamed white in the low light reaching through the branches of the trees, and as it stepped forward, Harry felt as if it might be looking at him.

 

 The Thestral approached the carcass of the cow, then surveyed the clearing and the students in it. Harry watched warily, as it bent its head low over the dead cow and opened its mouth to strip flesh from the dead animal. He grimaced.

 

   “Oh my god!” shouted someone. “Look at the cow!”

 

 There was a rustling as every student turned to face the Thestral as it ate, then gasps of fright and astonishment. Harry guessed that the sight of flesh ripping itself from bone and disappearing was rather discomforting.

 

   “What is it?” he heard Lavender calling. “What’s eating it?”

 

   “Show o’ hands,” Hagrid said, raising his own, “who can see ‘im?”

 

 Guessing that Hagrid meant the Thestral, Harry raised his hand. Ginny did as well, and nearby, Harry saw Neville lift his own. There was one other hand, belonging to a Slytherin boy, who was watching the Thestral with an expression of disgust.

 

   “Four,” Hagrid said. “Now, who of you wants to tell me what this is?”

 

 Harry lowered his hand quickly, as did Ginny. The other boy had dropped his hand before Hagrid even spoke, leaving Neville the last to begin lowering his hand, but not before Hagrid could see it.

 

   “Neville,” he said, pointing to him. “Go ahead.”

 

 Neville turned pink, then cleared his throat. “It– erm – it’s a Thestral, sir.”

 

   “Right you are,” Hagrid said with a nod. “Ten points for Gryffindor.”

 

   “Oh, but Thestrals are really unlucky!” cried Lavender Brown. “Professor Trelawney told us about them!”

 

 Harry frowned, trying to remember when Trelawney had mentioned Thestrals.

 

   “Tha’s just superstition,” Hagrid grunted with a shake of his head. “It’s because of the death thing people think that.”

 

   “Death thing?” Malfoy spluttered, backing away quickly. “What do you mean?”

 

   “Ah, I’m gettin’ ahead of meself,” Hagrid sighed. “So, we already know four of you can see Thestrals. Anyone want to have a guess as to why the rest of you can’t?”

 

 Hermione raised her hand, and Hagrid pointed to her, giving her a nod and a smile. “Because only people who have witnessed death can see them,” she answered.

 

   “Tha’s right, Hermione, another five points for Gryffindor.”

 

   “You mean that only the people who’ve seen something die can see them?” asked a Gryffindor boy, one of the ones who had been marching with Anna Williams. “I saw my dog die a few years back, how come I can’t see anything?”

 

   “It has to be the death of a human,” Hagrid answered.

 

 Harry tried not to think of the human he watched die. He tried to focus on the lesson, not on the glistening blood on the silver blade, the way it pooled in the dewy grass, the stunned expression in Diggory’s eyes, the hollow thud of the body falling; he shook his head, clenching his fists. He stared resolutely at the Thestral, listening to Hagrid tell them about their eating, mating, and sleeping habits. He could smell the carcass of the cow, and part of his mind wondered whether he was smelling bovine blood or human.

 

  “Got a keen sense o’ direction too,” he said as the lesson came to an end. “You tell ‘em where you want to go and they’ll get you there. Dumbledore often takes them for long trips when he don’t want to Apparate.”

 

 Off in the distance, they heard the bell ringing for the end of the day’s lessons, and Hagrid gave the Thestral a pat before picking up his now empty wheelbarrow.

 

   “Alright now, everyone follow me,” he told the class, making his way around the group and to the head of the trail.

 

   “Did you realize they pulled the carriages?” Ron asked Harry as they began to follow Hagrid from the forest.

 

   “Yes,” Harry said shortly.

 

   “Ron, did you not notice him speaking with Neville about it?” Hermione asked Ron with a look of incredulity. “Or how upset he and Ginny were when they saw it?”

 

   “I thought they were just being them,” Ron said. “Is that why you two kept snogging?”

 

   “Oh, shut it, Ron,” Ginny sighed.

 

   “Yeah, shut it, Weasley,” Malfoy snapped as he pushed past them. “No one wants the reek that is your breath stinking up this already filthy place.”

 

   “Shove off, Malfoy!” Ginny spat. “Before I hex your bits off and blame it on the pixies!”

 

   “Oh, I’m so frightened,” Malfoy said, but he was already leaving.

 

   “I’m going to strangle that little bastard one of these days,” Harry grumbled.

 

   “Can I help?” asked Ron.

 

   “I’ll hide the body,” Ginny growled.

 

   “I’ll transfigure it into something,” Hermione added. “Maybe a giant gnat.”

 

 Harry snorted.

 

 They exited the forest a short while later, and the students headed up to the castle, except for Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny, who followed Hagrid back to his hut.

 

   “Stay for a cuppa’ tea?” Hagrid asked them, glancing over his shoulder.

 

   “Of course,” Hermione said.

 

   “It’s been ages since you lot stopped by,” Hagrid commented, “been busy with homework?”

 

   “Among other things,” Harry answered with a sigh.

 

 Hagrid opened the door to his hut and they stepped inside. Fang barked and scrambled to get out of his basket, hobbling over to them.

 

   “He’s getting old, isn’t he,” Ron noticed as he bent to pet the old boarhound.

 

   “Yeah, I’ve been having to give him potions for his hips,” Hagrid sighed. “Madam Pomfrey says it’s arthritis.”

 

   “Poor old boy,” Ginny murmured; Fang licked her face, and she grimaced. “Ew, Fang,” she muttered.

 

   “No, keep licking her,” Ron said, patting Fang’s head. “Maybe it’ll keep Harry off her for a while.”

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Harry said, flushing red.

 

 Hagrid chuckled as he put the kettle on the fire. “Speaking of, how come I haven’t got a wedding invite yet?”

 

   “We haven’t sent them yet,” Harry answered.

 

   “When is it?”

 

   “Christmas,” Ginny said as she wiped her face on her sleeve. “Around then, at least.”

 

   “Having it at the Burrow?” Hagrid asked her.

 

   “Yeah,” Ginny said. “Mum’s organizing it.”

 

 Hagrid took a seat at the kitchen table and as he replied: “Betcha she’ll have it all lace and fancy folded napkins. That’s what she did for old Brom and Nessa’s wedding back in ‘81.”

 

   “Brom and Nessa?” Ron asked.

 

   “Yeah, best friends she was with Vanessa,” Hagrid said with a nod. “Always hanging around giggling whenever Brom or Arthur would walk by. The two of them had their hearts made up by third year.” Hagrid smiled reminiscently. “They used to come round for tea twice a week, you know.”

 

   “Wait, do you mean Abraham and Vanessa Vance?” Ginny asked.

 

 Hagrid nodded. “Yeah, yeah, they went missing in ‘82 though. I bet you wouldn’t remember them. Dumbledore told me the Order rescued them not too long ago, they were kidnapped by Death Eaters, see.”

 

   “We’ve met them,” Harry said.

 

   “Have you?” Hagrid said. “Molly introduce you?”

   “No, Dumbledore did,” Ginny said. “Why wouldn’t I remember them?”

 

   “You were very little when they disappeared,” Hagrid said. “Nessa was your godmum, don’t you know.”

 

 Ginny raised her eyebrows. Then the kettle whistled, and Hagrid got up to take it off the fire. Ginny looked at Ron, who shrugged.

 

   “I guess Molly wouldn’t have talked about them once they vanished,” Hagrid said as he poured water into mugs. “I remember at their wedding, you were the flower girl, Ginny.”

 

   “I was?” Ginny said.

 

   “Yeah, Bill held you and walked you down the aisle so you could toss petals from the apple trees out,” Hagrid said. “Cutest little thing, you were. And Ron, you had the rings.” Hagrid gave a chuckle. “Nearly swallowed one of ‘em once.”

 

   “I don’t remember that,” Ron said.

 

   “Course you wouldn’t,” Hagrid said, dropping tea bags into each mug. “You were both, what, eight months old? When’s your birthday again?”

   “May,” Ron answered, “the eleventh.”

 

   “It was January of ’81 they got married,” Hagrid mused softly, “so you were just eight months old, yeah.”

 

   “Mum never told me about that,” Ginny said.

 

 Hagrid gave a shrug. “Like I said, they went missing a year later.”

 

   “But they were rescued not too long ago,” Ginny continued, “why wouldn’t she have told me after that?”

 

   “I don’t know,” Hagrid told her. “You ought to ask your mum yourself.”

 

 He handed out the mugs, then sipped at his own for a moment. “Y’know, I think I’ve got a picture of you two with your mum and Nessa at her wedding. Just a mo’,” Hagrid set down his tea and stood up, going towards his massive bed and taking a photo book from the night-table. He flicked through it, then said: “Aha, here it is.” He moved back to the table and set the book before them. “Lookee here.”

 

 Ginny stepped up to the table and looked down at the picture he was pointing too; her mother, looking much younger, sat next to a woman in wedding robes, and they were holding two infants with identical wispy red curls and lilac robes. Ginny could only tell the difference between herself and Ron by the fact that she was wearing a bow on her head. The two babies were looking between each other and the camera, confused, and the women were waving.

 

   “Cutest babies at the weddin’,” Hagrid said proudly.

 

   “Aw, they are cute,” Hermione said with a broad grin.

 

   “Ginny, you’re wearing a bow!” Harry said with a laugh. She elbowed him, though not as hard as she would have Ron.

 

   “Is that at the Burrow?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Yeah, there’s been a few weddings in the orchard at the Burrow,” Hagrid said. “It’s a very pretty place, I guess.”

 

   “I wonder why Mum’s never mentioned this to us,” Ron murmured.

 

   “Dunno,” Hagrid sighed.

 

 Fang suddenly barked, and they looked up in time to hear a knock at the door.

 

   “I’m coming,” Hagrid answered, rising from his seat. He crossed to the door and opened it, revealing Sirius and Remus.

 

  “Hello, you lot,” Sirius said. “Hagrid, have you given them our tea?”

 

  “Of course I haven’t,” Hagrid chortled. “I was just telling them about the Vances' wedding in ’81.”

 

  “Abraham Vance’s?” Remus said.

 

  “Yeah, were you there? I don’t remember.”

 

   “I wasn’t, no,” Remus answered quickly. “Sirius was invited.”

 

   “I didn’t go, actually,” Sirius said. “But I heard it was lovely.”

 

   “It was, here, come and look at this picture of Ron and Ginny,” Hagrid said. “Ginny was the flower girl and Ron was the ring bearer.”

   “They are adorable,” Sirius said, looking over the picture.

 

   “Yeah, they were. Though, Molly had to wrestle Ginny into tha’ bow, as much as I remember,” Hagrid said. “Nearly had to use a sticking charm to keep it on her. You hear about the Vance’s? Dumbledore told me that the Order found ‘em last month.”

 

   “Yes, they’re staying at the castle,” Sirius answered.

 

   “Are they?” Hagrid asked. “They haven’t come to see me.”

 

   “Vanessa’s blind,” Harry told him. “I guess she doesn’t go much of anywhere.”

   “Blind?” Hagrid murmured. “Blimey, tha’s sad. She used to make these embroidery needlepoint things, y’know, I’ve got one of ‘em over there,” he pointed off towards his bed; Harry looked and saw a framed cloth bearing the image of the hut they sat in. “She had real talent. I always told her, she could set up shop in Diagon Alley and make a fortune off ‘em.”

 

   “Apparently Mrs. Vance is mine and Ron’s godmother,” Ginny said to Harry’s uncles.

 

   “Apparently?” Remus said. “Did you not know?”

 

   “No,” Ginny said. “Mum never told us about them.”

 

 Remus looked down at the photo, at Vanessa Vance’s smiling face and bright eyes. “I expect the topic depressed her,” he said softly. “They went missing around their first anniversary. It was assumed they’d been killed, given the state of their house.”

 

   “Hagrid told us,” Ginny said.

 

 Hagrid gave Sirius and Remus their tea as the topic of Abraham and Vanessa Vance dropped. Hagrid asked them about classes, how Defense was going, then as the hour ticked to an end and they finished their tea, they said their goodbyes and left. Remus and Sirius walked with them, continuing their conversation.

 

   “Ron, you’re Harry’s best man, aren’t you?” Sirius asked.

 

   “Yeah,” Ron answered. “Ginny said I have to come with them to Diagon Alley this weekend to get matching dress robes.” He wrinkled his nose.

 

 Sirius laughed. “Ah, yes, I remember that; Lily made us wear matching robes with James at their wedding too.”

 

   “They were nice robes,” Remus said. “I still have mine.”

 

   “I don’t know what happened to mine,” Sirius mused. “They were in the flat when… y’know, when I was put in Azkaban.”

 

   “I put them in my vault,” Remus said, his ears flushing as he said it. “My name was still on the lease, so I emptied it and put everything in Gringotts.”

 

   “You kept it all?” Sirius said, sounding surprised. “I would have thought you’d thrown it out or burned it.”

 

   “No,” Remus murmured, then seemed to want to say something more, but Hermione spoke before he could.

 

   “Were you two roommates?” she asked.

 

 Sirius gave a sudden cough that sounded suspiciously like it was covering a laugh, and Ginny saw him trying not to smile. Remus’s flush returned and he became engrossed in the horizon.

 

   “I guess you could say that,” Sirius told her.

 

 Hermione frowned, then raised an eyebrow at Harry. Harry just shrugged. Ron glanced at her, frowning himself. Ginny copied Harry’s shrug. Ron knit his eyebrows together and pursed his lips, looking away.

 

   “What was my parent’s wedding like?” Harry asked, changing the subject.

 

   “Lovely,” Remus said. “It was at your grandparent’s farm.”

 

   “I remember Lily was conflicted at the idea of being a June bride,” Sirius said. “I don’t remember what it was, there’s some Muggle superstition about it, I think. But June’s when your gram’s cherry trees blossomed, and she wanted the flower girl to throw petals from those trees in particular.”

 

   “Who was the flower girl?” Harry asked.

 

   “One of Lily’s friends had a little girl, about nine I think,” Sirius answered. “What was her name?”

 

   “Evelyn,” Remus answered.

 

   “No, Lily’s friend.”

 

   “Evelyn,” Remus repeated. “Her daughter’s name was Jane.”

 

   “Oh,” Sirius muttered.

 

   “What about my mother’s wedding robes?” Harry asked. “What happened to them?”

 

 Sirius gave a shrug. “I’m not sure. Your grandmother might have them.”

 

   “Why?” Ginny asked. “Do you want me to wear them?”

 

 Harry blushed. “I dunno, maybe,” he mumbled. “Or something from them. Y’know, something borrowed, something old.”

 

   “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” Hermione corrected.

 

   “That,” Harry said, jerking his head towards her.

 

   “In that case, I ought to ask Mum where her wedding robes are,” Ginny said with a sigh.

 

   “I thought you never wanted to wear Mum’s wedding robes,” Ron said.

 

   “I don’t, but the veil is very pretty.”

 

 They had reached the steps to the front doors, and began climbing them while Sirius spoke again: “Lily didn’t have an actual veil, she had this flower crown thing with ribbons.”

 

   “I’d like a real veil,” Ginny said.

 

   “Of course,” Sirius said, opening the doors for them to enter the castle. “James made it for her, though, that’s why she had it instead.”

 

   “My dad made her a flower crown?” Harry asked.

 

 Sirius gave a nod, smiling a little. “Yeah, we thought he was bonkers as well. It was at the beginning of seventh year, he got Marlene McKinnon to help him make it for her. James didn’t know she still had it when they got married, he teared up and everything when he saw her wearing it at their wedding.”

 

 Harry looked at Ginny. “Do you want me to make you a flower crown?”

 

 Ginny laughed. “No thank you, Harry.”

 

   “Are you sure?”

 

   “Yes, I’m sure.”

 

   “Are you sure you’re sure?”

 

   “Harry!”

 

 Harry laughed and hugged her from the side quickly. “If you’re sure you’re sure, Ginny.”

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Ginny muttered, elbowing him.

 

   “At least you’re abusing more than just me,” Ron sniffed. “Even if it is my best mate.”

 

   “You shut up, too, Ron,” Ginny said.

 

   “Ah, teenagers,” Sirius sighed. “I wish I could be so young and carefree again.”

 

   “I think you’re pretty carefree, Sirius,” Harry said.

 

   “Thank you,” Sirius sniffed.

 

 Remus rolled his eyes.

 

 They split at the fourth floor, Remus and Sirius heading for their quarters, the rest of them continuing to the seventh floor of Gryffindor tower. Hermione said that she wanted to do homework, but when they entered the common room, it was full and very noisy.

 

   “Come and do homework in our rooms, Hermione,” Harry offered.

 

   “Oh, thank you, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “Professor Vector gave us a very long assignment this week.

 

   “We can work on it together,” Ginny said. “Ron, you ought to come upstairs too.”

 

   “I was going to find Dean or Seamus and see if they wanted to play chess,” Ron said.

 

   “I expect that after the last time, they might not want too,” Ginny said. “Seeing as you beat the both of them in twenty minutes.”

 

   “It was a good game!” Ron said.

 

   “Come and do homework, mate,” Harry said, “we’ve got that dream diary from Trelawney, remember?”

 

   “Oh, yeah, that,” Ron muttered. “You want to make up a month’s worth of stuff now?”

 

   “Sure,” Harry said. “But I get first death.”

 

   “Well of course you do, you’re the Boy Who Lived, you’ve got a maniac trying to kill you every five minutes,” Ron snorted.

 

 Their dream diaries were done by the time Ginny and Hermione finished their Arithmency assignment, and they left for dinner. They caught up with Neville and Dean, though Seamus was conspicuously absent.

 

   “Where’s Seamus?” Ron asked Dean as they left the common room.

 

   “He’s sitting with Susan Bones,” Dean said with a sigh. “Wouldn’t shut up about it, to be honest.”

 

   “They’re going to Hogsmeade together this weekend,” Neville said, raising his eyebrows at them. “Or at least he thinks they are.”

 

   “I thought he fancied Lavender?” Harry said.

 

   “That was last week,” Dean said, drawing out the words for dramatic effect.

 

   “Boys,” Ginny sighed.

 

   “No kidding,” Dean muttered.

 

 Dinner was quiet, or at least they were. After they finished and the plates had cleared, they left for Gryffindor tower, and Seamus caught up with them, throwing his arms around Neville and Dean’s shoulders.

 

   “Did Susan say she’d go with you to Hogsmeade?” Neville asked.

 

   “Nope, but Hannah did!”

 

 Dean met Harry’s eye and rolled his eyes. Harry shrugged. He didn’t get it either.

 

 The next day they were to leave for the Burrow; they had just three classes, but two of them were double periods, Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, then after lunch Potions with the Slytherins. Malfoy tried to start a fight with Harry, but when Snape heard him talking despite the fact that he was talking, he took five points from him. Harry enjoyed the stunned look in his silver-gray eyes, until Snape approached his cauldron and took twenty points for having the wrong shade of lavender.

 

 As Potions ended, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all rushed up to Gryffindor tower to get rid of their books and pack for the weekend. Mrs. Weasley had said in her last letter that they ought to take the Floo from Harry and Ginny’s room directly to the Burrow after their classes had finished. Harry and Ron went up the boy’s stairs while Hermione and Ginny took the girl’s; Harry left Ron at his old dorm, then carried on to the private rooms at the top of the tower. He met Ginny at the door to their room, passing Head Girl Hollins and another seventh-year girl, probably a friend of Hollins’s, in the hallway.

 

   “Potter,” Hollins said stiffly as she always did. “Potter.”

 

   “Hollins,” Harry replied, glancing at her friend.

 

 Hollins opened her door, then looked back at them and realized that they were hesitating and looking at her friend. It seemed that she mistook their confusion at the girl’s presence as waiting for an introduction, and paused as well to say: “Oh, this is Meredith Greenley.”

 

   “Nice to meet you,” Ginny said, a little awkwardly.

 

   “You too,” said Greenley with a nod. Hollins glanced at them once more, then sighed tiredly and let Greenley into her room before entering herself, pulling the door shut behind her. Harry looked at Ginny, who shrugged.

 

 They entered their lounge and started towards their bedroom; they used their school bags to pack for the trip, dumping their books and papers on their bed to empty them out. Harry looked down into his bag and grimaced at the layer of quill tips, paper scraps, and other junk at the bottom of the bag. Ginny surveyed the carnage as well, then jabbed her wand into the bag, saying “ _Scourgify_ ” as she did. The junk swept itself up and vanished.

 

   “Thanks,” Harry said, crossing to the dressers to fill the bag with clothes.

 

   “What are wives for, Harry?” Ginny said sarcastically, making Harry snort.

 

 Some fifteen or twenty minutes later, they had finished packing and Ron and Hermione had joined them. The four of them were sitting in the lounge and waiting for Mrs. Weasley to Floo call and tell them they could come through, having small talk, when the fire flared green and Mrs. Weasley’s face appeared.

 

   “Hello, you all,” she said cheerfully. “Are you ready?”

 

   “Yes, mum,” Ginny said, slipping from the sofa. “Is it time to go?”

 

   “Yes, go ahead and come through,” Mrs. Weasley bade them. “We’ll be waiting.”

 

 Her head vanished from the fire as they rose from the couches. They gathered their bags, then one by one, took Floo Powder from the mantle and each stepped into the grate. Harry went after Ron, careful not to inhale ashes, and shouted: “The Burrow!”

 

 Harry thought that he was beginning to get used to Floo travel; as he toppled out of the Burrow’s fire, he landed on his knees rather than his face, then, brushing himself off, realized he didn’t even feel sick.

 

 Ginny stepped out rather gracefully compared to his tumble from the Floo, then looked down at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

 Harry paused in his brushing away of the soot. _What?_

 Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry stuck his tongue out at her.

 

   “I’m so glad to see that you two are behaving maturely,” Mrs. Weasley said dryly.

 

   “It’s an aspiration of mine,” Harry told her. Mrs. Weasley then rolled her own eyes, telling Harry just exactly where Ginny had learned it.

 

  _Shut it, Potter._

_You shut it, Potter._

_I said it first._

_Yeah, but I’m your husband! Aren’t I s’posed to be the head of our family?_

 

 Ginny looked at him, her eyebrow still raised, and held out her hand to him. He took it, and she pulled him up. Then she shoved him into one of the chairs. Harry laughed, and Mrs. Weasley frowned, slightly bemused.

 

   “I don’t get you two,” Ron said.

 

   “Neither do I,” Ginny sighed.

 

 Then, Hermione Floo’d in and stumbled right into Ron, who threw his arms around her to stop her falling. The two of them turned pink and Hermione quickly jumped away.

 

  _I don’t get them either,_ Harry thought, looking at Ginny. _Haven’t they been dating nearly two months now? Why are they so awkward still?_

 

 Ginny shrugged. _We’ve been married two months and you’re still as awkward as a twelve-year-old with a crush._

_I am not!_

 

 Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, then motioned them over to the kitchen. “Come on then, let’s get to talking.” Harry rose from the chair and followed her, Ginny trailing behind him. Ron and Hermione stayed in the sitting room, taking seats and looking at the floor awkwardly. Harry and Ginny took seats with Ginny’s mother at the table, which held just a thick book. Harry had expected more, until Mrs. Weasley opened it, and about a million different things spilled out; they spread across the table until it was completely covered in notes, samples, and color palates.

 

   “Now, I’ve selected at least three of everything you said you might like, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Let’s get started.”

 

 Ginny nodded, internally, however, she was banging her head against the table. Harry patted her knee sympathetically.

 

   “Here are the sample color schemes, Ginny…”

 

 Two hours later, they finally had the final choices. There would be no special theme, the color scheme would be ivories, golds, and reds, the invitations were designed, and the flowers were picked. Harry was honestly impressed with how much Mrs. Weasley, Molly she kept correcting him, had gathered in so little time. Ginny was just glad that her mother didn’t go into too much detail on the centerpieces and the napkins.

 

   “That’s that then,” Mrs. Weasley said finally, and she closed the book; all the notes and samples vanished into it as she did. “I’ve got supper ready already, I imagine you’re hungry.”

 

   “Yes,” Ginny sighed.

 

  _All that wedding crap exhaust you?_

_Completely._

   “Ron, Hermione, dinner!” Mrs. Weasley called, rising from the table. “Where did they get up to?”

 

   “Probably upstairs,” Harry said. Mrs. Weasley gave a frown.

 

   “Playing chess, I’d bet,” Ginny added quickly, “I’ll go and get them.” She jumped up from the table and started towards the stairs. Harry frowned too.

 

  _What?_

_Ron and Hermione are obvious enough as it is, if she goes upstairs and sees them snogging, which they likely are, they’ll get in so much trouble._

_Oh. Whoops._

_It’s fine, Harry, I didn’t expect you to know._

 Harry’s frown deepened slightly at her tone. _Are you making slights at my observation skills?_

_Little ones._

_Hmph._

 

   “Harry, would you mind helping me set the table?”

 

   “Yes, of course, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry answered quickly, getting up and crossing to the dishware cabinet to take a stack of plates from his mother-in-law.

 

   “Call me Molly, Harry, how many times must I tell you,” Mrs. Weasley scolded him lightly, a slight smile growing on her face.

 

  “Er, yes, right, Molly,” Harry said.

 

_I don’t think I’ll ever be able to call your mum Molly._

_Why not?_

_I dunno, it just doesn’t feel right._

_Well, call her ‘mum’ then, that’s what most son-in-law’s do, I think. She’d love to have you call her mum, probably._

 Harry considered this as he set plates on the table. Ginny’s mother was the closest thing he’d ever really had to a mother, and, in all honesty, he would feel much more comfortable calling her ‘mum’ instead of Molly.

 

 _Mum_ , he mused to himself.

 

  _Call her that, not me._

_Ginny!_

   “Dear, would you get out the silverware?” Mrs. Weasley asked him. “It’s in that drawer over there –”

 

   “I know where it is,” Harry said quickly.

 

 Mrs. Weasley smiled at him. “Of course you do,” she murmured to herself; Harry moved back to the china cabinet while she crossed to the icebox in the pantry.

 

 Harry took forks and knives from the cabinet, six as there were plates. He moved back to the table and began setting them on either side of the plates, forks on the left and knives on the right.

 

  _How would I ask her, though?_

_Just ask her; “hey, can I call you ‘mum’ instead of Molly?”_

_I can’t just ask her!_

_Why not?_  


 Harry wasn’t quite sure why not. He had the feeling it had to do with himself being awkward.

 

  _Oh, Harry…_

 

  _Don’t you pity me, Ginny, I’m happy with how awkward I am._

_Harry, Harry, Harry…_

_Shut up, Ginny._

He heard Ginny giggling as she reentered the kitchen, followed by Ron and Hermione. He waved to them, then moved back to the cabinet to get cups.

 

_Were they snogging?_

_Surprisingly, no._

 Harry gave a little snort, Ron caught his eye and frowned. Harry shrugged, shaking his head dismissively. Ron shrugged as well and turned away, wandering over to the kitchen counter where a basket of bread rolls was sitting.

 

  “No!” Mrs. Weasley scolded, slapping Ron’s hand away from the bread. “Wait until your father gets here!”

 

  “But Mum, I’m hungry!” Ron whined.

 

  “You’ll survive,” Mrs. Weasley said firmly, then patted his cheek and took the basket to the table. “Harry, thank you for being so helpful.”

 

   “Don’t mention it, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said out of habit. Mrs. Weasley turned to him, a smile of motherly exasperation on her face, and before she could admonish him to call her Molly, he said: “You’re welcome, Mum.”

 

 Mrs. Weasley’s smile turned into a grin, and she pulled Harry into a hug. “Thank you, dear,” she said softly, before releasing him.

 

   “What just happened?” he heard Ron ask in a loud whisper.

 

   “Later,” Harry heard Hermione reply in an only slightly quieter whisper.

 

   “When’s Dad going to be home, Mum?” Ginny asked.

 

 Mrs. Weasley glanced towards the sitting room and eccentric clock over the mantle, likely checking Mr. Weasley’s hand. “Any moment now, I assume,” she answered, and just as she did, Mr. Weasley’s hand shifted, moving from _Work_ to _Travelling_ , then _Home_. “Ah, yes, here he is.”

 

   “Molly, I’m home!”

 Mr. Weasley opened the kitchen door and stepped inside. “Ah, you lot are here already, excellent.”

 

   “We’ve gone over all the things necessary for their wedding already, dear,” Mrs. Weasley told him as he bent to kiss her cheek.

 

   “Did they pick the eggshell white napkins or the off-white ones?” Mr. Weasley asked, winking at Ginny, who rolled her eyes pointedly.

 

   “Ivory,” Mrs. Weasley answered, “and that’s enough of your cheek.”

 

   “Well, then give it a kiss,” Mr. Weasley told her; Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes, just the way Ginny had, and pecked her husband’s cheek.

 

   “Now, what’s for supper?”

 

 Dinner was lovely; despite being leftovers, there were plenty of Harry’s favorites, though Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, in general, was his favorite. After they had put away all the dishes, Mrs. Weasley produced a tub of ice cream from the icebox and served everyone a bowlful. Mr. Weasley switched on the radio, and they sat around it to eat their ice cream, listening to the _Nightly Soothsayer,_ a radio show owned by the _Prophet._

 

 When the ice cream was all finished, it was fairly late and they were getting tired. Mrs. Weasley sensed this, and sent them all off to bed, telling them that she would be getting them up early the next morning to get to Diagon Alley before the crowds. She put Hermione in Charlie’s old room, as she couldn’t stay in Ginny’s anymore. They readied for bed, all four of them sharing the one bathroom in the upper floors to do so. Harry brushed his teeth next to Ron while Hermione washed her face and Ginny combed her hair. It was a fairly large bathroom.

 

   “Goodnight,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione, clapping Ron on the shoulder.

 

   “Night, mate,” Ron said. “Night, Gin.”

 

   “Night,” Ginny said.

 

   “See you in the morning,” Hermione called to them as she disappeared into Charlie’s old room.

 

   “Yeah, Ron, wait until morning,” Harry added, laughing as Ron turned red.

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes for the millionth time that evening; Harry had lost count.

 

 They climbed into bed, in the magically expanded bedroom they’d financed that summer. Harry pulled the chain on the lamp, sending the room into darkness. Ginny snuggled close to him, and he began to comb his fingers through her hair. He was glad she had begun to leave it down more often.

 

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

 

 The orchard had changed very little since she had last been there. The trees looked no different, but felt older and sighed more heavily as the wind danced dreamily through their old and fatiguing branches. The daisies and the grasses and the wildflowers were all new, grown fresh in the past year on the corpses of their ancestors. The animals had carried onto a new generation, parents gave birth and died and their babies had more babies just to die themselves. But the light of the waning moon was the same, cool and calming as it touched her white head with its silver rays.

 

 The years and the generations felt like a blink to her.

 

 Fate walked through the overgrown grasses towards the house before her. Her gait was uneven and heavily leaning on her staff, upon which rested the crow Chaos with his head under his wing. Her servant was not with her that night, nor was the essence of Night. Her timeworn and aching body protested with every step she took, her heart thudded a loud drumbeat in her ear, and her lungs wheezed to keep oxygen flowing through her veins.

 

 Oh, had she known as a child that immortality did not mean eternal youth.

 

 She came within sight of the house and waved a bony and veined hand over the ground. The grasses at her feet grew, growing thicker and sturdier until it formed a seat beside her. Fate lowered herself into it, then gave her staff a shake. The crow toppled off it, letting out a strangled croak, then caught itself midair and glided to the ground. Chaos fixed her with one beady eye and let out a huff.

 

   “Rude,” he croaked.

 

 Fate leaned back in the chair, then pressed a finger to her lips and closed her eyes. She heard a flutter of wings, then the talons of the crow on her knee. Fate inhaled deeply and found the minds of the two children in the house. Sleeping. Dreaming. Ruling their own world.

 

 She listened. Their dreams were calm, surprisingly. Or rather, they were calm. Fate was impressed with how well they were taking these dreams of serious natures, especially their last dream. Chaos had slipped into the dream without her noticing again and slipped in elements of an implausible reality. Well, it would have been implausible had her niece not made that deal with Tom Riddle. Fate pushed away the thoughts of those strands of time, as they might slip from her mind to the children’s, and focused on what they saw.

 

 A cobblestone street. This was all she saw at first, the red brick street that was smoothed by the feet of millions of people walking across it millions of time. Then she heard the chatter, the talk of hundreds, static to fill up the background of the dream; then the air, crisp, but not quite cold, sunless and somehow heavy. Then, slowly, the people appeared, and she saw the children themselves.

 

 They were entering a shop, a large group with them. Fate saw many, seeing their lives in their eyes and their strands of time as numerous as the hairs on their heads in their souls. Family, she knew. Not by blood, many of them, no, but by love.

 

 Fate didn’t know the context of the dream. She was unsure of the beginning, as their minds were harder to read now, but she could guess; they were dreaming of a task in their near future, the shops and the wizards and witches identifying the place as Diagon Alley, and the chill in the air as autumn.

 

 Fate didn’t dare move closer to them, the many other times she had observed them serving as warning to keep her distance. But as she watched, she realized that something was off about the chilly air. It didn’t feel like October. No, it felt like a funeral.

 

 Fate was not startled when the dream turned dark. She looked up at the sky and saw the clouds taint green, then around at the people, screaming and running for cover, she smelled the smoke and saw tongues of flame crawling from shopfront to shopfront, and watched them calmly. The children had been ushered into a shop, and in their distraction, she moved closer. In their dream, they were guarded first by the boy’s aunt and grandmother, then the girl’s parents, then the best friends’ of the boy’s father. Fate watched as workers of evil in cloaks of black stormed Diagon Alley, as the curses and hexes were flung spitting from mouths whose owners meant the hatred behind the words. She watched two curses fly in the direction of the children, one hitting one of their guards unseen, unexpected, the other aimed at the boy’s aunt. The children were covering their ears, their eyes squeezed shut tight as the voice of the man Tom Riddle echoed over them. Then, their eyes opened, and the boy made eye contact with her. The battle froze; Sirius Black looking with horror and shock on Remus Lupin, the arthritic arms of Thea Evans yanking her child to safety, the wand of Luna Lovegood leveled with an angered heart on a woman’s eyes filled with an insanity larger than her own as she stood defensively before an unconscious friend. The boy blinked at her, and the girl glared.

 

  _Get out._

_Wake up!_

 

 The alley fragmented, fractured, and exploded; their eyes fixed onto hers, never wavering until she was thrown from their dream with the combined power of their fear and anger. Fate opened her eyes to stare at the house, one eyebrow raising slowly.

 

   “Told you they’d gotten tough,” Chaos said.

 

   “I know they had,” Fate sighed. “I am omniscient, Chaos.”

 

   “No, you’re not, you’re just very good at memorizing every possible outcome of everything that ever happened.”

 

 Fate looked at him. “Sometimes I wonder why I allow you to continue existing.”  
  
 The crow cocked his head at her, then let out a croak like a laugh. “As if you had the power to destroy me. There is a reason there are only six of us, and there is a reason that each of us has an opposite.”

 

 Fate narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head and sighed again. “I hate it when you make sense.”

 

   “It happens more often than you might think.”

 

   “Let us depart,” Fate murmured. “I have observed enough.”

 She rose from the chair of foliage and leaned on her staff to move away from the house. The crow flew up and away as the grass chair reduced to weeds; he went beyond her, back to the orchard. Fate moved much more slowly, following him. But he waited for her, sitting in a tree until she arrived. He said nothing as she stepped through the wildflowers, then flew to her staff and took his perch. Fate waved her hand, and the air shimmered for half of a blink, just long enough to think that the glitch in space and time was nothing more than a speck of dust in your peripheral vision.

 

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

 

 Mrs. Weasley woke them the next morning a little after seven, and as Harry yawned and stretched, he tried to think of what they had been dreaming. He gave himself a shake and dismissed it, thinking that it was probably nothing. Ginny was still bundled in the blankets, burrito like, so he leaned on an elbow and lifted the blankets to look at her.

 

   “You gotta get up,” he said.

 

   “Nuuu,” was all the answer that came.

 

   “Come on, Gin, we’re shopping for our wedding.”

 

   “Do it later.”

 

 Harry gave a sigh and shook his head slightly. He hated to go to drastic measures, but not really. He pushed his hands under the blankets, finding her shoulders. Then he started to tickle her.

 

   “No!” Ginny shrieked, lurching up and away from him; Harry caught her and continued to torture her. “Noo! St-stop it! Ha – Harry!”

 

   “You have to get up!” Harry threatened, finding her stomach and causing her to scream louder.

 

   “Stop it!” Ginny laughed, slapping at his hands. Harry pushed the hem of her shirt away to tickle her better. Ginny snatched at his hands, but missed, rather she sent his hands upward.

 

 Harry jerked his hands away from her quickly, his eyes going wide in shame and shock. Ginny gaped at him, still half-grinning, then fell back against the pillows, laughing in earnest now.

 

 The door opened then, and Ron stuck his head in. “Wha’s goin’ on in here?” he said in a mumble garbled by his tiredness.

 

 Ginny glanced back at Harry’s blanched face, and her laughter redoubled. Harry, still shell-shocked, couldn’t tear his eyes away from where his hands had momentarily been. Ginny hadn’t yet noticed that, he hoped.

 

   “What’d you do?” Ron asked Harry.

 

 Harry had no words.

 

   “Oh, I’m dying!” Ginny gasped for breath, wiping tears from her eyes. “I found a way to make Harry stop tickling me!”

 

   “What’d you do?” Ron now asked Ginny.

 

   “I accidentally made him touch my boob!”

 

 Ron kind of stared at her for a moment, then went very red and quickly shut the door. Ginny laughed even harder then.

 

   “I am so sorry,” Harry whispered.

 

 Ginny hiccuped, then shrugged, and calmed her laughing to a giggle. “It’s okay, y’know,” she told him. “I mean, we are married. You’re allowed to touch my boob.”

 

 Harry’s eyes grew, if possible, wider. Ginny snorted and shoved him backwards, then got up out of bed. Harry fell back and caught himself before he toppled off the bed, then shook himself again and stood up. Then he sat back down again. His eyes were still the size of dinner plates.

 

 They had breakfast before leaving, though Harry was very quiet the entire time. Both of Ginny’s parents were coming, and as they wrapped up breakfast, Harry’s grandmother and aunt arrived to join them.

 

   “Gram!” Harry cried, finally forgetting about the accidental and apparently permissible boob touch of earlier.

 

   “Hello, little one,” his grandmother said fondly, bending to drop a kiss onto the top of his head.

 

   “Hello, Harry,” Aunt Petunia said, less fondly, but still a bit warmly.

 

   “I didn’t know you two were coming,” Harry said to his aunt and grandmother.

 

   “Of course we are,” Aunt Petunia sniffed. “Why would we not?”

 

   “I have absolutely no clue,” Harry shrugged. Aunt Petunia sighed quietly and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

 

   “Well, we should get going,” Mrs. Weasley told them. “Petunia, Thea, you remember how to use the Floo?”

 

   “Yes, unfortunately,” Gram sighed. “Don’t send me first, please.”

 

 They took the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron in pairs, arriving shortly after eight. Gram immediately went to the bar to get a glass of water, and Harry almost as immediately noticed two suspicious heads bent over a table in a corner booth. He narrowed his eyes at them, then raised one eyebrow, and pursed his lips. He walked over to his gay uncles and prodded Remus in the shoulder.

 

   “You didn’t say you were coming,” Harry said.

 

   “Ah, well, yes, we were going to surprise you,” Remus said.

 

 Harry raised an eyebrow. Sirius shrugged defeatedly. “We stopped at Gringotts a while back and picked up some gold for you,” he said, holding out a small purse to him. Harry took it and was surprised at the weight. “Should be more than enough for all the things you have to buy today,” Sirius said with a smirk.

 

 Harry sighed, looking down at it, then he lifted his gaze again and looked between the two of them. They were dressed in Muggle clothes today, Remus in gray trousers and a dark shirt, for once without a tie – Harry caught sight of a thin gold chain tucked under his shirt, but paid it little attention –, Sirius in jeans and a tee shirt advertising a band Harry had never heard before, something called AC/DC, a leather jacket draped over his knee. It was just then that Harry realized that he had never seen Sirius in short sleeves before, and therefore had never seen the ink decorating his arms.

 

   “You have tattoos,” Harry said, a bit dumbly.

 

 Sirius raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know that?” he said.

 

 Remus, for some reason Harry chose not to think out and to also ignore, smirked.

 

   “I didn’t,” he said, looking at them. Just above Sirius’s right elbow, curling around his arm, were words, that Harry didn’t need to see all of them to know what they were, just by reading the first few; _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good… mischief managed._ On his left in the same placement were footprints, the same sort that were on the Marauder’s Map, and a strange symbol surrounded by characters in a language Harry did not recognize.

 

  “What’s that one?” Harry asked, pointing to the symbol. Sirius glanced down at it.

 

  “Celtic,” he answered. “For strength.”

 

  “He has more than just those,” Remus said.

 

  “Really?” Ginny said, having joined them. “Harry, you should get tattoos.”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes. “Really?”

 

   “Yeah, some romantic crap like my name or a heart with our initials.”

 

 Ginny smiled sweetly at him and Harry scowled, since he had been thinking that about two seconds after she suggested it.

 

 Sirius laughed and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “She’s got you whipped good, little Prongs.”

 

 Remus raised an eyebrow. “Sirius, you have ‘Property of Moony’ tattooed across your entire back.”

 

 Sirius flushed and Harry laughed.

 

  _You should get ‘Property of Ginny’._

_You should get ‘Property of Potter.’_

_That would include myself._

 Harry shrugged. _Goes along with your independent woman vibe._

 Ginny snorted.

 

   “Sirius has what tattooed on his back?” Ron asked, walking over, followed by Hermione.

 

   “‘Property of Moony’, apparently,” Harry answered.

 

   “I was drunk, okay,” Sirius sighed. “James convinced me.”

 

   “Of course,” Remus said, a twinkle in his eye.

 

   “Ginny thinks I should get tattoos,” Harry said to Ron.

 

 Ron gave a snort. “Yeah, like that’ll happen.”

 

   “He could get tattoos!” Ginny said.

 

   “Of the two of you, you’re the one more likely to get tattoos,” Ron said. “If Mum ever let you.”

 

 Ginny stuck her nose in the air. “I am legally an adult, Ronald, if I wanted to get a tattoo, I could.”

 

   “There’s a shop along here,” Sirius suggested.

 

   “No!” Remus said hastily.

 

   “What?” Sirius asked defensively.

 

   “You may not get a tattoo on a whim,” Remus told them as he wagged a scolding finger. “You must think about it for a good long time first, because it will be on your skin for the rest of your lives.”

 

   “I promise that I will make her think about it for a good long time first,” Harry said with a firm nod.

 

   “What are you lot doing over there?” Mrs. Weasley called. “Come on, we need to get started!”


	46. Something Old, Something New

**Chapter Forty-Six**

**Something Old, Something New**

**Harry**

Apparently, getting started with their shopping meant that they had to get done all the boring stuff first. They spent the next few hours picking out all the little things that are involved in a wedding, the very same things that had Ginny mentally banging her head on the table the night before. Once they had finished with the last of the minute wedding details, they gathered in the Leaky Cauldron again for lunch. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny discussed what sort of wedding robes she wanted with Gram and Aunt Petunia, while Ron and Harry talked with Remus and Mr. Weasley talked about their robes. Hermione's parents arrived to visit with their daughter, and amongst the three of them and Sirius, talk was about ancient runes of power. Sirius at one point tugged down the collar of his shirt to show them a few different runes from many cultures that all meant protection. Harry began to listen to their discussion then, at first wondering why Sirius had chosen to mark his skin permanently with such an odd subject; he wasn't the bookish type, and he'd never once spoke about ancient runes. Then Sirius answered Mr. Granger's question as to when he had gotten the tattoos; the summer of 1994 after he'd been officially declared innocent of working for You-Know-Who. Harry realized with a jolt that it wasn't any interest in ancient runes that had led his godfather to tattoo himself with protection runes. Harry watched Sirius describe a few he had on his back to the Grangers with a new found feeling of respect. He must have chosen them out of fear of the Dementors.

They finished their lunch sometime around one o'clock, leaving the Leaky Cauldron for the shopping center again. Mr. and Mrs. Granger left as well, saying goodbye to Hermione and waving to the others. The two conjoining families – Harry had decided long ago that Hermione counted as his sister – made their way to Madam Malkin's to begin their search for dress robes.

It was then that the group diverged; Mrs. Weasley insisted on keeping the tradition that Harry not be allowed to see Ginny's robes, nor Ginny see Harry's, though she did not seem to realize that they would see each other's robes no matter what through their bond. They decided not to mention that to her. They agreed to take a break in a few hours time, and meet at Florean Fortescue's for ice cream at three. Ginny, Hermione, and Ginny's mum carried on to another shop, specializing in bridal robes, while Harry went with Ron, Remus, Sirius, and Ron's father into Madam Malkin's.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," Madam Malkin greeted them as they entered her shop. "Through here, I have reserved a room for your appointment."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Sirius, having not been aware that they had an appointment. Sirius shrugged. Madam Malkin led them into a room off the main shop, which had several racks of dress robes that she suggested he look through. She asked him what the color scheme for the wedding was, and Remus answered her.

"Red and gold, ah, over here," Madam Malkin directed him toward a rack near the back. "I recommend golds, with soft reds and whites."

"Thank you," Harry told her, not knowing what else to say. Madam Malkin gave a nod, then started towards the door.

"A shop assistant will be here to help you with fittings in just a moment," she assured them, leaving the room.

Harry looked blankly at the rack of robes. He slipped into Ginny's mind for a moment and saw that she was doing the exact same thing.

_I think we shouldn't match too much._

_Mum says I can't have any red in my robes._

_So I should get reds?_

_Probably. You don't have red hair._

_Very true._

Harry lifted the sleeve of a black shirt, to realize that the sleeve was adorned with streaks of red sparkle nearer the shoulder. He dropped it quickly.

"Here's one," Ron said, taking out a garishly orange suit with black accents. Harry laughed at it.

"He's looking for wedding robes, not something to go ice dancing in," Sirius admonished Ron.

"What's wrong with orange?" Ron asked.

_Ron is not allowed to have orange robes._

"Ron, you're not allowed to have orange robes," Harry said.

Ron scowled. "I like orange," he muttered under his breath, putting away the ice dancer's suit.

Harry returned to the racks, looking through them for anything that caught his fancy. As the five of them searched, they would occasionally lift a set of robes from a rack and set it on a separate rack to be judged again later. The rack soon filled, and Harry felt tired with looking.

"Let's try to narrow the selections," Remus suggested to him, touching his shoulder and leading him to the rack of his possible choices. Harry glanced over it, then lifted off a white and gold set and put it back. Sirius looked disappointed.

"Hello, Mr. Potter?" a man with pale blonde hair stuck his head in the room. "Ah, you've already started! Excellent."

The man entered the room and bowed slightly to them. "My name is Finch, Greggory Finch, I've been asked to help you with your wedding robes."

Harry began to feel slightly uncomfortable with the amount of people that knew he was shopping for wedding robes at that point.

Mr. Weasley stepped forward, holding out his hand to Finch. "I'm Arthur Weasley," he introduced himself, "father of the bride. This is my son, Ron." Ron waved.

"Remus Lupin," Remus said as he shook Finch's hand.

"I'm Sirius Black, Harry's godfather," Sirius added as he took Finch's hand.

"It's very nice to meet you all," Finch told them, giving another slight bow. "I gather that you have picked through the room; these are your top choices?" he asked, touching the rack.

"Yes," Harry said. "I, well, all of us picked those out, I haven't looked at all of them yet."

"Well, let's see here," Finch said, turning his attention to the rack of robes. "Hmm… I would advise you avoid these brighter reds," he said, lifting a set of black and red robes from the rack. "They would clash with your eyes."

"They would?" Harry said. He had liked that one.

"Yes," Finch told him, "more subtle reds, those would work, especially if you paired them with gold. Malkin told me that your bride-to-be has picked gold and red for the color scheme?"

_Don't forget the all-important distinguishment from white, ivory._

"And ivories, apparently," Harry said.

"Ivory works," Finch said with a nod and a warm smile, "gold and ivory robes would go very well with your complexion and your hair color."

Harry tried not to frown, having never thought that he had to get robes to match his skin tone.

"This set, especially," Finch added, taking down a suit of dark gold from the rack, "would complement the color of your skin quite nicely. Paired with an ivory cloak, perhaps a gold broach fastening."

He set his hands on Harry's shoulders, steering him towards a mirror; Harry hoped the shop attendant didn't notice his flinch. Finch held the robes under his chin. "See how the ivory enhances the natural caramel of your skin?"

Harry tried not to look incredulous; caramel wasn't ever a word he had used to describe the color of his skin. Or any skin color really.

"If you wanted to add a few reds, now," Finch set the robes back on the rack, and started to search through them again, "here, this set has a nice burgundy." Finch held the robes up to Harry's chin, this set colored mostly a deep pinkish red with gold fastenings. "We can add an ivory and gold tie, perhaps with a paisley or similar pattern, a vest, or maybe even change the cloak."

"I like the dark red cloak," Harry said.

"Yes, it does go nicely with your hair," Finch said, smiling warmly at him then.

_How's it going?_

_Apparently, my skin has a natural caramel color._

_Had you never noticed?_

_Caramel is a candy, Gin._

_I think that fits. A light caramel._

_Gin…_

_What?_

_I think that's called tan._

_Oh, hush._

"What about Ron's robes?" Sirius said. "Don't they need to match?"

Finch raised an eyebrow. "Is Ron the best man?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, stepping forward. Finch pursed his lips, his brow tightening.

"I don't think he could wear burgundy robes," Finch concluded, "not with his hair color. Is it natural?"

"Of course it is," Ron scoffed. "Why would anyone chose to be this ginger?"

Finch gave him a wan smile, shaking his head. "My boy, don't be so dismissive of your hair color; ginger is quite attractive, really."

"I agree with him on that," Harry said, half smiling as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Finch.

"Is your bride a redhead as well?" Finch asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "But her hair is a darker red than his. Ron's is pretty orange."

"Potters always fall for redheads," Sirius told Finch.

"Do they?" Finch said, though he was looking down at the robes in his hand and tapping a finger against his chin, sounding a little absent. "Perhaps if we switched the color scheme…"

Finch hung the robes back up and started sifting through the others. "Young man, please stand over here a moment," he said to Ron. Ron moved closer obediently. Finch lifted a set of plain white robes from the rack, then took the burgundy tie from the set he'd held before Harry a moment before and held it before Ron. "Yes, I think this would work. Mr. Potter, would you be content with your best man's robes matching yours but inverted color wise?"

"That's fine," Harry said. Finch gave a nod, then set the robes back on the rack.

"So," Finch clapped his hands together, holding them at his chest as he turned to face Harry, "what are you thinking so far?"

"I like the burgundy," Harry said.

"Do you want to keep looking, or would you like to try on this set?" Finch asked, touching the set of burgundy robes.

"I like those," Harry answered, "with the gold and white tie; like you said."

"Alright, what about you?" Finch asked Ron. "What are you thinking?"

"Erm," Ron said, looking at the rack of robes. "I dunno. I like orange, but apparently, I can't wear it."

"Do you like the idea of the ivory and the gold to match Mr. Potter's?"

"Yeah, I guess," Ron said.

"You sound unsure," said Finch, looking at Ron with a kindly and patient smile.

"I just don't really care much about fashion," Ron said with a shrug. "I don't really know what looks good and what doesn't."

"That's fine," Finch said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I'll set out a few sets of robes that match this style, and you can pick which one you like best from there."

"Sounds good," Ron said. Finch gave a nod, then lifted the set of burgundy robes from the rack and made eye contact with Harry.

"I'll go get the right additions for this and some robes for Mr. Weasley," he said, "I'll be right back."

"Okay," Harry said. Finch left with the robes.

_How's it coming on your end?_

_I am not wearing a princess gown._

_What?_

_I don't want a princess gown._

_What even is that?_

_It's a tiny bodice with this huge poofy skirt._

Harry raised an eyebrow.  _Who suggested that?_

_The shop woman._

_I've got burgundy and gold robes._

_You're way ahead of us. At this rate, you'll be done long before I even start trying things on._

_Just tell them what you want._

_I don't know what I want, though._

Sensing Ginny's frustration, Harry tried to pass feelings of calm through their minds. He inhaled deeply, looking into her mind and telling her to take a breath. A moment later, he had caused some of her agitation to dissipate.

_You don't want a princess gown. Start where you don't want, and you'll end up where you know what you do._

_That's probably a good idea._

_See, I have those from time to time._

_Thank you, Harry._

_Anytime, love._

"Let's take a seat," Sirius suggested, as Finch hadn't returned yet. "It'll probably take some time for him to come back."

Remus waved his wand, and five chairs appeared. They took them, Harry leaning his back against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. He let his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

_If you fall asleep, I'll never be able to focus._

Harry opened his eyes again, giving a sigh.  _What are they showing you now?_

_Take a look._

Harry closed his eyes once more, trying to focus on what she was seeing. Ginny had always been better at looking through his eyes than he had at looking through hers. After a moment, a picture of a rack of dresses and robes appeared in his mind's eye. He saw Mrs. Weasley picking through them, holding up a set of robes with a feathery skirt.

_That looks horrifying._

_Yes, it does, doesn't it?_

_What about something less wizard? If all the normal wedding robes seem to repulse you._

_It's not so much that they repulse me, it's that I don't care that much._

Harry's sight through Ginny's vision faltered, then resumed; she was digging through another rack. She seemed to huff under her breath, hesitating as she looked down at a simple white gown, its skirt overlaid with lace and the hem a gold border.

_Oh, these are all sleeveless…_

_Is that bad?_

_I don't really like sleeveless._

_Why not?_

Ginny didn't answer him in thought, rather, her hand lifted to her left arm, holding her upper arm to her body.

 _I like the sleeveless dress,_  Harry thought.

_But…_

_It's beautiful, like you._

_Yeah, but…_

_Like your scar._

_I don't know, Harry._  Harry inhaled deeply, unsure of how to reassure her. The scar from her ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets had never faded, the slashing word weighed on her like the diary was still dragging her down. It was.

_It's part of you. It's part of what makes you strong. Which is beautiful._

_I don't want people to stare at it._

Harry relented. He didn't want to push her.  _If you don't want to, that's okay._

Ginny let the dress slip from her fingers, moving away from it. Her hand still clutched her arm. Harry wished that he was there, so he could take her hand and keep her from dwelling on it.

_I appreciate the thought, Harry. I'm okay with it. I am, I just don't like the idea of having it on display._

_It's not true._

_I know._

"Here we are," said a bubbly voice, breaking Harry's concentration. Finch had reentered the room, levitating a stack of robes with his wand. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, are you ready?"

 _Love you, Ginny_ , Harry thought quickly as he stood up.

_Love you too._

"You may step behind this to change," Finch said to them, gesturing to a room divider in a corner. "Mr. Potter, you first."

Harry took the first set of robes from him and stepped over to the room divider. He moved behind it, then, trying not to feel awkward, quickly stripped off his jeans and jumper. These robes were like the ones he'd worn to the Yule Ball, in that there was a shirt and some trousers as the base, then a sleeveless robe and a cloak. There was a vest and a tie as well, and these he put on after the trousers and shirt. He pulled on the robe, then fastened the gold buttons and draped the cloak over his shoulders.

He stepped out from the divider and held up his arms. Finch gestured him forward, so he did. The wizard flicked his wand, conjuring a stool with a quiet mutter. He produced some pins from his robes and gestured again. "Please, step up here, Mr. Potter."

Harry did, then Finch went to pinning.

Somewhere between fifteen and thirty minutes later – though Harry thought at one point that it had to have been to an hour –, Finch had pinned the last fold into place and stepped back.

"What do you think?" Finch asked.

Harry stared into the mirror, then rotated slightly on the stool to examine his reflection better. The ivory and gold of the shirt, tie, and vest did complement his skin color, combined with the deep red of the robe and cloak. He liked the gold fastenings, the pattern of the tie, the slight billowing of the sleeves of the shirt.

"It looks good," Harry said, turning his attention back to Finch.

"You like it?" Finch asked. "Think this might be the only one you need to try on?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a nod. "I like this."

"Wonderful," Finch said with a clap of his hands. "Then, you may change back into your Muggle clothing, just please be mindful of all the pins."

Harry stepped off the stool, trying not to feel too much like a human pincushion. He changed carefully, replacing his jeans and shirt. He gave the robes back to Finch, who waved his wand over them and boxed them.

"Mr. Weasley, your turn now."

Ron's robes took much longer to settle; the first set was too short, and in the second the hem of the trousers stopped far above his ankle. The third set fit better, the sleeves being slightly too long, but Finch had that pinned soon enough. The robes were the same as Harry's; vest, tie, robe and cloak over trousers and shirt, but as Finch had said, the colors were inverted. The tie and vest were a deep burgundy, the shirt was a soft gold and the cloak was something that was almost the color of butter. As Ron stood on the stool, Finch having finished the pinning, the rest of the group examined him.

"It's too bright," Sirius said.

"Yes, it is," Finch sighed. "I had hoped that the ivory would work, but the pale color of his skin drowns it out."

"Maybe he ought to try a set of burgundy robes," Remus suggested.

Finch lifted a cloak from his stack, then took the gold cloak from Ron's shoulders and replaced it with a red one. He tapped his chin, then snapped his fingers and took the cloak off, as well as the robe Ron was wearing.

"I'll be right back," Finch said, and he left the room with that. Ron stood there, looking almost blindingly pale in his ivory suit.

"I'm not very versed in fashion, but I don't think this is good looking," Ron said.

"No, not quite," Mr. Weasley agreed. Finch reappeared in the room, then handed a fourth set of robes to Ron.

"Try this one," he said. Ron took it, then raised an eyebrow. "Go on," Finch insisted, patting him on the shoulder. Ron shrugged, then disappeared behind the room divider. He reemerged a moment later and stepped back onto the stool.

These robes had a lot less ivory, but they weren't the deep burgundy that Harry's were. They were a much paler red, a color that was somehow not pink at the same time. The trousers and shirt matched the robe's pale color, and the cloak was a slightly darker shade. His vest and tie were gold with ivory accents, rather than the reverse as Harry's were.

"That's much better," Mr. Weasley said.

"It's pink?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not pink," Finch promised. "It's a light wine."

Ron caught Harry's eye and raised his eyebrow further. Harry gave a minute shrug.

_Is Ron wearing pink?_

_I think it's supposed to be light-ish red._

_I guess I kind of see that?_

"What do you think, Mr. Potter?" Finch asked.

"I think it's fine," Harry answered quickly.

"And you, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron gave his reflection a hard stare for a moment, then shrugged. "I like it."

"Excellent!" Finch said with a bright smile, flashing white teeth. "Now, if you will hold still while I pin you."

Finch completed Ron's fitting about twenty minutes later, just in time for Ron's stomach to grumble loudly. Finch thanked them for their business, promised Harry the utmost confidentiality, and advised Mr. Weasley to feed Ron. Mr. Weasley laughingly agreed. They took the two sets of dress robes to Madam Malkin at her front desk, where Harry got Sirius to distract Mr. Weasley while he paid for both sets of robes. If his father-in-law complained about it later or tried to insist on paying him back, Harry decided that the price of Ron's robes was much closer to one hundred galleons than two.

The clock read quarter past three when they left Madam Malkin's and headed for Fortescue's ice cream parlor in the middle of the alley. Harry told Ginny they were done, and to no surprise, she wasn't, but she, Hermione, and her mother joined them a few minutes later anyway. Ginny threw her arms around Harry dramatically and leaned into his shoulder, bemoaning the whole experience as she did. Harry rolled his eyes at her but still hugged her back. They ate their ice cream and discussed Harry's and Ron's robes, Mrs. Weasley and Gram were skeptical of Ron wearing red, but Sirius assured them that the robes didn't clash with his hair. Ron muttered to his ice cream as this was happening that he felt like changing his hair color.

After they finished their ice cream, the idea of Harry returning with Ginny to the dress shop was brought up again. As they had finished their shopping, the three men and two boys had nothing left to do.

"No, no, I insist we respect the tradition," Mrs. Weasley finally insisted. "You'll have to find something to occupy yourselves with."

"We could go back to the Leaky Cauldron," Mr. Weasley suggested.

"Tell you what," Sirius said, leaning forward in his chair, "you and Ron go with them, provide your fatherly and brotherly advice, Remus and I will take Harry to Gringotts."

"Why do we need to go to Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Because you have a minor amount of adulting to do," Sirius said to him. "We didn't have a chance to see your account manager during the summer, so it would be wise to do it now, especially in light of the marriage license."

Harry tried not to pout. It seemed there was more boredom in his future.

Ginny left with her parents, brother, Harry's aunt and grandmother, and Hermione a few minutes later, then Sirius and Remus made their way towards Gringotts. Harry walked a little behind them, watching his feet as he followed them. Remus and Sirius walked a little closer together than most people did, their hands almost touching as they hung at their sides. Harry wondered if they'd always walked like that, and he'd never noticed.

He was quiet while Sirius spoke with a goblin, requesting a meeting with the goblin that they'd met with last summer, Boldblood, Harry recalled. He thought that they wouldn't be able to, that surely Boldblood was busy, but the goblin appeared almost immediately, bowing his head to them respectfully.

"My office is through here," he said, gesturing for them to follow him.

"Thank you for meeting us on short notice, Boldblood," Sirius said to the goblin as they followed him away from the main hall. "I apologize for any inconvenience.

"It is no trouble," Boldblood told him. "I oversee few accounts so that I am able to meet with my clients more quickly than most."

"How many accounts do you manage?" Harry asked without thinking. Sirius shot him a look, warning paired with a request for patience.

"Five," Boldblood answered him with a smile that showed his pointed teeth. "Yours and Mr. Black's are the two of the largest accounts of Gringotts."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He knew that he was rich, but he didn't realize that he was that rich.

"In here," Boldblood said, pointing to an open doorway to their left. "Take seats, please."

"Thank you," Sirius said. There were a few chairs in the room, two before the desk, and two off to the side. Sirius moved one over, then pulled out the other chair for Remus. Harry took the third chair and tried not to fidget too much.

Boldblood seated himself in an impressive but short armchair behind his desk, folded his fingers together, and looked over them at the three of them. "How may I help you this afternoon?" he said, smiling, and again showing the points of his teeth.

"Harry would like to receive the annual review for his account," Sirius said.

"Of course," Boldblood inclined his head. "Shall I begin with August of last year or January of this year?"

"August, please," Sirius said.

Boldblood pushed back his chair and crossed to a filing cabinet behind him. He opened the fifth drawer and rifled through it a moment, then withdrew a thick sheaf of parchment. He crossed back to his chair and dropped the stack on his desk.

"The short version, I gather?" Boldblood asked.

"Yes," Harry said, then added quickly: "Please."

Boldblood once again inclined his head and sorted through the stack. He set aside some of it, perhaps half, then withdrew several thick pieces of individual parchment. He set these aside as well, then took the bottom one and unfolded it, revealing it to be much larger than the rest, explaining why it had lain so thickly.

"A summary of your account, from August 2nd, 1994 to September 1st of that same year," Boldblood began.

Going through the summaries and review for his account since the last August took much less time than Harry would have thought it ought to; Boldblood was very clear and concise as he explained everything, giving Harry enough broad details and a few more minor ones to fill in the rest of the information. Apparently, he had hundreds of stocks in several different companies, most prominently Sleekeazy's Cosmetics – though he was unsure why –, and despite the large amount of money he spent that fall on expanding his and Ginny's rooms, that was barely a dent in his wealth. As Boldblood finished the year's summary, Harry had a new appreciation for knowing how to multiply by percents.

"Thank you, Boldblood," Sirius said, bowing his head as the goblin reordered the stacks of parchment to replace in the filing cabinet.

"Thank you," Harry echoed, also bowing his head. Boldblood returned their slight bows, then moved back to the filing cabinet and put the papers away. He then returned to his desk, leaned back in his chair, and fixed his dark, beady eyes on Harry's.

"I assume you wish to hear about the inquiries you requested I perform last summer?" Boldblood asked.

Harry thought back to the summer before, trying to remember what he'd asked Boldblood to do. He racked his brains, but couldn't remember any of them. "Erm, yes, please."

Boldblood leaned over and opened a drawer of his desk, then withdrew a long, thin velvet box, which he opened to reveal a golden dagger. "Of the things you requested, I believe this will be most prevalent to your interest."

Harry leaned closer, now remember the dagger they'd found in the family vault. He couldn't remember what Boldblood had said about it, other than deep red and purple stones were garnets, and that the one on the pommel was uncut for some unknown reason.

"Yes, this was quite curious, wasn't it," Remus mused. "You said when he found it that it was imbibed with a magic you couldn't identify at the time?"

"Yes, that is correct," Boldblood said. "By now, however, I have identified it. This is a ceremonial dagger, one that would be carried by the head of the house. The rampant griffin carving on the handle is the same as the Potter crest, and the uncut garnet is a symbol of the natural wealth of your family. The blade itself is uncharmed, but the handle is enchanted so that any who tried to take the dagger as a sign of becoming the new head of house without a strong enough blood claim to the family would be severely injured. Records indicate that the injury would be localized to the hand that gripped the dagger."

"Wicked," Harry said.

Boldblood raised one wispy eyebrow. "Indeed."

"Didn't you say that it didn't seem to be Goblin made, though?" Remus asked.

Boldblood nodded, turning his gaze back to the dagger. "Yes, and I stand by that. The blade was made by a Goblin, but the handle and sheathe were created by Wizards, I believe in an attempt to mimic the talents of we Goblins. The enchantments placed upon it are of Wizard origin as well. Blood wards are a favorite among Wizards, you see." He closed the dagger's box and set it on the edge of the desk.

"This is very interesting," Sirius said, "do you have anything else for us?"

"Yes," Boldblood answered, reaching into the drawer again. "You requested I appraise all items in your vault, Mr. Potter, and to check that nothing unsavory was there."

"Was there?" Harry asked.

"Unfortunately," Boldblood nodded to him. He withdrew a velvet drawstring pouch, opened it, and pulled a thick book from it. "But there were relatively few. There was a knife that was imbued with a very strong poison, an enchanted chest that attacked anyone who opened it, several books of Dark Magic, and naturally, three possessed suits of armor. Those were exorcised immediately, and the chest was destroyed as it had no monetary value and there was nothing inside it. The books and the knife, I set aside in a charmed container in your vault, so that you may decide what to do with them at your leisure. But this book, I believe, you will find very interesting."

He set the book on the desk, then slid it towards Harry. Harry picked it up and turned it over in his hands. There was no title on the spine nor on the front or back cover. He opened it and found the first-page blank. And the second. He flicked through it and saw that the whole book was blank.

"It's empty," Harry said, looking up.

Boldblood held out his hand again; Harry held out the book, but the goblin shook his head. "Your hand, please."

Frowning, Harry held out his hand, setting the book on the desk again. The goblin took his hand, turned it over and held his index finger between two of his own. Then he took a short knife from a drawer and looked up at Harry.

"This will not hurt much," Boldblood said, then pricked Harry's finger. Harry held back a hiss, as Boldblood turned Harry's hand over and squeezed his now bleeding finger. A drop of blood landed on the old black leather, then a second. Boldblood offered him a handkerchief, and Harry wrapped it around his finger.

"Look now," Boldblood told him.

Harry turned his gaze back on the book and gasped. The blood had been absorbed into the leather, and as he watched, several runes formed themselves in deep red ink on the cover of the book, lining the edges.

"I recognize a few of those," Sirius said. "What is this?"

"Open it," Boldblood offered.

Harry picked the book up again, then opened it to the first page. His eyebrows shot up, then he turned it so that Sirius and Remus could see.

"Is that Latin?" Sirius asked.

"In Libro de Sanguine," read Harry.

"The Book of Blood?" Remus murmured.

"That would explain why it was blank until you pricked his finger," Sirius said to the goblin.

"What is this?" Harry asked Boldblood, his brow furrowing.

"It is one of the oldest tomes on blood magic that I have ever seen," the goblin replied. "It has been dated to be at least eight hundred years old, perhaps even one thousand. From what little I was able to glean from it without activating it, its main thought is of blood wards."

"Blood wards," Harry repeated. "Like on the dagger?"

"It is highly possible that the recipe for the dagger is in this book, yes."

"Have you not read through it?" Sirius asked.

Boldblood shook his head. "I was able to use an old Goblin magic to discover what it was and how to activate it, but without the blood of Mr. Potter here, it has stayed blank."

"It's enchanted to prevent people from reading it?" Harry asked.

"It is," Boldblood agreed. "In quite an ingenious way as well."

Harry looked back to the book, then began to turn the pages. The rest of the book proved to be in Latin as well. "I can't read Latin," Harry said, looking up at Remus.

"My skill is very rusty," Remus said. "I would need a refresher course before being able to read this."

"With this book," Boldblood said, catching their attention once again, "I found a small journal."

He took from the pouch a thin black book, the spine worn and the cover blank. He handed it to Harry.

Harry set the book on blood magic on the desk and opened the journal to the first page. There were notes on the theory of blood magic, in a thin, slanted cursive. "It's just notes," Harry said.

"Oh, my god," Remus whispered.

"What?" Harry asked, looking at him.

Remus took the journal from him, then flipped to the back. He showed it to Sirius, whose eyebrows shot up.

"What is it?" Harry asked again, bewildered.

"This is Lily's," Remus said. "This is her journal."

Harry's mouth fell open. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ginny dropped a wedding gown.

"My mother's?" Harry muttered.

"It's her journal," Sirius said. "What was it doing in the family vault?"

"Was it in her and James's personal vault?" Remus asked. "Was it taken from their house?"

"It was not," Boldblood answered. "Anything of value was taken from their house in November of 1981 and brought here, but this was not among those items."

"It was already in the family vault?" Sirius said. "Why would Lily leave her journal in the family vault?"

"I could not tell you," Boldblood answered.

Harry slipped the journal from Remus's hands and stared down at it. It had fallen open to a random page, the slanted script seeming to continue on from the previous page.

_I swear, that child never sleeps. It's half past two in the morning, and Harry is still bouncing about in his crib, wide awake and happy. I tried to sing him to sleep, but that only seems to make him more wakeful. I wonder if I could get a sleeping draft for babies…_

_I fed him around twelve, but maybe he's still hungry. Healer Tierney suggested I start breastfeeding him less, since he's almost a year old, but I can't help but default to that. He doesn't like baby food anyway; you can't blame him for that. I got him to eat some applesauce earlier, but he seems to like milk the best. I don't honestly mind. I like how peaceful he looks when he's feeding. It's the only time he shuts up, to be honest –_

"…maybe she left it there one day by accident?"

Harry jerked his gaze away from the journal, distracted by Sirius talking.

"I don't see why she would take it with her to the family vault to begin with," Remus said. "What would she need her journal for in the family vault?"

"Maybe it has to do with the book," Harry said, flicking back to the beginning of the journal. "I mean, the first entry is on blood magic."

Remus looked down at it, then sighed. "Maybe," he murmured. "Lily was studying to be a Curse Breaker when she and James went into hiding."

"My mother was a Curse Breaker?" Harry asked, a bit surprised.

"In training," Sirius said. "It takes years to become one officially."

_Bill was in training for six years._

_I never thought of my mother as a Curse Breaker…_

"But why was she so interested in blood wards?" Remus said.

Harry looked down at the journal, his eyes going out of focus on a paragraph near the end of the page. What would his mother be so interested in blood wards for? According to what Boldblood had said, the book she'd been studying was dark; or maybe it wasn't, and he had just brought it up because of the dagger. He tried to think back, of anything he'd ever heard about blood magic.

_"Blood of the enemy…"_

"Didn't Dumbledore say that when my mother died for me, she somehow enacted an old magic to protect me?" Harry said. "And that was the reason I lived with my aunt and grandmother?"

"Yes," Remus said. "But I always thought that it was her sacrifice that did it."

Harry lifted the journal. "What if it wasn't?"

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"Well, this book, it's got all sorts of blood magics in it," Harry said. "What if she used it to cast some sort of charm or ward over me? To protect me?"

"Lily," Remus murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. "You genius."

"I could ask to have the book translated," Boldblood told them. "If I could get a large enough sample of your blood, Mr. Potter. I am unsure how long two drops will last."

"I can translate it," Remus said. "I've been meaning to get back into studying Latin anyway."

"Thanks, Remus," Harry said.

Boldblood inclined his head, then handed the small velvet pouch to Remus, who put the book and the journal inside it. "You may take the dagger with you as well if you wish, but I advise you allow me to return it to your vault."

"That's fine," Harry said. Boldblood put the dagger away. The goblin folded his fingers together once again, and, leaning back in his chair, looked at Harry with a waiting expression.

"What else may I do for you, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"Erm," Harry said. He glanced at Sirius, who tapped the ring finger of his left hand. "Oh, er, I got a marriage license this year. Or, rather, I found out that I had a marriage license this year."

"Yes, you are bonded to one Ginevra Weasley," Boldblood said, raising his eyebrows. "Since November first of 1981."

"Pardon?" Harry said.

"Our records show that you were bonded to Ginevra Weasley on the morning of November first, 1981," Boldblood repeated. "Her name was added to your account then."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry, but the Ministry – we were recorded as married in July of 1991."

Boldblood shrugged his shoulders. "The magics used by the Ministry to detect a soul bond is different than Gringotts," he said.

"You know it's a soul bond?" burst out Harry, becoming even more distressed.

"Yes," Boldblood answered him, "I assure you that this information is held in the highest confidentiality."

"Who does know?" Sirius asked.

"Myself, my assistant, and the goblin who recorded it," Boldblood answered. "He has since now passed, leaving just myself and my assistant."

Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling better that only two extra people knew about the soul bond, but still confused. "November first?" he murmured. "Of 1981?"

"That is correct," Boldblood answered. "The bonding was detected just before dawn that morning."

Harry frowned at the desk, unsure of what to make of this. "Why specifically then?" he asked.

"That was when we detected the bonding ceremony."

"Bonding ceremony?" Harry asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you were bonded to Ginevra Weasley just before dawn, November first, 1981, by an unknown person or force."

Harry's frown became even deeper. He was half aware of Mrs. Weasley asking Ginny what was the matter, half aware of Remus and Sirius staring at him with open mouths.

_What the bloody hell is going on?_

_I have absolutely no clue._

_Something bonded us the day your parents died?_

_Or someone._

_Who?_

_Dumbledore?_

_Why would he do that? He didn't know about it until Mum told him!_

_What if he did, though?_

_I doubt it._

_Then who was it?_

_I have absolutely no clue. I always thought… I don't know. I guess I just thought we always had it._

_I did too. I never thought about an origin of our bond._

_We just were born like this?_

_Yeah, I guess._

"Harry?" Sirius said.

"What?"

Sirius opened his mouth, and shut it again, shrugging. Remus was frowning as he stared at the velvet pouch in his hands.

"I gather that all this information is new to you?" Boldblood said.

"Yes," Harry answered, unable to meet the goblin's eye. "We didn't even know we were already married until this summer."

"I had assumed you were aware of this," Boldblood told him. "My apologies for not telling you sooner."

"It's okay," Harry said. "There was no reason for you to think we didn't know, I guess."

"What was your initial question, Mr. Potter? Relating to your marriage?"

"Erm, just if there was anything I needed to tell you or that needed to be done," Harry said. "But I guess not."

Boldblood shook his head. "No, there is no information I need from you. Mrs. Potter's personal savings account was added to your own last summer when you asked to transfer your own personal vault to your family vault."

"Ginny has a savings account?" Harry said.

"Yes," Boldblood said with a nod, "a small amount of money set aside by her parents from her birth. There were a few additions to it over the past decade, mostly interest save for a few lump sums by her grandparents until their deaths in 1984 and '87."

Harry nodded vaguely, still unsure of what to do. Boldblood waited for him to speak again, and when he didn't, turned to Sirius.

"Was there anything else?"

"Not for Harry's account, no," Sirius said. "I made a change to my account earlier this year, has that been processed?"

Boldblood pushed back his chair again, then moved to filing cabinet and opened the first drawer. He took a folder from it, looked over it, then nodded and replaced it. "Yes, Mr. Lupin's name has been added to the account."

"Thank you," Sirius said, rising from his seat. "I believe that is all for now, then."

Boldblood bowed at the waist, as did Sirius. Remus rose from his own chair and copied the bow, then Sirius caught Harry's eye and raised his eyebrows, so Harry did as well.

"Have a good evening, Boldblood," Sirius wished the goblin.

"Thank you," Harry said, gratefully even though he was still slightly shocked.

_Why on earth do we keep finding out things happened years ago that we really ought to have known much sooner?_

_I don't know, sweetheart._

Sirius touched Harry's shoulder, and he followed him and Remus from the office, back into the main hall of the bank. He walked behind them again, watching as their hands occasionally brushed from the way they walked so close together.

"What shop are they at again?" Sirius asked, meaning the other five of their group.

_It's called something Bridal Emporium._

"Something Bridal Emporium," Harry said.

"That's very specific, thank you," Sirius said sarcastically.

Harry heard Ginny asking her mother what the store was called.

_Something Old, Something New Bridal Emporium._

"Something Old, Something New Bridal Emporium," Harry clarified.

"That's better," Sirius said, looking around the thinning crowds of the main street. "There it is."

_We're coming, warn your mum._

_We haven't settled on a set of robes for me yet._

_Really?_

_Oh, shut up Harry, wedding robes have to be extremely specific. We have Hermione's and I'm trying on the final four right now._

_Well, that's good at least._

"Harry, keep up," Remus called. Harry lengthened his stride to follow behind his godfathers.

They entered Something Old, Something New and a soft musical tone chimed above their heads; a petite girl standing at a counter by the door looked up at the sound. A name tag flashed – reading Cecilia something – in the light as she turned to face them, lowering what she had been reading a moment before. Her eyes widened as they landed on Harry's forehead and the scar there, then got even larger when they landed on Sirius. She seemed conflicted on whether or not to welcome them or call the Auror Department.

"Don't panic, I was cleared last summer," Sirius said quickly. The girl hesitated again, her face suspicious now.

"Okay?" she said very questioningly, her eyes still quite large behind her glasses.

"We're here to meet the Weasleys," Sirius told her. "Molly and her daughter Ginny."

The suspicion vanished, and she looked back at Harry. "Ohh, okay, of course, this way." The girl set down a magazine she had been holding and stepped out from behind the front desk; she opened a door leading off the main showroom and started up a flight of stairs. Harry followed directly behind her, Sirius and Remus behind him. They reached the second floor, and the girl knocked on a doorframe, covered by a white curtain.

"Mrs. Weasley," she said, sticking her head in. "Um, Sirius Black is here, with Harry Potter."

"Oh, I told them –" Harry heard Mrs. Weasley sigh – "alright, they can come in."

The girl turned back to them and waved them in; Harry pushed the curtain away and stepped inside. The first thing he saw was Mrs. Weasley, sitting on a sofa with Aunt Petunia and Gram, her arms crossed over her bosom and frowning at him.

The second thing he saw was Ginny. She was standing on a raised platform surrounded by tall mirrors. Her face was unamused, her dark brown eyes sparkling with a kind of angry mirth, her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. Her arms were sheathed in white lace, a high lace collar covered her collarbones, a satin sweetheart neckline led to a bodice that was long and sewn with beaded lace; it was tight to her waist, where it flared out into a skirt that gradually shifted from white to a pale orange. She raised an eyebrow at him, her arms folding over her chest, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off the change from the lace to the satin.

"Harry, would you mind going all the way in the room, and not stopping in the middle of the doorway so we can come in too?"

Sirius's voice caused Harry to snap out of the kind of trance he'd fallen into; he stepped forward quickly, allowing Remus and Sirius to follow him into the room.

_I know you were staring at my boobs._

Harry realized then that his face was flushed because it flushed even redder.

_Sorry. You're just – you're beautiful._

Ginny blushed too, then, and looked down at the hem of the skirt.

"What do you think, hmm, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley said.

"I, uh, it's – it's – " Harry stammered.

Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow.

"He thinks it's beautiful," Hermione translated.

"Well, take a seat, if you're here you might as well participate," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I suppose it's no use trying to keep up the pretense of tradition."

Ginny met her mother's eye and a look passed between them. Harry could tell then that Mrs. Weasley had known all along that she wouldn't be able to keep Ginny's robes a secret.

"I'd like to try on the other ones," Ginny said. "This one's pretty, but the high collar isn't very me."

"That's just fine, dear," said a woman Harry hadn't noticed until she spoke. She stepped forward and helped Ginny step off a stool, then down off the raised platform; Ginny had bunched up the skirt in her hand and was leaning over it to see her feet.

_It's too poofy._

_Of course, it is._

The woman – _Her name's Rebecca_ – led Ginny to a changing room; Ginny stepped in, then asked her to unzip the back of the dress. Rebecca did as she asked, and Harry caught a glimpse of Ginny's back, her shoulder blades sharp and her skin pale but for the freckles scattered over her, before the shop woman pulled a curtain shut. Harry realized that his mouth was slightly open still, and shut it hurriedly. Sirius caught his eye and chuckled. Harry flushed bright red again and muttered something about Sirius stuffing it under his breath.

A moment later, Ginny passed the dress out through the curtain to Rebecca, who took it and replaced it with a set of robes, this one a softer white. It seemed that it took longer for girls to don dress robes than boys because she didn't exit until a minute or two later.

Opening the curtain with one hand and holding her skirts with the other, Ginny stepped out of the changing room and walked back to the raised platform. Rebecca smoothed out the layers of the robes, and Ginny turned to face them. Harry felt just as appreciative of this as the first dress; the outer robe was tight to her torso, then relaxed some at the hips, but didn't flare as the other dress did; the sleeves were slit down the from the shoulder, but there was a second gown beneath it, the sleeves clinging to her arms. The neckline of the robe plunged low in a V, and the gown beneath it had a scooping neckline that was hemmed in gold. The cuff of the sleeves and the final hem of the skirt had a gold border as well.

_Your mum picked that one?_

_Yep._

"What do you think?" Mrs. Weasley asked, and Harry could hear the smile in her voice without even turning to look at her.

"It's nice," Ginny said.

"I liked the first one better," piped up Ron.

Ginny made a face at him. Harry elbowed him for her, and Ron glared at him. When Harry shrugged, he turned his glare on Ginny.

"It looks more comfortable than the first," Hermione said.

"It is," Ginny said, rotating on the stool to look at herself in the mirrors.

"But?" Rebecca asked.

"I don't think so," Ginny sighed, turning back to face her mother. "Sorry, Mum."

"Oh, don't be sorry dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "If you don't like it, that's fine."

"I don't like it," Ginny said.

Mrs. Weasley shrugged. Gram leaned towards her and patted her arm, whispering something to her. Mrs. Weasley smiled to herself lightly while Ginny stepped down again and walked back into the changing room. A minute later, she re-emerged in another lace gown, this one more of a yellower color. As she mounted the stool, Harry watched the way the dress clung to her frame. He liked it well enough.

_The way it makes my butt look has nothing to do with the final decision._

_I respectfully disagree._

Ginny turned and rolled her eyes at him. Harry smirked. The robes really were lovely, unlike the first one, the outer robe was made entirely of lace. The sleeves were a more floral pattern, much of her shoulders were exposed, and the scooping neckline had an inch or two of pure lace before the satin undergown. The satin gown was a pure white, contrasting the old effect of the lace, and fell to the ground and stopped just past her ankles. The lace robe split at the waist to expose the satin gown beneath, then fell just past it. A cloak was attached to the shoulders of the robe, trailing a few feet behind her.

 _Wow,_ was all Harry could think.

_I like this one too, thanks._

"Well?" asked the shop woman.

"It's really pretty," Ginny said, turning to look at the back of the gown. "I especially like the cape." She lifted the cape and twirled a little on the stool, then let it fall over her side.

"This is one of my personal favorite designs as well," Rebecca said, her face positively glowing. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"I agree," Mrs. Weasley said.

 _What she said,_  Harry thought.

_Are you still staring at my butt?_

Harry quickly jerked his gaze upwards.  _No._

Ginny looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. The shop woman looked at him too, seeming to think Ginny was asking his opinion.

"What do you think, Mr. Potter?" she said.

"It's beautiful," Harry replied.

"He seems to have some control over his tongue at last," Rebecca chuckled. Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled at him.

"Do you want to try on the fourth gown?"

Ginny pondered a moment, then nodded and stepped down. She changed, then exited the changing rooms again, and Harry immediately forgot about whatever he had been thinking the second before. She took the stool again, her back to the room, her beautiful back, completely exposed by the cut in the gown.

_Look at the rest of the dress too, please._

Harry tried to subtly shake himself; look at the rest of the gown. He could do that. The scoop in the back stopped just past her waist, and Harry could almost count the freckles on her back; there was a line of them, all leading down –

_Harry._

_Sorry._

The gown had lace, like the rest of the dresses, but this lace wasn't pure white or aged, rather it was a soft white, the color Harry guessed to be ivory. The sleeves were satin, tight to the elbow where they loosened and flared into an angel sleeve. From what he could see of the back of the gown, there were a few layers to the skirt, the longest making the train a few feet long. As Ginny turned to face them again, he saw that the neckline of the gown was a sweetheart as the first had been, the dress clung to her curves and accentuated her hips perfectly as it loosened over her legs; the layers were three, one of lace, one of a shimmery, sheer fabric, and finally satin. It was simple, no extra colors or beads or slashed sleeves, and it was very beautiful.

_I like this one best._

Ginny met his eye and smirked.  _I figured you would._

 _It's not just the low back!_  Harry insisted.  _I like the… the…_

_Yes?_

_The train,_  he finished lamely.

Ginny's smile softened.  _You like the way it looks. I like the way it looks. I think I like this one best._

_You know what they say, fourth time's the charm._

"It's very lovely," Mrs. Weasley said.

"It is," Hermione agreed. "Ginny, you look positively radiant."

Ginny beamed at her friend, clearly pleased. "Thank you, Hermione. I'm glad you found this one."

"What do you think so far, then?" the shop woman asked. Ginny turned to examine the dress from the side, then did a little shimmy to let the skirts flare out. Ginny tapped her chin, then shut her eyes and Harry knew she was looking through his eyes to see what it looked like from the back. She opened her eyes again, then lifted the skirt and turned around on the stool.

"I like this one best," Ginny said, catching her mother's eye.

Mrs. Weasley gave her daughter a warm smile. "You think this might be it?"

Ginny nodded. She looked over at Mr. Weasley, her eyebrows lifting. Her father emulated Mrs. Weasley's smile, and Ginny grinned.

"This is it," she said, looking at the shop woman.

Rebecca clapped her hands together and grinned. "Wonderful, my dear, wonderful." She approached Ginny on the platform and began checking the fit of the gown, pinning here and there. A few minutes later, she finished and let Ginny down; she changed back into her street clothes, the shop woman taking the gown and enveloping it in a dress bag.

Ginny exited the little changing area and the group made their way downstairs; Rebecca led them, carrying Ginny's dress. They reached the front counter and the witch who had greeted them looked up.

"Cece, dear, take this to the back for me," Rebecca said to her. The witch took it and made her way out the room, disappearing behind a curtained doorway. Harry and Mrs. Weasley reached the front counter at the same time, as Rebecca rang them up.

"With all alterations necessary, it comes to 345 Galleons and 10 Sickles," Rebecca said. Mrs. Weasley reached into her purse, but Harry touched her arm.

"I can pay for it," he said softly. She looked up at him, then smiled and shook her head.

"No, thank you dear, but the bride's family traditionally pays," Mrs. Weasley told him.

"Mum, please, I insist, let me get it."

Mrs. Weasley hesitated. "It's okay, Harry," she said finally. "Thank you, but no, we planned for this." She drew a more threadbare coin purse from her handbag and began to count out Galleons and Sickles, weighing them on a scale the shop woman gave them. Harry stepped back and to Ginny, then shrugged.

 _I tried,_  he said.

 _Thank you for trying, Harry,_  Ginny thought.  _At least you paid for Ron's._

Harry echoed her shrug.

They left Diagon Alley a short while later, Mrs. Weasley saying that she would return in a few days to pick up the completed robes for the four of them. At the Floo, Mr. Weasley invited Sirius and Remus to return with them to the Burrow for supper. They accepted, and all of them Floo'd back to the Burrow.


	47. Happy Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay; simple explanation, I forgot, but you don't want to hear that. I'll be back again soon with another update, I'm still trying to get you lot up to date with ff.net

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

**Happy Halloween**

**Ginny**

 

 Supper turned into a small party; her mum had expanded the kitchen table and set it for seventeen, and as Ginny helped her put out silverware and dishes, she asked who the extra four seats were for.

 

   “Hagrid is coming, and Tonks is as well,” her mother said. “And… some old friends, Brom and Nessa.”

 

Ginny stopped as she set a plate down. “My godparents?” she asked.

 

 Her mother looked up at her, her hands falling against the table. “Who told you…?”

 

   “Hagrid did,” Ginny answered. “He told me I was the flower girl at their wedding. He showed us a picture.”

 

 Her mother gave a nod. “Yes. They disappeared a year later. I never told you… I’m sorry.”

 

 Ginny crossed around the table and hugged her mother. “It’s okay mum. I understand.”

 

 Her mother touched a hand to her cheek, her eyes watering and a soft smile playing about her lips. “You’re a very mature girl, Ginny,” she murmured. “I’m so glad that you are.”

 

 Ginny gave her a smile. “Guess you raised me right, then, yeah?”

 

 Her mother chuckled lightly as she patted her cheek. “Yes, I guess I did.”

 

   “Hey, mum, when’s dinner going to start?” Ron asked.

 

   “As soon as everyone is here,” Mum said, immediately switching back into mother-coordinator-extraordinaire mode, “which should be soon.”

 

   “I’m hungry,” he whined.

 

   “It’ll just be a minute, dear, you’re not going to starve,” Mum scolded him as she bustled about the kitchen once more. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips.

 

   “What?” he said.

 

   “Never mind,” she sighed. “Boys…”

 

   “What?” Ron demanded.

 

   “Ron, come and make yourself useful!”

 

 It wasn’t long before dinner was on the table; Hagrid arrived shortly after seven having Portkeyed to the back yard, and a few minutes after that, while Hagrid sneaking rolls from the table, the grate flared green with someone taking the Floo. Mum rushed into the sitting room, her hands wringing out a towel, and Tonks stepped out. Mum visibly deflated, then hurried forward to fuss over Tonks.

 

   “I’m fine, Molly, don’t worry,” Tonks laughed.

 

   “The papers said someone got killed last week!” Mum fretted. “Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

 

   “Yes, I – I’m fine,” Tonks insisted.

 

   “Fit as a fiddle,” Sirius said, throwing an arm over her. “Right?”

 

   “Yes,” Tonks nodded. “Just tired.”

 

   “When did you get back?” Harry asked.

 

   “Just this morning,” she answered. “I had to get checked over by a Healer, then I visited Remus and Sirius.”

 

   “You look a little pale,” Mum said, touching Tonks’s cheek. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

   “Yes, I mean, well, I’m still in a bit of shock over John Smith,” Tonks said, her cheeks suddenly flushing. “He was the American who was killed.”

 

   “Were you there?” asked Harry.

 

   “Yeah, I was there,” Tonks sighed. “Went to his funeral yesterday.”

 

   “I’m so sorry, dear,” Mum murmured. “Here, come and have a seat, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

 

   “Maybe some firewhiskey to go with it,” said Ginny’s father.

 

   “Yes, please,” Tonks said with a little laugh.

 

   “Ah, well, it’s a little early in the evening for firewhiskey,” Sirius said as he followed Tonks and Mum into the kitchen.

 

 Tonks glanced over her shoulder at him, confusion crossing her face, then her expression suddenly closed and she nodded. “Oh, yes, I suppose you’re right.”

 

   “Well, let’s get you some tea,” Mum said, just as the fire flared green once again. She stopped at the kitchen doorway, her gaze whipping around to face the fire, as the figures of Abraham and Vanessa Vance stepped from the grate onto the hearth.

 

   “Nessa,” she said.

 

 Mrs. Vance’s head turned towards the voice. She raised her arms, and Mum stepped away from Tonks, crossing to her. She took Mrs. Vance’s hands, then Mrs. Vance touched a hand to her face.

 

   “Oh, Molly,” she sighed, and the two women hugged. Ginny thought she heard her mother give a sniff as she embraced her old friend.

 

   “It’s good to see you two,” Mum said.

 

   “I wish I could say the same to you,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

 Mum released her. “Well, you can see me with your Inner Eye,” she said. “And you’re both late.”

 

 Mrs. Vance laughed. “Still the same old Molly, even after seven children.”

 

 Mum grinned. “If you asked them, they’d likely tell you that I’ve gotten worse.”

 

   “I highly doubt that that’s possible,” Mrs. Vance said. “You’re the epitome of bossy.”

 

  _Hey, do you think that’s why Ron likes Hermione?_

_Because she’s bossy like our mum? Harry, don’t be daft._

_It’s a thing! Muggles do all sorts of studies on this!_

_Oh, hush._

 

   “And you’re the epitome of quick wit,” Mum said. “Come and sit down, dinner’s ready and waiting.”

 

 Remus ended up getting Tonks her tea as Ginny’s mother and father sat down with the Vances, the four of them talking amongst themselves. Ginny’s mum seemed to have de-aged the moment Mrs. Vance had arrived. As she smiled at her old friend, Ginny finally completely understood why her mother had never had the strength to tell her about them.

 

 Dinner was a wonderful event. There was creamy onion soup and baked chicken, mashed potatoes and grilled vegetables, and homemade apple cider for drinks. Her parents, Hagrid, and the two Vances talked amongst themselves for most of the meal, while Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione talked with Remus, Sirius, and Tonks. Nearer the end of dinner, Tonks began to nod off, and her head dropped onto Remus’s shoulder, who didn’t seem to mind. As the final plate was cleared of thirds, Mum got up and cleared the table with a wave of her wand, then summoned dessert; pumpkin pie topped with homemade whipped cream. The party dispersed a little then, with her parents and the Vances remaining at the table to eat their pie and drink tea, the rest of them moving into the living room to relax into chairs. Harry’s aunt and grandmother said their goodbyes at that time, about half nine, then left in Mrs. Evans’s car. Hagrid took his Portkey back to Hogwarts not long later, promising to see them back at the school when the weekend was over. Dad produced butterbeer from the ice chest, handing it out to the teenagers, but served proper beer to the adults. Sirius and Remus collapsed into the same chair, Ginny, Harry, and Tonks curled up on a couch, while Ron and Hermione sat on the floor, Ron having convinced her to have a try at a game of chess.

 

   “Are you and Remus going to stay the night in the village?” Harry asked of Sirius.

 

   “We might,” he said. “Depends on how he’s feeling after that beer.”

 

   “Oh, hush,” Remus scolded, “I tolerate alcohol much better than you do.”

 

   “Ignore him,” Sirius said, holding a hand up to block his mouth from Remus’s sight and whispering rather loudly, “it’s already going to his head.”

 

Remus backhanded him lightly. Sirius laughed his barking laugh and patted his cheek, making Remus scowl deeper.

 

   “If you two are going back to the flat, I’m following you,” Tonks said.

 

   “I thought you were going to your parent’s place?” Remus asked.

 

 She shook her head. “I talked to them over the Floo earlier, but… No, I’ll go back to the flat.”

 

   “Are you still living there?” Ginny asked.

 

   “’Course,” Tonks said. “It’s a nice big flat and my two roommates are gone two-thirds of the year. Plus, ol’ moneybags over there still pays more than half the rent.”

 

   “I pay part of the rent!” Remus said.

 

 Tonks looked at him, raising an eyebrow. He deflated somewhat, mumbling into the neck of his beer bottle, “Shut up.”

 

   “What?” Harry said, looking between them.

 

   “Sirius pays for the flat, the two of us pay barely anything,” Tonks said.

 

   “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sirius insisted.

 

   “Technically, since Sirius decided that we share all our funds now, I still pay a substantial part of the rent,” Remus said.

 

 Tonks raised the other eyebrow at him.

 

   “It counts!” Remus insisted.

 

   “Sure, it does, Remy,” Tonks said.

 

   “Don’t call me that!” Remus snapped, but he was half laughing. Sirius was guffawing by then, clutching his beer bottle to his chest as he giggled.

 

   “I apologize,” Tonks said unconvincingly, sticking her nose in the air and raising her cup of tea to her lips.

 

   “Sirius, make your cousin be nice to me,” Remus said, turning on Sirius.

 

   “Damn, aren’t I in a conundrum now?” Sirius laughed. “How can I tell what side to take?”

 

   “Obviously, you’re meant to take mine,” Tonks said.

 

   “No, he’s meant to take mine!” Remus insisted.

 

   “Moony, are you sure that I don’t handle alcohol better than you?” Sirius asked, plucking Remus’s half empty bottle from his hands.

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Remus snapped, snatching it back.

 

   “Checkmate!” Hermione cried.

 

   “Really?” Ginny said, leaning off the couch and peering down at the board.

 

   “Hermione, I can take that pawn,” Ron said. “It’s not checkmate.”

 

   “Shut up and let me win,” Hermione said fussily.

 

 Ron sighed. “Fine, it’s checkmate.”

 

   “Yes!” Hermione said, clearly very pleased.

 

   “Ah, young love,” Sirius sighed, dropping his head onto Remus’s shoulder. “How sweet.”

 

 Both Ron and Hermione flushed bright red. Remus patted Sirius's head mockingly.

 

 Just then, the clock chimed ten o’clock, and Ginny heard Mr. Vance’s deep voice from the kitchen saying that he and Vanessa had to leave. Her parents said their goodbyes, then Ginny looked around in time to see them rising and moving towards the living room. She looked back to where Ron and Hermione were still sitting, their faces pink, as Sirius said: “Look, the little lovebirds are blushing!”

 

   “Which lovebirds?” Mum said; she was leading Mrs. Vance towards the Floo. She spotted Ron and Hermione sitting at the chessboard on the floor, and raised her eyebrows, her lips pursing. “Those lovebirds, I see.”

 

   “Wait, Ron and Hermione?” Dad said, leaning over her shoulder. “Are they together finally?”

 

   “Dad!” Ron protested.

 

   “Since when?” Dad spluttered.

 

   “Start of the school year,” Ginny answered.

 

   “Damn,” Dad muttered. “Now I owe Charlie five galleons.”

 

   “You bet on your own son entering a relationship?” Mum demanded.

 

   “Yes?” Dad answered hesitantly.

 

 Mrs. Vance gave a snort. “He bet on me and Brom, Molly, don’t you remember? It doesn’t surprise me.”

 

 Mum looked at her old friend and sighed. “I suppose that’s true.”

 

 Dad looked astonished that she wasn’t still scolding him.

 

   “Goodbye, all,” Mrs. Vance said as Mum helped her to the Floo. “Molly, thank you.”

 

   “It was no trouble,” Mum told her, once again hugging her. “I’d do anything for my best friend.”

 

 Mrs. Vance’s sightless eyes were glistening now as she released Mum. “Thank you,” she said again in a murmur.

 

 Ginny dropped her gaze, unsure of how to respond to this moment between her mother and this blind, damaged woman. She thought of the photograph that Hagrid had shown her, of the laughter in Vanessa’s eyes. She couldn’t imagine losing a friend like that for so long.

 

 Mr. Vance took Floo powder from the mantle, then threw it into the grate and announced their destination. Mrs. Vance released Ginny’s mother, then reached out for her husband and let him lead her into the green flames. As the hearth became still and empty once again, Mum inhaled deeply, then turned on her heel to face the room.

 

   “I’m off to bed,” she declared. “Remus, I put you in charge, do not let Ron or Sirius eat us out of house and home, don’t drink too much of that beer, and none of it to the little ones.”

 

   “How are we still little ones?” Ron demanded.

 

   “You will always be my little boy,” Mum said with an air of insistence. “Send them off to bed before long, will you? And I include Tonks in that.”

 

   “Of course, Molly,” Remus replied with a jovial smile. “I’m delighted to be trusted with your children.”

 

   “I’m not her child!” Tonks said.

 

   “Well, you count as one, naturally,” Mum said with a wave of her hand. “And no beer for you, either.”

 

 Tonks spluttered incoherently. Mum gave her a knowing look, then a sharp nod and started for the stairs. Sirius snickered.

 

   “Goodnight all,” Dad said, “if the wife is going to bed, it’s always best to follow to her.”

 

   “Have fun with that,” Sirius said.

 

 Dad chuckled while Ginny and Ron turned beet red and protested loudly. Harry elbowed her in the ribs, thinking _HA I told you so!_

 

 Ginny glared at him. “I blame you.”

 

   “Who’s laughing now, huh?” he sniggered.

 

   “I’ll forcibly make you relive that memory!” Ginny said threateningly.

 

   “No!” Harry whined. “Parents aren’t allowed to snog!”

 

   “Since when?” Sirius asked. “And why do you care?”

 

   “Remember that time back in the beginning of September when he had to stay behind because he spilled ink everywhere,” Ginny said.

 

  “Ginny!”

 

   “What time?” Remus asked, frowning.

 

   “Erm…” she paused, glancing at Tonks, then her brother and Ron. “The one where he… interrupted you by accident.”

 

   “Oh, that time!” Sirius said, starting to laugh. “Merlin, his face was the color of tomatoes!”

 

   “In hindsight, Harry, it is quite amusing,” Remus said while Harry’s face turned the color of tomatoes.

 

   “I don’t get it,” Ron said.

 

 Harry crossed his arms over his chest huffily. “Parents are not allowed to snog.”

 

 Sirius suddenly stopped laughing. “Wait… parents…?”

 

   “What are you talking about?” Hermione asked.

 

 Sirius was looking at Harry, his expression quite soft. “You think of us as parents?”

 

 Harry shrugged. “Closest thing I’ve had to any.”

 

 Sirius opened his mouth, closed it, then smiled at Harry.

 

   “Wait, did Harry see you two snogging?” Ron asked.

 

   “Can we stop discussing them snogging?” Harry asked.

 

   “It was PRICELESS,” Sirius said, quickly letting the moment go.

 

   “You were snogging?” Hermione said.

 

   “It’s something that happens rather frequently,” Remus sighed.

 

 Sirius looked at him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

 

 Remus looked at him. “Oh, shut up.”

 

 Sirius suddenly grinned again. “Or you’ll do what?”

 

 Remus chuckled to himself and shook his head. Sirius seemed content with himself for some reason and dropped his head onto Remus’s shoulder.

 

 Ron looked between Remus and Tonks. “Wait, but I thought you two fancied each other?”

 

 Remus went very pink very suddenly. Tonks snorted, then covered her eyes with a hand and shook her head. “Ron, you don’t have to fancy someone to flirt with them.”

 

   “But…” he shrugged.

 

   “How did I miss that?” Hermione muttered.

 

   “We are _very_ practiced at the art of being secretly gay,” Sirius assured her. “Been doing it for years.”

 

   “Couldn’t ever hide it from James or – or Lily, though,” Remus sighed. Ginny wondered what had made him hesitate so in the middle of his sentence. “Both of which were entirely your fault.”

 

   “My fault? Excuse me, but which of us was constantly _mooning_ over the other!”

 

 Remus looked at him with an expression that often predicted murder. “That pun was disgusting.”

 

 Sirius chuckled. “It was pretty funny.”

 

   “Yeah, it kind of was,” Tonks promised.

 

   “Wait, Tonks, did you already know?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Yeah,” she sighed. “Kind of hard to ignore.” When she caught Ginny’s frown, she added: “They never remember to use the proper charms when they’re at the flat.”

 

 Harry turned red again and covered his face with his hands. Sirius sniggered to himself while Remus sighed.

 

   “When did you tell Harry’s parents?” Ginny asked, ready for a good story and, a little, wanting to give Harry a break from the subject of his godparents snogging.

 

   “James found out first,” Sirius said. “I, erm, I ran away from home summer before our sixth year and went to stay with him. Told him the minute I got there.”

 

   “Lily walked in on us,” Remus said with a forceful smile. “I maintain that it was Sirius’s fault.”

 

   “Apparently, it was my fault,” Sirius said.

 

   “One hundred percent.”

 

   “I made Remus stop patrolling purely so we could have a snog in the one broom closet that Lily would be passing on her patrol,” Sirius said. “Totally my fault.”

 

   “See, they always forget silencing charms,” Tonks pointed out.

 

   “It’s always his fault,” Remus insisted.

 

 Sirius rolled his eyes. “Men, am I right, Ginny?”

 

 Ginny giggled. “Totally with you there, Sirius.”

 

   “Oi!” Harry protested as Remus said, “You’d better watch yourself, Black.”

 

 Sirius threw his head back and laughed, choking out a reply of: “Or you’ll do what?”

 

 Remus jabbed him in the stomach with a hand, making him gasp and stop laughing.

 

   “What’s with the ‘You’ll do what?’” Hermione spluttered.

 

 Remus smirked. “Inside joke.”

 

 Sirius sniggered again. Hermione looked to Tonks, who shrugged. “They never told me either. You think they would, considering how much of their shit I have to put up with.”

 

   “Tonks!” Sirius gasped. “Little ears!”

 

   “My apologies,” Tonks said, rolling her eyes.

 

   “What did mum do when she found out about you two?” Harry asked his godfathers.

 

 Sirius calmed his laughing. “Scolded us for nearly giving her a heart attack, then told us to lock the door when we wanted to use a broom cupboard for something other than its intended purpose.”

 

   “And reminded us that the cupboard was not silenced,” Remus added.

 

   “Then told Remus he was supposed to be patrolling,” Sirius said. “It was nice to know her priorities were straight.”

 

   “Straighter than you, obviously,” Tonks said.

 

 Sirius puffed out his chest. “I’ll wear that statement as a badge of honor, dear Dora.”

 

 Ginny yawned, feeling a little tired. She lifted Harry’s arm then settled against his side, pulling his arm over her to hug. Harry dropped a kiss onto her hair, then laced his fingers through hers.

 

   “Aw, look at them, Moony,” Sirius said, pointing with his beer bottle. “Merlin, they’re adorable.”

  
  
 Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Remus chuckled.

 

   “Do they remind you of James and Lily in our last year?” Sirius asked.

 

   “They do, yeah,” Remus said, a smile curling his lips.

 

   “They used to curl up on the couches just like that,” Sirius sighed. “She kept trying to get him to do homework with her, but they rarely ever did.”

 

   “Dad wasn’t one for homework?” Harry asked.

 

 Sirius’s smile saddened a little. “No, not really. He thought it perfectly fine to do it the night before.”

 

   “A kindred soul, if I ever heard of one,” Ron said.

 

 Both Remus and Sirius laughed. “You two would have gotten along well, yeah,” Sirius said.

 

   “Though, I advise doing your homework the day you receive it,” Remus said. “Or at least telling me that you did it then.”

 

   “Whichever works,” Sirius said with a wave of his hand. Hermione rolled her eyes pointedly.

 

   “When did mum and dad get together?” Harry asked, a sudden thirst to know growing in him.

 

 Sirius glanced at Remus. “Seventh year, right?”

 

 Remus gave a nod. “Slughorn – the Potions master while we were at school – he got sick of Sirius and James blowing stuff up on Potions, so he made Lily partner with James for the year.”

 

   “Yeah, good times,” Sirius sighed.

 

   “I mean, breaking the two of you up did very little,” Remus added, “as the professor assigned us as partners.”

 

   “It was frequently very hard to concentrate,” Sirius said with another sigh. Harry gave them a look that was clearly not amused. Sirius let out his barking laugh. “Look, that is exactly Lily’s scornful expression!”

 

 Remus plucked the beer bottle from Sirius’s hand. “I do believe that that is enough of that, Padfoot.”

 

 Sirius shrugged, taking Remus’s bottle instead.

 

   “It’s empty.”

 

   “Damn,” Sirius muttered. He put the bottle down.

 

   “So, they got stuck as partners during Potions?” Harry asked.

 

   “Yep,” Sirius replied. “See, they weren’t really friends before then. James, well, he was a bit much for her during our first years.”

 

   “She thought he was a bigheaded asshole,” Remus clarified.

 

   “Little ears, Remus!”

 

   “Sorry.”

 

   “Anyway, Lily and James didn’t really get along our first five or six years of school. It’s all very long and complicated, and you deserve a proper play by play, my boy, but I have consumed too much of Arthur’s lovely homemade beer to do it justice. James was always hitting on her, Lily found it in no way amusing; Slughorn put them as partners in our last year of school.”

 

  “They had to do so many collaborative projects,” Remus said. “Either Slughorn really liked group projects, or he wanted them to get together.”

 

   “Lily started to realize that James was not as much of an asshole as she thought,” Sirius continued.

 

   “I believe I heard something about little ears earlier, Padfoot.”

 

   “Oh, hush,” Sirius said with a dismissive wave. “Anyway, they got stuck working together so much that Lily eventually realized that James was secretly a nice guy inside.”

 

   “I think what really happened was James grew up,” Remus said, raising his eyebrows.

 

   “No, James and I made a pact back in first year never to do that,” Sirius told him.

 

 Remus raised his eyebrows further.

 

   “So, when did they get together then?” Harry asked, eager to learn more.

 

   “Around… around Halloween,” Sirius answered, his smile becoming a little sadder. “They went to Hogsmeade together, and didn’t look back.”

 

   “James told her he loved her at Christmas,” Remus said. “Lily nearly had a mental breakdown over it because she wasn’t sure how she felt about him.”

 

   “Didn’t they get married right out of school, though?” Ginny asked.

 

   “A year after, yeah,” Sirius nodded. “June of ’79.”

 

 Harry spoke again. “So it didn’t take Mum long to fall in love back?”

 

 Sirius shook his head. “No. Not long at all. Come Easter, James was already planning on asking her to marry him at the end of the year.”

 

   “James’s proposal was really quite romantic,” Remus sighed. “He put a great deal of thought into it. After exams were done, he got the House Elves to send up a cherry pie to where she was sitting, it had a little poem baked into the crust. Dropped to one knee in the middle of dinner.”

 

 Sirius chuckled. “She squealed.”

 

   “Nearly burst my eardrum,” Remus said with another sigh.

 

 Ginny turned to Harry. “How come you don’t do romantic things like that for me?”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ginny, if I had known when we met that we would end up married, I would have definitely planned a romantic pie poem thing.”

 

 The group laughed, even Ginny. She shifted in her seat to reach around his waist and hug him tightly, burying her head in his chest to muffle her giggles.

 

   “Just like James and Lily,” Sirius said softly.

 

 Tonks interrupted the laughter with a sudden gasp. “Fuck, did I fall asleep?” she said, looking around wildly.

 

 Sirius fixed his gaze on hers. “What part of little ears do you not get, Dora?”

 

 Tonks sat up with a sigh, rubbing at her eyes with a hand. “Apparently, all of it.”

 

 Remus reached over and patted her shoulder. “You’re fine, Dora. You’re exhausted, I’d bet.”

 

   “Yeah,” she answered, and to prove it, she yawned widely.

 

   “We should walk her back,” Remus said to Sirius.

 

  Sirius nodded, then took his beer back from Remus and drained the last of it. “That means it’s bedtime for you lot,” he said to them. “Go on, shoo.”

 

   “Why are you walking?” Ron asked as they rose from the couches, Sirius helping Tonks up. “Why don’t you just Apparate?”

 

 Tonks opened her mouth, but Sirius cut her off. “Apparating after drinking is a poor idea, Ron.”

 

   “You just had one beer,” Harry said, now confused himself. “Tonks didn’t have any.”

 

   “Oh, hush,” Sirius said, flapping his hands exasperatedly in their direction. “Off to bed!”

 

 Harry shrugged as Ginny got off the couch. Harry gave Sirius and Remus quick side-hugs, Ginny did as well, then they waved them off. Ron pushed himself off the ground and stretched, yawning.

 

   “See you in the morning,” he said, now heading for the stairs. “G’night.”

 

   “Night,” Ginny called after him. She looked over at Hermione, who was still sitting on the floor, her back to the couch.

 

   “How on earth did I not notice?” she asked in a hushed tone. “I mean, I figured out that Remus was a werewolf halfway into our third year!”

 

   “Really?” Harry asked.

 

   “I mean, it was sort of obvious once I read about them,” Hermione said with a shrug. “He was always so exhausted around the full moon, too.”

 

   “It’s not been as bad lately, have you noticed?” Ginny said. “I mean, the last full moon was a Sunday, and on Monday he just looked like… well, everyone on Monday.”

 

   “I didn’t notice,” Harry replied, his lips turning down in a frown. “I didn’t even know when the last full moon was.”

 

 Ginny gave a shrug. “I only knew because Luna was telling me about this weird flower she found that only blooms during the full moon.”

 

 Hermione gave a soft snort. “Of course,” she murmured.

 

 Ginny looked over at her. “Don’t make fun of Luna’s weird flowers! It was really a pretty flower!”

 

   “I’m sure it was,” Hermione assured her, “but there have been flowers that bloom only at certain points for centuries. It isn’t actually that weird.”

 

 Ginny gave a shrug. “Still. Remus was definitely not as tired over the past few full moons.”

 

 Harry echoed Ginny’s shrug. “Maybe there’s a new variant of Wolfsbane that makes the transformation easier or something.”

 

 Hermione let out a soft murmur of thought. “Perhaps,” she said quietly, then rose to her feet. “We should get to bed, it’s nearly midnight.”

 

   “Spooky,” Harry said, now following the two girls to the stairs. Both of them looked over their shoulders at him, then at each other and simultaneously rolled their eyes. “Okay, that actually was spooky.”

 

   “Oh, shut up, Harry,” Hermione yawned.

 

 Hermione left them on the third landing, continuing on to Charlie’s old room. Ginny flicked on her bedroom light, Harry going for his bag to get out his toothbrush.

 

   “Y’know, technically we could use magic for that.”

 

 Harry looked at her. “I will use magic to do everything but three things, Ginny.”

 

 She raised an eyebrow. “And those things are?”

 

   “Doing up my fly, tying my shoelaces, and brushing my teeth.”

 

 Ginny gave a snort. “You do that, Harry.”

 

   “Don’t judge me, you’re using a toothbrush too.”

 

   “Habit, alright?”

 

 Harry followed her from her bedroom to the bathroom across the hall. They brushed their teeth together in silence, then made their way back to her room. He dug out his pajamas, then went back into the bathroom to change. When he finished, he waited outside for Ginny to open the door again once she had changed. After five minutes, he knocked.

 

   “What?”

 

   “Are you decent?” he asked.

 

   “Yeah, come in.”

 

 Harry opened the door. Ginny was sitting on the bed, having taken out a book and leaned back against the pillows with her legs crossed at the ankles. It took Harry a moment to process that she was wearing one of his tee shirts.

 

   “I spilled syrup on mine this morning,” she muttered as he raised an eyebrow.

 

   “So you randomly have one of my tee shirts lying around?”

 

   “No, I packed this one just in case.”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course, you did.”

 

 Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, then went back to the book. Harry paused to listen to her thoughts and wrinkled his nose.

 

   “What even is that?” he asked, dropping onto the bed and peering at the cover. Ginny shooed him away from her with it.

 

   “I’m enjoying it, shut up.”

 

   “But what is it?”

 

   “It’s by this Muggle author, Stephen King.”

 

 Harry frowned. “Wait…”

 

 She looked up at him. “What?”

 

 Harry checked the cover of the book. “Um…”

 

   “What?”

 

   “Isn’t _The Shining_ , like, a horror story?”

 

 Ginny glanced at the cover. “Yeah, I s’pose.”

 

 He raised an eyebrow. “Okay. But you’re cuddling me when I get nightmares from hearing you read it.”

 

 Ginny hit him with it lightly. “I’ve only just started it, it can’t get that scary that quick. Turn the light off, will you please?”

 

   “Why are you even reading that?” Harry asked her as he got up to turn it off.

 

   “For Muggle studies. Professor Burbage asked us to pick a popular book in the Muggle world.”

 

   “So you picked _The Shining_?”

 

 Ginny glanced up at him. “Why not.”

 

 Harry rolled his own eyes and flopped back onto the bed. “Remind me to get _Two Towers_ from Gram’s house before we Floo back to Hogwarts tomorrow.”

 

   “Harry?”

 

   “What?”

 

   “Remember to get _Two Towers_ from your grandmother’s house tomorrow before we Floo back to Hogwarts.”

 

 Harry gave her a glare. She stuck her tongue out at him. He snatched the book from her and tossed it onto the floor, at which she protested loudly and tried to clamber over him to get it back, but she ended up elbowing him in the gut and he pushed her back onto the pillows. “That hurt!” he whined loudly.

 

   “Serves you right,” Ginny sniffed, slipping off the bed to move around to get the book. “Brat,” she added, dropping back onto her side of the bed.

 

   “Brat?” he protested. “You’re… a… a…”

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. _I can’t actually think of something._

_Bitch? Prick? Horrible excuse for a human being?_

_Well, those are all too mean._

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “Sometimes you are annoyingly adorable, Harry.” Harry grinned broadly and clasped his hands beneath his chin. Ginny snorted loudly. “That’s less adorable, Harry.” He dropped the look, then flopped back onto his pillows to look at her.

 

   “You’re beautiful, y’know.”

 

 Ginny flushed slightly. “You are so weird,” she muttered, her smile soft as she looked away.

 

 Harry shrugged. “It’s true.”

 

 Ginny shook her head at him as she reopened her book and tried to find her place. Harry decided he wanted a hug and flung his arms about her neck, resting his head on her shoulder. She looked down at him, her eyebrow raising.

 

   “What are you doing?” she asked him quietly.

 

 Harry shrugged. “Possibly being annoying?”

 

   “Wow, who would have thought.”

 

 Harry stuck his tongue out at her, then as she turned away, stuck his tongue in her ear. She shrieked and batted him away from him while he fell back on the bed, laughing.

 

   “You asshole!”

 

   “Your face! Priceless!”

 

 Ginny tossed the book onto her nightstand and pounced on him, her fingers quickly finding his stomach and tickling him ruthlessly. “How do you like this, huh?”

 

   “Ha! _Hic_ , staaahpppp!”

 

   “How does it feel to be on the receiving end!”

 

   “Staaahhhp! I ca–can’t breathe!” Harry wheezed through laughter.

 

   “You little shit,” Ginny said, pulling her fingers back so he could inhale a gasping breath.

 

 Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes, then propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. “What did I do to deserve this abuse?” he asked. Ginny stuck her own tongue out at him. Harry rolled his eyes and sat up, rotating on the bed so he could slip beneath the blankets. “It’s past midnight,” he told her, “we should go to sleep.”

 

 Ginny heaved a sigh as she nodded, silently agreeing with him. She switched off the lamp on her night table, sending the bedroom into darkness. She pushed her legs under the blankets, then reached out for her husband, letting his arms encircle her and settling down against his chest. Harry pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, making her shiver slightly, and gave her a quick hug.

 

   “Goodnight,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

 

   “Goodnight,” she echoed. Her shudder was not due to the temperature of the room. Harry fell asleep quickly, but Ginny did not, so she turned the light back on and resumed reading.

 

 Ginny didn’t remember what time she put her book away and went to sleep. It was very late, at least, the waxing moon was high in the sky. Maybe it was past midnight, she wasn’t sure. She switched off her light and set the book on the night table, then settled down in the bed beside Harry. He shifted, still asleep, and draped an arm over her waist. She shut her eyes, breathing deeply.

 

   “Harry, Ginny, breakfast is ready!”

 

  She squeezed her eyes tight. Maybe if she ignored it, it would go away.

 

   “Come on, pet, wake up, breakfast is ready.”

 

   “Go ‘way…”

 

 A hand stroked her forehead. “It’s nearly nine, you’ve slept long enough.”

 

 Ginny yawned, opening her eyes. Harry’s head was buried in the crook of her neck, and her mother was already leaving the room. “Yeah, fine, we’ll get up.”

 

   “Good, because I made pancakes again.”

 

 Her mother shut the door. Ginny sighed, looked down at Harry, who hadn’t moved. She prodded his shoulder. “Come on, you lazy oaf.”

 

   “Mmm…”

 

   “Why is it always you who refuses to get up?”

 

   “Because I’m a grump in the mornin’, that’s why.”

 

   “Well get up, Mum made pancakes.”

 

 Harry shifted, opening his eyes to look at her. “Well, whoop de doo,” he mumbled, then rolled over. “Fuck you.”

 

 Ginny gave a laugh. _You sure are a grump, Harry._

_Just lemme sleep._

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes at him, then threw off the duvet and rose up out of the bed. Harry shivered, so she pulled the blankets back over him. “I’m gonna go downstairs, when you get cold without me, come down.”

 

   “Sure, love.”

 

 She left the room, closing the door behind her. She paused on the stairs, seeing Hermione coming down, rubbing her eyes.

 

   “Morning,” Hermione mumbled. “Harry not up?”

 

   “No,” Ginny said, glancing over her shoulder at her now closed door. “Self-proclaimed, not a morning person.”

 

 Hermione gave a little laugh. “Neither am I.”

 

   “Is Ron up?”

 

 Hermione shook her head, looking over her shoulder. “No, he’s – I mean, I don’t know.” She colored suddenly, and when she looked back, she didn’t meet Ginny’s gaze.

 

 Ginny frowned at her blush, but didn’t ask. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “Er, let’s just go down, the boys will get up when they get up.”

 

   “Yeah, erm, I think your mum said she was making pancakes,” Hermione said, now hugging herself as her blush remained intense in her cheeks.

 

   “Yeah, she did,” Ginny mumbled, “erm, yeah.” She turned away, sure that Hermione wasn’t the only one blushing anymore.

 

   “Ginny?”

 

   “Yeah?”

 

   “We – Before you ask –”

 

   “It’s okay, Hermione, I don’t really care.”

 

   “No, I mean, he’s your brother –”

 

 Ginny turned back and touched her friend’s shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’m glad you two are… I dunno, happy, I guess? I don’t know what to say.”

 

 Hermione’s blush intensified. “Erm, yeah, we’re – we’re happy.”

 

 Ginny gave a nod. “Just don’t give me the details, please.”

 

 Hermione nodded as well, her gaze still on the ground. “I mean, it’s not like you and Harry – and he’s like a brother to me, y’know –”

 

   “Actually, we haven’t yet.”

 

 Hermione looked up. “You – oh, I didn’t mean –”

 

   “No, no, it’s okay, we just decided we ought to wait.” Now Ginny was the one who couldn’t make eye contact.

 

 Hermione nodded again, slowly. “Well, don’t give me details when you do,” she said with a little laugh.

 

 Ginny chuckled nervously as well, turning away again and starting down the stairs. A sudden thought occurred to her, and it popped out before she could stop herself. “Did it hurt?”

 

   “No, not at all.”

 

 Ginny gave a nod. “Good, uh, good.”

 

 They entered the sitting room and saw Ginny’s mother setting the table. “Morning girls,” she said. “Did you have a good night’s rest?”

 

   “Yeah,” Ginny said, intentionally stepping in front of Hermione so that she could block her friend’s probable blush. “Like a rock.”

 

 Mum looked up, her eyebrows raised. “Hermione?”

 

 Hermione looked startled. “Oh, yes, I slept well.”

 

 Mum set down the cup she was holding and pursed her lips. “Yes, I’m sure you did.”

 

 Hermione’s face drained of color; Ginny glanced between her friend and her mother, unsure of what to do, when suddenly, Mum chuckled and shook her head.

 

   “You took precautions, at least,” she said, turning away.

 

   “H–how did you know?”

 

   “Darling, that potion bottle is not hard to miss, even buried in the waste basket.”

 

 Hermione glanced between Ginny and Ginny’s mother, her face slack. “I – erm, you – you’re not angry?”

 

 Mum frowned. “Why would I be angry at you?”

 

   “Erm, well, Muggles at least – it’s a bit – erm –”

 

 Mum shook her head, then reached over and patted Hermione’s shoulder. “We are not Muggles, dear.” She turned away, and pointed to the cabinet. “Get the plates out, would you, dears?”

 

 Hermione looked at Ginny, shaking her head, her eyes wide. Ginny shrugged. “We’re not Muggles?” she whispered.

 

   “My mum would flay me alive,” she muttered, going to the china cabinet. Ginny shrugged again.

 

   “Morning.”

 

 Ginny turned, seeing Harry entering the kitchen. He was rubbing at his eyes under his glasses, still in pajamas, and his hair was a worse of a mess than usual. “Look, the dead man has risen from his grave,” she joked.

 

   “Hardy har har,” Harry said, pecking her on the cheek. “Saw Ron up, Mrs. Weasley – I mean, mum,” he corrected himself rapidly before she could say anything, then he leaned on Ginny’s shoulder, his forehead resting against her temple. “He was acting weird, too.”

 

 Ginny hurriedly hid the knowledge of what had happened, deciding that it would be much more entertaining if he had to find out on his own. “Dunno, maybe something spooked him. It is Halloween soon, after all.”

 

 Harry gave her a scornful look. “Ha, ha,” he echoed dryly.

 

   “Harry, dear, would you go to the ice chest and fetch another jug of milk for me?”

 

   “Sure, mum,” Harry replied, letting go of Ginny and crossing through to the pantry. Mum turned away from the stove, where she had made the last of the pancakes, to raise an eyebrow at her.

 

   “What?” she asked.

 

   “Sometimes I wonder whether or not you ought to be in Slytherin,” she said, turning away.

 

 Ginny snorted. “He says that all the time, too.”

 

 Mum pursed her lips again, turning away. “Ron, Arthur, come on, breakfast is ready!”

 

   “I’ll go get Ron,” Hermione said.

 

   “I’ll get Dad,” Ginny offered.

 

   “Thank you, girls,” Mum called as they left the kitchen. They went upstairs, Ginny turning off at the first landing while Hermione went on up to Ron’s room. The door to her parents’ room was ajar, so she knocked and went in.

 

   “Dad, Mum says breakfast is ready!”

 

   “Thank you, I’ll be down in just a minute,” her father’s voice came from the on-suite bathroom.

 

   “Kay,” she said, leaving the room again, closing the door behind her. She glanced up the stairs, but didn’t bother going to go looking for Ron and Hermione. She went back downstairs, finding Harry seated at the table staring at the plate of pancakes in the middle of it, his curly hair sticking up as if he’d just run his hands through it.

 

   “Hungry, are you?” Ginny asked, taking a seat as well.

 

   “Starved,” he said, yawning.

 

   “Dad’ll be down in a minute,” Ginny called to her mother.

 

   “Thank you, dear. You two can start eating if you like,” Mum said, setting a jar of golden syrup on the table.

 

   “Thanks, mum,” Harry said, grabbing a few pancakes from the dish with a fork. Ginny rolled her eyes, but took one as well.

 

 After breakfast, they packed up their things. Harry and Ginny walked to his grandmother’s house to get _Two_ _Towers_ and visit with his gram and aunt a little before they were due back at school. They ate lunch there, then said their goodbyes and walked back to her house, holding hands as they did. They found Sirius, Remus, and Tonks walking up the road leading to her house in the other direction and stopped to talk to them. Remus and Sirius were walking arm in arm, looking as if they had just been laughing about some great joke, while Tonks looked half asleep.

 

   “Taking the Floo from our house, are you?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Yep,” Sirius said. “Figured we’d go as one happy bunch.”

 

   “How come you’re not Apparating to school?” Harry questioned them.

 

   “What’s wrong with a little fresh air, every now and then?” Sirius asked. “Besides, what did I just say?”

 

   “We ought to go as one happy bunch?” Harry said.

 

   “Precisely.”

 

   “More like you two forgot to pay the subscription fee for the Floo this month,” Tonks muttered.

 

   “That makes more sense,” Harry said with a nod.

 

 Sirius ruffled his hair. “This one learns fast, Moony.”

 

   “Gerroff me,” Harry mumbled, waving Sirius away. “My hair’s bad enough as it is.”

 

 Sirius snickered. “James used to say the exact same thing.”

 

 Harry dropped his gaze, smiling a little. “Yeah? You used to make his hair more of a rat’s nest too?”

 

   “Oh, all the time, lil’ Prongs,” Sirius said, laughing full on now. “It was pretty much the only thing I could do to piss him off.”

 

   “No, not true,” Remus said. “Once we hit sixth year, all we had to do to piss him off was make a few noises in the dorm room.”

 

 Sirius snorted. “Oh, you’re going to bring that up now? You’re going to traumatize the poor boy.”

 

 Harry was indeed beet red. Remus sniggered. “Like father, like son.”

 

   “James was a mother hen, was he?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Oh, for sure,” Remus said, “hovered around us and everything. Especially Sirius.”

 

   “What was wrong with your mother?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Well, for one she liked to scream at me because I was in Gryffindor,” Sirius laughed. “Then when they found out Moony and I were a thing they freaked out to the point I ran away from home.”

 

   “Yikes,” Ginny said, then, more softly, “I’m sorry.”

 

   “Hey, my family were all nut jobs,” Sirius said, “comes from the generations of inbreeding.”

 

   “Wait, you’re not gonna go nuts on me, are you?” Remus asked.

 

 Sirius suddenly smiled wide, leeringly, and leaned in towards Remus, saying in a demented voice: “Who says I won’t?”

 

   “Oh, get off me, you weirdo,” Remus laughed.

 

   “The two of you, I swear,” Tonks mumbled. Ginny gave a little giggle as Sirius sniggered. Remus shook his head, tugging at the scarf around his neck.

 

   “It’s certainly much too warm for October,” he sighed, now unwinding the scarf. Sirius gave a shrug.

 

   “You’re one to complain,” he said.

 

   “What does that even mean?” Remus asked exasperatedly.

 

 Sirius shrugged again.

 

 _Old married couple,_ Ginny thought. _That’s what they are._

_But they’re not married? They are an old couple, though._

_Oh, hush, Harry, that’s not the point._

 

   “Remind me never to leave the two of you alone with my kid,” Tonks muttered.

 

   “What kid?” Harry asked.

 

   “Hypothetical kid,” she said quickly, “if I ever have one.”

 

   “Good plan,” Ginny said. “Harry, remind me never to leave any of our kids alone with them.”

 

   “Oi!” Sirius protested, looking put out. “You can’t keep a kid away from their great-godfathers!”

 

   “Great-gay-uncles is more like it,” Harry laughed. “Is there even such a thing as a great-godfather?”

 

 Sirius looked at Remus, who merely shrugged. “I’ve never been a godfather, so I wouldn’t know.”

 

   “Come off it, Moony, you’re just as much Harry’s godfather as I am,” Sirius said. “It may not be in writing, but you know what they say, paper is just paper.”

 

   “True,” Remus said, a small smile crossing his face. “I s’pose that’s true.”

 

 Sirius gave a contented nod, then reached up and patted Remus on the head, who rolled his eyes.

 

 They reached the driveway of the Burrow, turning down it and taking it at a meandering pace. Ginny dropped her head onto Harry’s shoulder. Remus was right, it was far too warm for October in the countryside of England.

 

   “Come along, you lot!” Mum shouted from the kitchen door of the house as they came into sight. “You’re due back at Hogwarts any minute now!”

 

   “Of course, we are,” Ginny sighed. “What time is it?”

 

 Remus checked his watch. “Half past two. Dumbledore requested you back by three.”

 

 Ginny gave a nod. “Figures, Mum can’t stand being late.”

 

   “It’s a good policy to have.”

 

   “Yeah, I s’pose.”

 

 They entered the kitchen, seeing Ginny’s mother bustling about with the tea kettle. “Hi, Mum,” Ginny called, walking straight through to the sitting room.

 

   “Good, you’re here,” Mum said distractedly. “There’s biscuits on the table in there if you’d like to eat before you take the Floo.”

 

   “Thanks,” she said, tugging on Harry’s hand. They found Ron and Hermione sat on the couch, Hermione tucked under Ron’s arm, talking in low tones. They stopped the minute they saw the two of them, Ron’s ears went red and Hermione’s smile was nervous. Ginny hoped Harry wouldn’t notice; she wanted the façade to last as long as possible.

 

   “Afternoon,” Harry said, “what have you two been up to all day?”

 

   “Nothing,” Ron said, “played another game of chess.”

 

   “Sounds like fun,” Ginny said, smirking at Hermione. Hermione flushed, looking away. Ron glanced between them, then scowled slightly; through some twin telepathy or other such magic, Ron could tell that Ginny knew. Ginny held back a snigger.

 

_What?_

_Nothing,_ she promised. _Nothing at all._

 

 Harry narrowed his eyes at her. She adopted an innocent air, then pulled him onto a couch and laid her head on his chest, her fingers finding his chest and tracing lazy circles. After a moment, he grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together. She smiled.

 

   “What are you lot sitting around for?” Sirius asked them. He put his hands on his fists, looking at them all with an expression Ginny guessed was meant to be stern. “We’re leaving in just a minute, go fetch your sh–stuff.”

 

   “Little ears, Sirius,” Remus said breezily as he dropped into an armchair.

 

   “Shut up, Moony,” Sirius said, coloring.

 

   “Or you’ll do what?” Remus asked, casually inspecting his nails. Sirius scowled harder.

 

   “That’s my line!” he protested.

 

   “As I seem to recall, I said it first,” Remus said, looking up at him with a smile.

 

 Sirius huffed. “Men,” he muttered, but dropped onto Remus’s lap anyway. “What are you waiting for?” Sirius asked them, “go on!”

 

 They laughed, his pouty expression and Remus’s smirk were a sight to see. The four of them got up from the couches and headed for the stairs, Ron and Hermione leaving them on the third landing. Ginny opened her door and went in to gather up her things. Harry started picking up his clothes, which had somehow been scattered across the room over the past two days. Ginny found a shirt of hers under the bed, so she wasn’t one to judge.

 

   “Ginny, one of your bras is in my bag.”

 

   “How did it get there?”

 

   “I dunno, come get it!”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes, snatching the bra from his bag. “It’s just a piece of clothing, Harry.” He mumbled something, and she laughed. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” She shoved the bra into her bag.

 

 They finished packing up their things a few minutes later and returned to the sitting room. Tonks had curled up on one of the couches with a copy of _Witch Weekly_ and Sirius and Remus were still sitting in the same armchair, bickering over something.

 

   “You have longer hair!” Remus was saying as they entered.

 

   “What does that have to do with it?” Sirius asked with a laugh.

 

   “Because! It helps you fit the part better!”

   “What are you two fighting about now?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Oh, we’re not fighting,” Sirius said. “We’re discussing.”

 

   “Squabbling,” Remus corrected.

 

   “Fine, we’re squabbling,” Sirius said. “Happy?”

 

   “Immensely,” Remus quipped.

 

   “But what are you squabbling about?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Which of them gets to walk Harry down the aisle,” Tonks said.

 

 Harry colored. “The groom doesn’t get walked down the aisle!”

   “Which of us plays the part of mother of the groom,” Sirius said, sticking his nose in the air. “I think Remus should do it.”

 

   “I think you should do it,” Remus said.

 

   “I think you should take the pole out of your ass,” Sirius said.

 

 Remus smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

 

 Sirius colored. “Shut up.”

 

   “I do not want to know,” Tonks sighed as Remus grinned triumphantly. “Someone make them stop!”

 

   “Boys, stop torturing poor Tonks,” Mum said as she entered, levitating a tea tray. “Here you go, dear,” she set it down in front of Tonks and gave her a cup.

 

   “Thank you, Molly, you’re a saint,” Tonks sighed.

 

   “Don’t mention it dear,” she said. “And don’t forget that card I gave you, Healer Ainsley is a better saint than even I.”

 

   “What do you need a Healer for?” Harry asked.

 

   “Never you mind,” Molly told him, wagging a scolding finger towards him. “Have some tea, dear.”

 

 Harry looked at Ginny, who shrugged.

 

   “Where are Ron and Hermione?” Remus asked. “Aren’t they done yet?”

 

   “Should be soon,” Ginny said.

 

   “Speak of the devil,” Sirius said, nodding to the stairs. Ginny turned around and waved to her brother and friend.

 

   “All ready?” Mum asked them. “Good, good; Arthur!”

 

   “Yes?” Dad’s voice came from the back room, where he did work on the weekends.

 

   “The children are ready to leave!”

 

   “Coming!”

 

 Mum waved at Tonks, who scooted upward into a sitting position so Mum could take the other end of the couch. She leaned back on the sofa, her eyes shutting.

 

   “Can’t wait for some peace and quiet?” Tonks asked.

 

   “You bet,” Mum chuckled. “Heavens knows I need it.”

 

   “Wait, Tonks, are you coming to Hogwarts with us?” Harry asked.

 

   “Yeah,” Tonks said. “Erm, I’ll be staying with them so I can take advantage of Hogwarts’ Floo.”

 

   “And punishing us for not paying for it this month,” Sirius muttered.

 

 Tonks pointed a finger at him. “It’s ten Galleons a month, Sirius, how did you forget?”

 

 Sirius put his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry I had other things on my mind! Like how lovely Remus will look playing mother of the groom at Christmas.”

 

   “Nope,” Remus sighed. “Not doing it.”

 

   “I don’t need to have a mother of the groom,” Harry said, “I can have two fathers of the groom, it’s fine.”

 

 Sirius looked affronted. “There must be a mother of the groom.”

 

   “What about Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked.

 

   “Oh, no dear, I’m mother of the bride,” Mum chuckled. “I can’t play both of your mothers.”

 

   “Fine, let Tonks do it then,” Harry said.

 

 Tonks choked on her tea. “Sorry, what?”

 

   “Be mother of the groom so these two will stop arguing about it?” Harry asked.

 

   “Um, okay,” Tonks said. “Erm, I don’t have to be an actual mother, do I?”

 

   “I was trying to get Remus to be it, Tonks, don’t worry,” Sirius assured her.

 

 Tonks nodded. “Erm, okay, sure, thanks.”

 

   “There, problem solved,” Harry said.

 

   “Alright, ready?” Dad said, now stepping into the sitting room.

 

   “Yes, I think they are,” Mum sighed.

 

 Dad clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Sad to see you gone so soon, kids,” he said.

 

   “Thanks for this weekend, Dad,” Ginny said, standing up and going to give him a hug. Her father patted her hair, then dropped a kiss onto the top of her head.

 

   “Of course, princess,” he said, smiling warmly at her.

 

   “Let’s get it over with,” Mum sighed. “Hugs, all of you.”

 

 Ginny hugged her mother, who kissed her cheek, then watched as she got hugs from Harry, Ron, and Hermione as well. Tonks even got a hug and a kiss. They lined up at the Floo, taking a pinch of the green powder one at a time.

 

   “To our quarters,” Remus said. Harry gave a nod, then threw the powder into the flames.

 

   “Defense Against the Dark Arts’ teacher’s quarters, Hogwarts,” Harry called, then stepped into the grate; after a moment, he vanished. Ron followed, then Hermione, then Ginny. She tumbled out of the fire, catching herself quickly on the other side. She brushed off soot, stepping out of the way for Remus, who was followed by Tonks and Sirius.

 

   “Off to your dorms, then,” Remus said.

 

   “Thanks, Remus,” Harry said. The four students left the teachers’ wing, taking the stairs up to the seventh floor and the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. At the stairs, Ron and Harry went up the boys’ while Ginny and Hermione went up the girls’; they said farewell for the time being at Hermione’s dorm, and Ginny continued on to the top levels. As she reached the door, it opened, revealing Hollins and her friend Greenley.

 

   “Afternoon, Potter,” Hollins said stiffly.

 

   “Afternoon,” Ginny said, stepping by so they could pass. She watched them go for a moment, as Greenley leaned in and whispered something Ginny couldn’t hear to Hollins, though she heard Hollins snicker. Ginny shook her head, going through the door and shutting it behind her. Harry was waiting for at the door to their room and opened it when she appeared in the stairwell. They went inside, Ginny going to dump her bag in her room, when suddenly the fire in their grate flared green and a head appeared in the hearth.

 

   “Harry, Ginny!”

 

   “Professor Dumbledore,” Harry said, approaching the fireplace. Ginny dropped her bag at the door to their room and walked closer.

 

   “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “I needed to tell you: On Tuesday, the Vances will be joining us again.”

 

   “What for?” Harry asked.

 

   “Tuesday is Halloween,” he said. “And Mrs. Vance has agreed to perform the séance.”


	48. Don't Mess With Ouija Boards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and spooky chapter, I hope, please do enjoy my first attempt at a spooky ghosty story and don’t forget to check out the newest chapter of the Wolfstar spinoff for extra feels.

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

**Don’t Mess With Ouija Boards**

**Harry**

 

 

 Harry’s hands shook slightly as he banged the brass eagle knocker. Ginny stood beside him, her hand clutching his tightly. The door opened, and Dumbledore beckoned them in.

 

 Monday had gone by fast, as did Tuesday, each second reminding them that that evening they would be speaking with the dead. Harry had been kidding about Halloween the night before and midnight being spooky, but as the clock chimed their entrance he jumped.

 

   “We are all here,” Dumbledore said, ushering them forward. The curtains were all drawn, the bookcases emptied, all the little trinkets and tables gone. The office had been cleared, with candle stands lining the room and a round table covered with a blood-red cloth in the middle of the room. Sat on the middle of the table was an object covered with a second cloth with a sheet of parchment and a quill atop it, and surrounding the table was a circle of salt. Sirius and Remus were at the table, as well as Mrs. Vance and –

 

   “Mum?” Ginny said, hurrying forward and grabbing her mother’s arm. “What are you doing here?”

 

   “Nessa told me she had consented to try a séance again,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I said I had to be here.”  


 Ginny patted her mother’s shoulder in attempts to reassure her. “It’ll be fine, mum.”

 

 Mrs. Weasley pulled her into a hug. “I hope it will, dear.”

 

   “Take seats,” Mrs. Vance said. Her voice was low, reverent even. “And listen carefully.”

 

 Mrs. Weasley sat beside her friend. Harry sat next to Sirius, Ginny took the chair beside him. Dumbledore sat beside her, putting Mrs. Vance between him and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Vance lifted her hands, her milky eyes closing. She whispered words under her breath, too soft for Harry to hear, and then reach forward and first took the parchment and quill. She whispered words again, and they suspended themselves midair, the quill poised over the paper, its feather pointing down. She pulled the cloth away from the object.

 

   “Wait, I thought that was a Muggle board game?” Harry asked.

 

   “Hush!” Mrs. Vance said. “This is no toy, boy, regardless of what foolish Muggles might think. Contacting the dead is not a game.”

 

 The Ouija board glistened in the light, made of a dark, glossy wood. The letters shone white, _yes_ , _no_ , _goodbye_ , numbers and the alphabet waiting for the triangular planchette to move under the fingers of a spirit unseen.

 

   “The Ouija board was a secret closely guarded by witches of my tenure for centuries,” Mrs. Vance said. “’Til a greedy _hoon’gan_ spilled the secret in the late 13 th century to a group of pagans in East Asia.”

 

   “What’s a –”

 

   “Do not ask questions,” Mrs. Vance snapped. “You may learn about this magic later, for now, you must listen to me, and obey my words.”

 

   “Okay,” Harry whispered. The layout of the room and her hush demeanor spooked him, certainly, but the Ouija board, that frightened him. As a child, he’d seen Dudley and other friends playing with one a few times. The last time they did, before Aunt Petunia took it away, the board had spelled out D-E-A-T-H and a vase of flowers had abruptly fallen off a nearby table. It hadn’t been the first time freaky stuff had happened around the board. It had once spelled out his name.

 

   “As we use the board, I have two rules. Do not break the circle, and do not speak. I will give each of you a mojo, which you must keep close to your heart for at least three days following tonight.”

 

 She reached into her robes, and withdrew seven cloth bags, holding them out in her hands. Mrs. Weasley took them from her and distributed them. There was a leather thong tying the bag shut, which extended into a long loop. Harry draped it over his neck and tucked it under his robes.

 

   “Do not take it off unless you wish to allow the possibility of possession.”

 

 Harry opened his mouth, and Mrs. Vance raised a hand. “Do not ask questions, Potter.” Harry shut his mouth, glancing at Ginny. He wasn’t sure how she knew he was about to ask anything.

 

   “We will join hands in a minute. Do not let go until I say so. And for God’s sake, _do not speak_.”

 

   “Why should we not speak?” Dumbledore asked.

 

 Mrs. Vance did not turn her head. “I can only do so much to protect any of you. What we are about to attempt is dangerous, and without training, it can be fatal. To speak to the dead is to invite them in. This connection is not a one-way street. If any of you were to say the wrong thing, or even mention something the dead should not know, you can open the invitation for them to linger after we say goodbye, you risk even letting something out.”

 

 Mrs. Vance held out her hands. “Not to mention it draws attention, and we don’t want the wrong kind of attention.”

 

 Dumbledore took her hand. “No… no, we don’t.”

 

 The group joined hands. Vanessa raised her head, her sightless eyes fixed forward, and began to chant in a low voice. “Kòm zanmi nou rasanble isit la, kè ki yo se verite, lespri fèmen nou rele ou, se pou nou pale ak yon sèl la nou ap chèche pou, pwoteje nou jan nou pale, pa pèmèt sa ki mal pwoche bò kote.”

 

 Harry looked around, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

 

  “Sicut amici nos colligimus, nostrorum corde sunt vera, spiritus prope nos, nos voco egrediemur ad te, ostendo nos un spiritus nos expecto, protegat nos sicut nos voco, permitto non malum prope ad nos.”

 

A candle flickered. Harry turned in his chair, and Mrs. Vance angled her head towards him. “Stay still, Potter.”

 

 He colored, and rooted himself in his seat.

 

   “As friends we gather here, hearts that are true,” Mrs. Vance whispered now in English, “Spirits near, we call to you, grant us speak with the one we seek, protect us as we speak, allow no evil approach.”

 

 There was quiet. Harry looked around cautiously, trying not to move too much.

 

   “We ask for a woman,” Mrs. Vance whispered. “We ask for she who gave birth to the man Tom Riddle, Jr.”

 

 The air chilled. The light in the room flickered, then two candles behind Mrs. Vance went out. She continued to speak.

 

   “This woman died in 1926, she gave birth to her son in an orphanage. We ask to speak with her.”

 

 The glossy wood of the Ouija board seemed to grow darker, and the planchette shuddered. Harry sucked in his breath.

 

   “Are you here?”

 

 The planchette lay still, then, agonizingly slowly, it began to move. It inched forward, drifting towards both _yes_ and _no_ , then it stopped.

 

   “Is there someone there?”

 

 Harry held his breath. The planchette shuddered again, then shot forward over _yes._

   “What is your name?”

 

 The planchette started forward, moving towards the letters, then it paused. It suddenly began to shake, shooting wildly across the board, not stopping over any letter or number. Then it froze, and it turned upside down. The planchette moved slowly again, deliberately, spelling out the name _Merope._

 

   “Hello, Merope,” Mrs. Vance whispered. Harry jerked his gaze up to her, then to Ginny. How could she tell? “Will you tell us what your son’s middle name is?”

 

 The planchette moved quickly now, M-A-R-V-E-L-L-O.

 

   “Where did you find that name?”

 

 Harry couldn’t take his eyes off it. Again, it moved quickly, he lost track of the letters halfway through. He looked at the paper and the quill, taking notes from the board. M-Y-F-A-T-H-E-R.

 

   “Yes, Merope, it was your father’s name. Merope, how did you die?”

 

 I-G-A-V-E-M-Y-L-I-F-E.

 

   “To who?”

 

 M-Y-S-O-N.

 

   “You died in childbirth?”

 

 The planchette shot to _yes._

 

   “Who is the father of your child?”

 

 T-O-M-R-I-D-D-L-E.

 

   “What is your surname?”

 

R-I-D-D-L-E.

 

   “Merope, will you tell us what your father’s surname is?”

 

 It didn’t move for a moment, then it traveled back up the board and landed on _no._

 

   “Why not?”

 

 A-N-G-R-Y.

 

   “What made you angry?”

 

 The planchette shook again, moving erratically across the board. Then, it calmed and began spelling out another word: A-B-U-S-E.

 

   “Your father abused you?”

 

 It shot to _yes_.

 

   “What was his name? Perhaps we could find him and have him arrested.”

 

 The planchette moved to _no_.

 

   “Why not? Where is he?”

 

 It spelled out one word, and Harry bit his lip to keep from gasping. D-E-A-D.

 

   “Merope, we need to know your maiden name.”

 

 The planchette lay still. Harry heard nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

 

   “Merope, are you still there?”

 

 The planchette shook again, then moved back to _yes_.

 

   “Please, we’re trying to find out information about your life. What was your maiden name?”

 

 G-A-U-N-T.

 

   “Gaunt!” Dumbledore gasped.

 

   “Be silent!” Mrs. Vance hissed.

 

 The planchette shot across the board to _no._ Then it began moving erratically again, it turned right side up once more, then spun around again to point towards Vanessa. It shot to the _H_ , then the _A_ , then to _R,_ and circled around the letter just to return to it, then it stopped over the _Y._ Harry jerked his gaze up to the parchment that was still dictating the session.

 

 H-A-R-R-Y.

 

   “Who is this? I command you, name yourself.”

 

 The planchette moved, going to the _M_. It paused, staying still.

 

   “Is this still Merope?”

 

 It moved to _no._

 

 Harry drew in a sharp breath. If he had been frightened before, it had been nothing. His mind went back to age eight, sitting behind the couch in the shadows where he wasn’t visible, listening…

 

   _“Do you wanna talk to someone? Yes? Who, then? What the…? Harry? Why would you want to talk to that little bitch?”_

 

   “Who are you?”

 

` The planchette returned to _M_ , but then it moved to _U_ , and then back to _M._ Harry’s eyes widened.

 

   “What is your name?”

 

 L-I-L-Y.

 

   “Mum?” Harry whispered.

 

   “Hush, speak not!” Mrs. Vance hissed once more. “Do you not remember what I said?”

 

 The planchette moved again, first to _yes_ then again spelling out Harry’s name. Mrs. Vance turned her blind gaze back on it. “How can we be sure that this is truly the mother of Harry Potter?”

 

 It moved, fast, too fast, Harry looked up at the quill tracking it. S-I-R-I-U-S.

 

   “What about him?”

 

 But it hadn’t stopped; -I-S-F-U-C-K-I-N-G-R-E-M-U-S. Sirius let out a laugh that was both shock and joy. Mrs. Vance jerked her face upwards, cutting his laughter short. She turned her face back to the board. “What else can you say to prove who you are?”

 

 G-I-N-N-Y-I-S-H-A-R-R-Y-S-S-O-U-L-M-A-T-E.

 

   “How can you know that?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

 I-M-D-E-A-D-I-K-N-O-W-A-L-O-T-O-F-C-R-A-P.

 

 Mrs. Vance’s face relaxed a little. “How can you be so clear, Lily? Are you alone?”

 

 The planchette shot to _no_.

 

   “Who are you with?” Mrs. Vance asked, once again cautious.

 

 J-A-M-E-S.

 

   “James?” Sirius whispered. “Can we talk to him?”

 

   “Be quiet!” Mrs. Vance hissed, but the planchette had already moved to _yes_ , and now was spelling out another word. Harry looked back up to the paper and quill to catch what it was saying; S-U-P-P-A-D-F-O-O-T.

 

  “’Sup, Prongs?” Sirius laughed.

 

  “No, be silent!” Mrs. Vance said.

 

 Sirius opened his mouth, but the planchette was moving again: Y-E-A-H-P-A-D-S-S-H-U-T-U-P. Sirius scowled.

 

   “Why are you contacting us?” Mrs. Vance said.

 

 Y-O-U-T-R-Y-R-E-S-I-S-T-I-N-G-T-H-E-U-R-G-E.

 

   “What urge?”

 

 M-Y-S-O-N-U-S-E-S-A-S-P-I-R-I-T-B-O-A-R-D-I-C-A-N-T-T-A-L-K-2-H-I-M.

 

   “What? No, I –”

 

 Y-O-U-N-E-V-E-R-H-A-D-K-I-D-S-T-H-E-N-D-I-E-D.

 

   “No, but –”

 

 H-A-R-R-Y.

 

   “This is freaky,” Harry muttered.

 

 Mrs. Vance opened her mouth but stopped at the planchette’s movement: M-U-M-H-E-R-E.

 

   “Mum?” he murmured. “What do you need?”

 

 For a moment, nothing happened, then: W-A-T-C-H-O-U-T.

 

 His stomach clenched. “For – for what, Mum?”

 

 U-K-N-O-W-H-O.

 

   “She’s getting weak,” Mrs. Vance murmured.

 

   “Mum, I –” Harry’s voice broke. “I don’t know what to say…”

 

 The planchette hadn’t stopped moving, however. -A-T-T-A-C-K.

 

    “Wha – attack? Attack what?”

 

 W-E-L-O-V-E-U.

 

   “Mum, wait, don’t go!”

 

 L-O-V-E-U-P-A-D-S-M-O-O-N.

 

   “W–we love you too, Prongs,” Remus said, and his voice was tearful.

 

   “Mum, don’t leave, please, I – I love you too,” Harry said.

 

 The planchette shuttered, then spelled out: G-I-N-N-Y.

 

   “What?” Harry said. “What about her? Is something wrong?”

 

 It began to shake violently, it moved wildly across the board, then stopped, point up, right over _good-bye_.

 

   “Mum?” Harry murmured.

 

   “Is someone still there?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

 For a moment, nothing happened, and Harry was sure that the moment had ended. Then, the planchette moved again.

 

_Yes._

 

   “Is it James and Lily?”

 

  _No._

   “Who is there?”

 

The planchette shot across the board, first to the letter _D_ , then to the letter _E_ , then to the _A_ , and Harry felt his stomach clench with fear as he guessed what would happen next; then to _T_ , and finally, to _H_.

 

 Mrs. Vance audibly gasped, then the planchette shot off the board and flew into the air, ripping through the paper suspended over the table and hitting the ceiling where it shattered into pieces. “ _Planchette Repairo!_ ” Mrs. Vance cried, and the pieces flew back together to fall and land on the board again.

 

   “We must say goodbye,” Mrs. Vance said. The planchette shook, staying still over empty space on the board. Mrs. Vance closed her eyes, and it began to move slowly, shuddering all the while, down the board, until it reached goodbye.

 

   “ _Inflammare_ ,” Mrs. Vance hissed, and the board caught fire on the table. She jerked her hands out of Dumbledore’s and Mrs. Weasley’s and drew a wand, waving it over the table. The board reduced to ashes, then vanished.

 

   “I told you not to speak,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

 Harry shrank in his chair.

 

   “Lily and James appeared, what did you expect us to do?” Sirius asked.

 

   “To not speak because that is what I told you to do!” Mrs. Vance cried, and there was fear as well as anger in her voice. “You drew attention to us! I do not know what that last spirit was but it was far from human.”

 

 Sirius paled. “It – that can’t be possible – can it?”

 

 Mrs. Vance waved her wand over the room and the candles all re-lit. Harry hadn’t even noticed that half of them had gone out.

 

   “I spoke first, I drew the attention of the Potters,” Dumbledore said. “My sincerest apologies, Vanessa –”

 

   “No, they were already there,” Mrs. Vance sighed. “They fought with Merope for control of the board nearer the beginning.”

 

   “They – they were waiting?” Harry whispered.

 

 Mrs. Vance suddenly turned her blind gaze on him. She stared at him, unseeing, for a moment, then nodded. “Something about you, boy, seems to be magnetic towards spirits.”

 

 Harry swallowed nervously. He didn’t know what to say, but Mrs. Vance seemed to not have the same problem, as she continued. “At least, towards those spirits in particular. You have observed a Ouija board being used before?”

 

   “Yeah,” Harry said. “My cousin –”

 

   “Played with one, did he?” she murmured. “Yes, he contacted your mother.”

 

   “How do you know?” Harry asked.

 

 Mrs. Vance said nothing for a while, then she rose from the table. “It’s a gift,” she said in a low voice.

 

   “Did he talk with anyone else? Who else did he contact?” Harry asked her, suddenly frightened as he thought of that crystal vase that had been sitting in the very middle of a table.

 

   “Professor, I hope you got all the information you needed,” Mrs. Vance said, avoiding Harry’s question, “as I will not attempt this again.”

 

   “I – yes, I did,” Dumbledore said, and even he sounded rattled. “More than enough, I believe.”

 

 Mrs. Weasley rose from her chair and dropped a quick kiss on Ginny’s head before taking Mrs. Vance’s arm and leading her away. “I’m going to return to my quarters,” Mrs. Vance told them in a voice of finality. “Keep those mojos on for at least three days.”

 

 Harry touched the cloth bag tucked beneath his robe. He could only hope that the little sack would protect him. Mrs. Weasley helped Mrs. Vance through the Floo, vanishing from sight. Ginny turned to Harry, her eyebrows raised.

 

_Normally I’d ask who was pushing, but that clearly doesn’t apply here._

_Not the time, Gin._

 She faltered, then squeezed his hand. _Sorry. I – I’m freaked out too._

_I just talked to my parents for the first time that I can remember, Ginny._

_Yeah. Yeah, they were there._

_My – my mum swears?_

Ginny smiled, squeezing his hand again. _Apparently._

_And my dad says “’sup?”_

_Yeah, he does._

_They’re out there somewhere. There is an afterlife. I’ll – I get to meet them one day, Ginny._

_One day._

 

   “… concerned about what Lily said about an attack,” Dumbledore’s voice interrupted their thoughts, “and why they suddenly mentioned Ginny near the end.”

 

   “Well, we’ll never get to find out, I guess,” Sirius said. “Seeing as Vanessa won’t try again.”  


   “No, no, and I would never ask her to again,” Dumbledore said; his voice was almost sorrowful. “She risked a lot to do this.”

 

   “But, Muggles play with Ouija boards all the time,” Remus said. “They usually get away with no negative effects.”

 

   “Muggles play with a wooden board, what Vanessa did tonight was not a game,” Dumbledore said in a voice that could only be described as harsh. “They carve letters into wood; that board was a heavily enchanted object.”

 

   “But she destroyed it?” Harry said.

 

   “You can only use Ouija boards once,” Dumbledore said with a sigh.

 

   “How can Muggles play with wooden boards and contact the dead just as we did tonight?” Remus asked. Sirius glanced at him, then set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently; Remus visibly released tension from his shoulders.

 

   “Muggles do not contact the dead,” Dumbledore said as he shook his head. “They only think they do. There’s a reason they touch the planchette and we do not; one or more of them subconsciously pushes or pulls it, leading them to believe that they contacted someone beyond the grave.”

 

   “But then – how did my cousin contact my mother?” Harry asked. “Mrs. Vance said it herself.”  


 Dumbledore looked at him, and Harry saw uncertainty in his eyes. “I – I do not know, Harry. Perhaps your mother’s spirit truly is following you, perhaps your magic influenced their board and gave her leeway. I do not know.”

 

 Harry hung his head. Sirius touched his shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he had done with Remus. He nodded, smiling briefly, trying to communicate that he was okay.

 

_There’s really an afterlife, Ginny._

_There is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is not only a title it’s a disclaimer, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mess with Ouija boards. They are not toys and they’re not one-way phone calls. Do not let someone pressure you into playing with one, don’t play with one if you don’t believe, do not play with one period. If you even think that using a Ouija board might put you in contact with a spirit, then some part of you believes that spirits exist, and you better think about the kinds of spirits out there and whether or not you want the possibility of messed up stuff happening to you or even possession. Ouija boards are not toys. Contacting the dead is not some fun game you play when you want to know if someone has a crush on you.  
> Forgive me for being intense, but legit, don’t mess with them. bad juju honey, just don’t.


	49. Lions Win, Snakes Are Grim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was short, sorry, but I didn’t want to upset the mood. To make up for it, here is an impossibly long chapter that I started and didn’t realize how long it was until it was too late and didn’t want to break it into two chapters.

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

**Lions Win, Snakes Are Grim**

**Harry**

 

 Knowing out that your dead parents are out there somewhere, watching over you from an afterlife you don’t know how to describe is a strange feeling. So, on Wednesday morning, Harry woke up long before the alarm and stared up at the ceiling for an uncertain amount of time, running over and over in his head the image of the planchette spelling out his name. It was a strange feeling. He couldn’t help but wonder if his parents were watching him even then.

 

 Remus called them over the Floo at 6:30 to fetch them for that morning’s training. He told them that he, Sirius, and Tonks were already in the Room of Requirement waiting for them, and to just take the Floo there. Ginny got out of the shower a minute later, and they Floo’d to the Room. They found Tonks sitting on a floor mat doing stretches, Sirius slumped on the ground beside her quietly snoring, and Remus standing over Sirius with an expression of distaste.

 

   “Alright, up!” Tonks called, abruptly hitting Sirius on the side – Sirius snorted, then jerked up into a sitting position and flailed his arms defensively; Remus grabbed his hands to stop him from hitting Tonks in the head. “Time for warm-ups, kids.”

 

 Harry groaned. Tonks seemed much too cheery for this time of the morning. The warm-ups and following exercises lasted until just after seven, when Tonks let them have a break for water and breath. The clock struck 7:15, and Tonks called their attention.

 

   “While I was in America, the Aurors from MACAUSA taught us Brits some of their fighting techniques,” she said. “Now, don’t tell Moody that I’m teaching it to you, because these are pretty much guerrilla tactics compared to the kind of stuff we do over here.”

 

   “What is it?” Harry asked.

 

 Tonks waved him over. “Stand over here, Ginny, you too.”

 

 Harry glanced at Ginny, then got up and moved over to where Tonks was. She positioned them side by side then took a few paces away from them.

 

   “This is for facing more than one opponent,” she said, drawing her wand. “Say you’re in a situation like this, you’re being attacked by more than one person.” Tonks gave a wave of her hand, and the dueling circle became a street; the Room added asphalt road and street lamps and cars as well. “This can be done with any object, a car, a stand, anything.”

 

   “Erm, what are you going to do?” Harry asked her.

 

 Tonks jabbed her wand at the car sitting next to her. In an instant, the car lifted itself onto its rear wheels, began deconstructing itself, and within seconds was not even a car anymore; rather a tall humanoid figure towered over them, standing stock still.

 

   “You can enchant yourself a little golem,” Tonks said, quite pleased with herself.

 

   “Little!?” Harry squeaked. He cleared his throat. “I mean, little?”

 

   “Yup. Alright, Bumblebee, stand at attention!”

 

 The car-golem-giant-thing snapped its metal arms to its side and nodded. Tonks pointed her wand at another car, and the golem immediately smashed it.

 

   “Erm, aren’t golems a bit – I dunno – out there?” Ginny asked. “Like, dark kind of out there?”

 

   “Yeah, that’s why they don’t teach you how to make them over here,” Tonks said. “Traditionally, golems are used by dark wizards, but the magic involved in making one isn’t dark at all.” Tonks waved her wand again, and the car-golem collapsed into pieces. “Golems are wicked useful, especially when you’re on your own, but they take quite a bit out of you so you only want to use them as a last resort.” Tonks snapped her fingers, and the Room turned the street back into the dueling circle, now covered with large square pillows. “Oh, didn’t even realize I needed one,” she muttered, dropping onto a pillow. “Get over here, you two.”

 

 Harry shrugged, then snatched a pillow and plopped onto it, only to be shoved across it when Ginny joined him. Sirius and Remus followed suit, the both of them looking just as eager as Harry felt to learn.

 

   “Before I can tell you how to turn a car into a golem, you got to know what one is,” she said. “Now, the Americans didn’t have much time to teach me, so they just dropped the instructions in my brain via Legilimency, but that’s not necessary here.”

 

   “Are we going to have story time or something?” Harry asked.

 

 Tonks gave him a look of unamusement. “Yes, Harry, that’s exactly what’s about to happen.”

 

   “Sorry.”

 

   “Thank you. Right, so golems were first made by Hebrew wizards, best historians can figure, as simple guardians. That’s their only purpose, to protect and serve their creator. A proper golem is made out of clay, but you can use just about anything to form one in a pinch; clay ones just seem to last longer.” As she was speaking, Tonks conjured a small figure out of brown clay, which she picked up and held out before them. “The magic used to animate golems is simple, but it’s the charms that turn into a guardian that’s tough. Used to be you had to write up the spell the old fashioned way, on a scroll or sommat, and stick it inside the golem’s mouth; that bound it to you and made it your guardian.” Tonks gave a sudden grin. “‘Course, we wizards are inherently lazy, and writing up one time use only spells on scrolls got old quick.”

 

   “Wait, hold on,” Harry interrupted, “what do you mean, old fashioned way?”

 

 Tonks threw her head back and groaned. “God, I know Binns is boring, but could you pay the tiniest bit of attention when he talks about ancient ways of doing magic?”  


   “Erm, he hasn’t?”

 

 Tonks rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I don’t have time to go deep into magical theory and history with you; wizards used to write out all their spells, back in the heyday of runes, but we moved on to wands, savvy?”

 

   “I guess?”

 

   “Good, now shut up.”

 

 Sirius sniggered. Tonks looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “I will kick you out, Sirius.”

 

   “Sorry, Dora.”

 

 Tonks huffed. “Anyway, as I was saying, wizards are lazy, we got tired of having to write it up even after we moved onto wands, so the charm was changed into a verbal one about two or three hundred years ago.”  


 Tonks tapped the little clay figure with her wand. “ _Piertotem Locomotor._ ”

 

 The clay figure lifted its head, looked around, then sat down. Tonks nodded. “That’s the spell to animate it, simple, yeah?”

 

 Four more clay figures appeared before each of them. Tonks raised her eyebrows. “Go on,” she urged.

 

 Harry quickly took out his wand; he cleared his throat and pointed the wand at the unmoving clay figure. As he spoke the incantation, so did Sirius, Remus, and Ginny. Only Ginny’s moved. It fell over.

 

 Tonks stifled a laugh. “Try again,” she urged.

 

   “ _Piertotem Locomotor!_ ”

 

 Ginny’s clay figure picked itself up off the floor, then seated itself in front of Tonks’s. Harry’s did a strange sort of wiggle, then collapsed in half, while Sirius and Remus’s remained still. The three boys tried again; this time, Harry’s clay figure picked itself up and joined Tonks’s and Ginny’s, as did Remus’s. Sirius tried a fourth time, finally succeeding in getting it to move.

 

   “Good!” Tonks clapped her hands. “The spell to animate doesn’t do much than get it to start moving, now you have to give it instructions and specifically get it to fight.”

 

 Tonks touched her wand to her clay figure. “While I was across the pond, I saw one man use the animation spell and then instantly command the golem to fight, so apparently, this next spell can be made unnecessary over time or with a fat load of skill. _Nunc Militus Defendere!_ ”

 

 The little clay figure jumped up and started bashing in the head of Harry’s clay figure, which just sat there and took the beating.

 

   “Hey!” Harry protested.

 

   “Well, give it a try and have it defend itself,” Tonks said, sitting back on the pillow.

 

 Harry scowled slightly, then jabbed his wand at the clay figure. “ _Nunc Militus Defendere!_ ”

 

 And, of course, nothing happened. The tiny golem stayed still while Tonks’s mini attacker continued its assault.

 

 Tonks waved her wand, “ _Nunc Militus Reliqua._ ” The clay golem stepped back, waiting. Tonks leaned forward on her pillow, looking down at the little golems. “Maybe we should start the old fashioned way,” she murmured.

 

   “Regardless of which way we start, our time is up,” Remus said abruptly. “These two must get ready for the day ahead and get to breakfast. You, young lady, have an appointment at St. Mungo’s.”

 

 Tonks groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me.”  


   “Why? Is something wrong?” Harry asked.

 

 Tonks quickly shook her head. “No, no, nothing’s wrong, it’s just a check-up. Erm, required, y’know, since I just got back from another country.”

 

 Remus gave a nod. “You two better head back to your rooms.”  


   “Take your golems with you, try and practice those spells on them, see if you can get them to work,” Tonks told them, pushing herself up off the pillow. “See you.”

 

 Ginny grabbed the two clay figures and Harry took his. They said their goodbyes and took the Floo back up to their rooms. Ginny put her golem on the coffee table, where it lay down and folded its arms over its chest.

 

   “Look, it looks just like its mum,” Harry said, setting down his golem. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, which made him laugh. “I’m gonna get a quick shower, I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

   “Okay,” Ginny answered. “I’m going to keep reading _The Shining_ while you’re in there then.”

 

 Harry scowled. “But it’s getting to the scary parts!”  


 Ginny gave him a mocking smile and a kiss, then went to fetch her book. Harry grumbled to himself as he grabbed fresh robes and locked himself in the bathroom. He shut the mental passage between them, hoping that Ginny’s reading wouldn’t penetrate it.

 

 Harry undressed and turned the water on, moving autonomously as his thoughts drifted. Last night, he hadn’t had much time to process in the moment what was happening, but in retrospect, he wished he had ignored Mrs. Vance’s orders completely. He wished he had tried to talk to his parents, more than just asking questions. He wished he could have had ages to talk with them. He wished they weren’t dead.

 

 But nothing could change that, and he knew it. He had been fine without them for as long as he could remember; he had Sirius and Remus, Ginny’s parents, even Hagrid. Knowing that his parents were somewhere, waiting for him, was enough for him then.

 

 Harry got out and dressed, taking time to dry his hair with his wand. He found Ginny curled up in the sitting room, poking the clay golems with her wand, little good it was doing. He set a hand on her shoulder, making her look up.

 

  “Breakfast?” he asked.

 

 Ginny nodded, standing up. They grabbed their school bags and left their quarters, as they did, the clock struck seven. In the common room, they passed Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Ron all talking about something, though Ginny commented that arguing seemed a better verb to describe them.

 

   “What’s up with you lot?” Harry asked.

 

   “There is absolutely no way that a _football game_ could have been more enjoyable than the Quidditch World Cup,” Ron said.

 

   “You weren’t there!” Dean protested. “Shay, you were, back me up.”

 

   “I’m not touching this with a ten-foot pole,” Seamus laughed.

 

   “Because you agree with me, right?” Ron asked.

 

   “What part of not touching this with a ten-foot pole doesn’t get through your skull?” Seamus asked Ron, rapping against Ron’s forehead with his knuckles to prove the point. Ron batted his hand away, scowling.

 

   “What’s going on?” Harry asked.

 

   “Dean says that the best sporting event he’s ever been to was this football game earlier this summer,” Neville told them in a low voice. “Ron says he can’t think that because Seamus took him to the Cup last year. Seamus isn’t touching the conversation with a ten-foot pole because he had a better time at the football game with Dean than at the Cup.”

 

   “Really?” Ginny asked.

 

   “I think that the whole Death Eater attack may have affected Seamus’s enjoyment of the World Cup,” Neville reminded her.

 

   “Oh, true, true,” she said.

 

 Neville glanced back at them. “Personally, I don’t see why either of the two events were that entertaining.”

 

 Ginny and Harry looked at him with deep offence. “Don’t say you’re not a fan of Quidditch,” Harry begged.

 

 Neville shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that I’m not a fan, but it wouldn’t be the first thing I’d do on my day off.”

 

 Harry sighed. “I give up. You and Dean are strange.”  


   “See, Harry agrees with me!”

 

   “That doesn’t mean anything, he plays Quidditch!”

 

   “Are you lot going to stand there bickering until classes start or are you going to breakfast?” Ginny asked them.

 

 Dean and Ron stopped arguing. Ron turned pink, Dean shrugged. “I’m waiting for Hermione,” Ron said.

 

   “Really?” Seamus asked. “You two are still a thing?”

 

 Ron gave him a dark look. “Yeah, we’re still a thing. You’d better not have been planning on making moves on her when you’ve finished with Mary Perkins or whoever you last were dating.”

 

   “Nah, mate, that would break the code,” Seamus said, clapping a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “And Mary and I went separate ways.”  


   “Did you?” Neville asked with very little surprise.

 

   “Yeah, wasn’t the one for me,” Seamus said, glancing over at Dean. Then he looked back at Ron and said: “You wait for Hermione, Ron, we’ll go ahead.” He grabbed Dean’s arm, adding to the other three in a softer but carrying tone: “Come on, let’s get out of here while we can.” Ron rolled his eyes while they laughed.

 

   “So, did you really enjoy that football game Dean was talking about more than the Quidditch World Cup?” Harry asked Seamus as they left.

 

 Seamus gave a shrug. “I mean, there were no madmen in masks in the middle of the celebrations.”

 

  “Told you,” Neville said.

 

  “Really?” Dean asked.

 

  “Well, yeah,” Seamus said. “No madmen in masks, can’t top that.”

 

 Dean glanced at Seamus, then shrugged. Ginny looked between them, then shook her head with a smile.

 

   “It’s a fair point,” she said.

 

 Seamus laughed. “Says the seeker’s wife. Don’t let Ron know.”

 

   “’Course not, why would I?”

 

 Seamus chuckled again, throwing an arm around Ginny and giving her a side-hug. “You’re like the baby sister I never had, y’know?”

 

   “Aw, I’m touched,” Ginny laughed.

 

   “Yeah, long-lost sister or not, hands off my wife,” Harry quipped jokingly.

 

   “Hey, whatdya say we ditch him and forget I said you were like my sister?” Seamus asked in an equally joking tone. Dean rolled his eyes while Harry pretended to gasp.

 

   “Well, I would say yes, but my husband can hear me,” Ginny said dryly, grinning still. Seamus chuckled, dropping his arm from her shoulders.

 

   “I feel betrayed, Gin,” Harry said. “How dare you?” he added, picking at a spot on his finger.

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes, elbowing him. “You know I love you, you idiot.”  


 Harry rolled his eyes right back at her. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

 

   “The two of you are both relationship goals and an example of what not to do,” Dean said, shaking his head. “And I don’t understand how you do it.”

 

 Ginny glanced at Harry with a smirk. “Y’know, me neither.”

 

 Harry grinned. “Maybe we’re soulmates or something.”  


 Seamus snorted. “Now there’s a fairytale I haven’t heard in a while.”

 

 They reached the Great Hall and found seats near the middle, Neville and Harry spacing themselves so that Ron and Hermione could join them when they entered the hall. Harry started to serve himself eggs and bacon, just as the owls started to fill the hall.

 

   “Oh, Hermione’s post is here,” Ginny said.

 

   “She’s not here yet, though,” Harry murmured, looking up; there was, indeed, a large barn owl circling over them, holding a newspaper tightly in its talons.

 

  “Get it for her, she can pay you back when she gets here,” Ginny said, pouring herself pumpkin juice.

 

  “Here, boy,” Harry called to the owl. “I’ll pay you.”

 

 The owl flapped its wings twice, then slowly descended and landed on the table in front of him. Harry pulled a Knut from his pocket and dropped it into the owl’s collection pouch, then took the rolled-up scroll from the table while the owl took off again. Harry glanced at it, then went to put it aside, but jerked his gaze back to the paper. His mouth dropped open, staring down at the headline clearly displayed despite the paper being rolled up tightly.

 

  _What?_ Ginny thought, glancing over. “What?” she gasped.

 

 Harry ripped the twine off and unrolled the paper. _“Potter Planning A Wedding,”_ he murmured. “What the fuck,” he added in a louder voice.

 

   “Whoa, mate, what’s wrong?” Seamus asked.

 

 Harry flipped the paper around to show him and Dean. “Look at this!”  


 Seamus shrugged. “You’re planning a wedding, so?”

 

 Harry didn’t understand why Seamus didn’t understand that he was fuming. “So? So! So, this is my private life! Spread across the front page of the _Prophet_!”

 

 Seamus gave a wince then went back to his eggs. “Fair point, mate.”

 

 Harry glanced over the article. “How the fuck did they get a picture of your wedding dress?” he burst out.

 

 Ginny leaned in. “I’m not in the picture,” she said. “That’s some small consolation.”

 

   “But how? Why? Who?”

 

   “I don’t know, love,” Ginny sighed. “This was bound to happen, you know that. The papers had a field day back in August when we found – got,” she corrected herself, “our marriage license, remember?”

 

   “Why can’t they just leave us alone?” Harry growled through gritted teeth. He balled up the paper and threw it aside, already feeling nauseated that all of the school would know that he and Ginny would be having a wedding by lunchtime.

 

 Ginny took his hand and squeezed it. “Because you’re the Boy Who Lived, Harry.”

 

   “What’s happened now, then?” asked Ron, having finally shown up.

 

 Harry jerked a thumb to the balled-up newspaper. “I got your copy of the _Prophet_ , Hermione.”

 

   “I see that,” Hermione replied, picking it up. “Is there a reason it’s crumpled up?”

 

   “Yeah,” Harry growled. Hermione frowned, unfolding the paper.

 

   “What!” she gasped. “Ron, look at this!”

 

   “Wow,” Ron murmured. “Mate, you’ve got a problem.”  


   “I know,” Harry grunted.

 

  _Eat your bacon, Harry,_ Ginny thought. _There’s nothing you can do about it, don’t stress about it, okay?_

 

   “It doesn’t say who tipped off the papers,” Hermione said. “At least the date isn’t leaked either.”

 

   “What is?” Harry asked.

 

   “Just where you were shopping,” Hermione said. “Mostly it’s guesses as to why you’re having a wedding now all of a sudden, and when it will be.”

 

   “Ugh,” Harry said.

 

   “Indeed,” Hermione sighed. She ripped off the front page, balled it up, then tapped it with her wand and set it aflame. “You can complain to the editor.”

 

   “Hey, you’re right, I can,” Harry said. “Yeah, I’ll write a letter later.” Harry glanced at Ginny, then at the ashes remaining of the article. “Gin, would you agree no more outsiders involved in our wedding?”

 

   “Yep,” Ginny said. “Except we need a photographer and a musician.”

 

 Harry sat up in his seat, looking around. He spotted a mop of yellow blonde hair not far from them, talking with several other fourth years. “Oi, Creevey!”

 

 Colin Creevey looked up, startled. “Huh?”

 

   “C’mere!” Harry waved at him. Colin glanced around, then got up and moved towards them.

 

   “Hi, erm, what’s up?” Colin said with an awkward smile.

 

   “Could you take pictures at a wedding?” Harry asked.

 

 Colin blinked at him. “Erm, I suppose,” he said.

 

   “Would you take pictures at our wedding? Over Christmas break?” Harry asked more specifically, pointing to himself and Ginny.

 

 Colin flushed. “Oh. Erm. Yeah, yeah, I could.”

 

   “Great, we’ll pay you the going rate for wedding photographers, is that alright?”  


 Colin perked up slightly. “Hell, yeah, it’s alright! I mean – yeah, yeah, that’s good.”

 

   “Wicked, Colin, thanks.”  


   “No problem,” Colin said, nodding. He was still pink in the face. “No problem.”

 

 Colin walked away. Harry looked at Ginny, who looked back at him with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow.

 

   “What?” he asked.

 

   “Nothing,” she sighed. “We still need a musician.”

 

 Harry shrugged. “Ask the twins or something.”

 

 Ginny sighed again, this time with less exasperation. “We’ll figure something out, okay?”

 

   “Uh-oh, gnat alert,” Dean said abruptly.

 

   “Hey, Weasley!” came the greasy, angered voice of Draco Malfoy.

 

   “Will you just fuck off?!” Harry snapped. “And her name’s Potter!”

 

 Malfoy sneered at them. “How’d you afford that gown, Weasley? Did you stock up your profit from selling yourself?”

 

   “She’s not a whore!” Harry spat at him. “You get out of here, before I hex you!”

 

 Malfoy’s sneer turned into a scowl. “Sometimes I wonder why she bothered so hard to land you, Potter,” he said coolly. “You’re definitely not as much of a hero as the papers make you out to be.”

 

   “I’m warning you,” Harry growled. “Leave us alone!”

 

   “Or you’ll do what?” Malfoy spat. “Turn me in to a teacher?”

 

   “One of these days I’m going to put you into the Hospital Wing,” Harry threatened.

 

   “Harry, that’s enough!” Ginny snapped. He hadn’t even realized that he had risen from his seat, but she jerked him back down into it. “He’s deliberately provoking you to get you in trouble, stop playing into his schemes.”  


   “Oh, I’m not trying to get him into trouble,” Malfoy said in a sharp sneer. “I’m just trying to make him feel like an absolute fool for getting himself stuck with you.”

 

 Harry whipped out his wand and leaped off the bench. “I am sick of your incessant, slanderous, foul attitude towards my wife,” he spat, “and I will not tolerate it one second more. You stay away from us, or else I’ll make you regret it!”

 

 Malfoy slowly looked down at the wand tip that was pressed into his chest, then back up at Harry. “There’s nothing more you can do to me,” he hissed, then turned on his heel and walked straight into Colin Creevey.

 

   “Out of my way, fool,” Malfoy spat at him, shoving him aside. Harry glared after Malfoy, his wand still raised.

 

   “Harry Potter.”

 

 Harry bit back a groan and shoved his wand away quickly as he turned around. “Yes, professor?”

 

 Professor McGonagall glared at him. “Did I just overhear you threatening another student?”

 

   “You did, professor.”

 

   “Follow me, please, Mr. Potter.”

 

 Harry glanced towards Ginny. She looked almost as pissed as McGonagall. _Malfoy’s plan worked_ , she thought. _I’ll see you in class._

 

 Harry hung his head and followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall. He was silent as she led him up the stairs to her office, silent as she shut the door, silent as she told him to take a seat.

 

 Professor McGonagall dropped into her chair behind her desk and folded her hands to look at him over the top of her spectacles. “I understand that Mr. Malfoy has been aggressive in his targeting of yourself and Mrs. Potter since your return to school.”

 

   “That’s putting it mildly,” Harry said.

 

 McGonagall did not smile. “I have had several talks with Professor Snape about his behavior, however it seems evident that whatever punishment he is receiving from Professor Snape is not cutting it.”

 

 Harry looked up from his lap. “You’re – you’re not talking to me to punish me?”

 

   “Oh, rest assured you will receive detention,” McGonagall promised. “However, Mr. Malfoy’s behavior is just as inexcusable as your own.”

 

   “But he –”

 

   “Mr. Potter, I would advise you to follow your wife’s lead in this situation,” McGonagall snapped. “She has been relatively cool-headed about this from the beginning and has not once let one of Malfoy’s outbursts trigger her into equal aggression. Your responses to Mr. Malfoy’s talk is what fuels him to continue antagonizing you and your wife, so if you truly wish him to stop you must not let him provoke you. Do I make myself clear?”

 

 Harry gritted his teeth. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

 

   “You will serve your detention tonight at 6 o’clock, Mr. Potter,” she said. “As for Mr. Malfoy, he will be receiving detentions from me each week for the next month. I trust that this will be acceptable to you and that you will cease responding to his outbursts.”

 

  _Weekly detentions will do, Harry._

 

 He didn’t question Ginny further. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, nodding as he did. McGonagall echoed his movement, her stern gaze softening.

 

   “If his behavior does not improve, I will ask the Headmaster to look into more serious repercussions,” Professor McGonagall promised. “His bullying of your wife will not be allowed any longer.”  


 This made him hopeful, so he agreed with another nod. “Thank you, professor,” he said, rising from his chair.

 

   “You may go now, Potter,” the professor said. “I will see you in class.”  


 Harry murmured a farewell, exiting her office. He took the stairs down to History of Magic, where he found his friends and Ginny sitting in the back of the classroom; Ron and Dean had resumed their argument, now focusing on which was a better sport in general, but in quieter tones. Ginny was sitting in her seat staring stonily at the blackboard. Harry slid into the seat beside her and took out parchment and quill.

 

_Are you mad at me?_

She didn’t answer him. Harry clenched his jaw. _I don’t get it, I defended you! Would you have rather I said nothing?_

_Yes!_

 

 The thought startled him. He looked at her, but she didn’t look back.

 

  _Why?_ Harry asked, now equally as confused as he was upset.

 

_Because then you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble! You played right into Malfoy’s hands!_

_I couldn’t just ignore him –_

_Yes, you can, Harry, I’ve been doing it all year._

 

 Harry looked away, his jaw tightening even more. _I’m sorry if I can’t help wanting to defend you. I’ll just let him get away with calling you a slut next time._

 

 Ginny turned to face him, her eyes steely as she met his gaze. _He’s clearly not getting away with it, and just because he says it doesn’t make it true._

_But –_

_One person ceasing to say it will not change the minds of the rest of the school, Harry; we both know that everyone who’s read the Prophet thinks I conned you into this and it does not matter._

_How can you be so calm about this? It’s outrageous!_  
  


Ginny, astonishingly, rolled her eyes at him. _Clearly it isn’t; the rest of the world doesn’t know we’re bonded, so they had to come up with some explanation for us getting married. It made the most sense and sold the most papers that I’m cunning and tricked you somehow._

_It doesn’t make sense –_

_To them it does! I’m from a socially-low-class family with no money, you’re a hero, heir to a multi-million galleon fortune, without the information that we’re bonded, our marriage doesn’t make sense._

 

 Harry gaped at her. _Seriously? You want to see it from their perspective?_

 

 She turned away. _It’s better than thinking they all just hate me._

 

 Harry looked down at his desk. Ginny’s calm demeanor about the situation didn’t make sense to him.

 

  _I would appreciate it if you would stop responding with aggression every time someone makes slights against me. They’re not going to stop, and I’m tired of it._

_Ginny, I can’t just sit by –_

_Yes, you can, and you will, because no matter what anyone says, no one can break up our marriage and I’m sick of you getting in trouble because you think you’re defending me._

_I am defending you!_  
  


_No, you’re yelling at people and waving your wand around like a fool. It clearly is not effective, and I am sick of it._

 

 Harry shot her a glare. _I don’t get it. One minute you’re mad that I’m not paying attention to what people are saying, now you want me to ignore them?_

 

 Ginny didn’t answer him. He glanced at her again, then poked her with his quill. She shooed his hand away, dutifully taking notes. He looked up to see that Binns had entered the classroom without him noticing and had begun his lecture. Harry decided he would ask Hermione for her notes later and prodded Ginny again.

 

_Piss off, Harry._

_Y’know, I think I won’t._

_I’m trying to take notes._

_Big whoop. Answer my question._

_I’m done with this, Harry._

_Well, guess what, I’m not._

_Too bad for you then._

_Ginny._

 

 She began ignoring him again. Harry glared at her, then made up his mind. He glanced up at Binns, then around his shoulder to make sure that Hermione was really taking notes before sticking his hand under the table and snaking it around Ginny’s waist. He found the hem of her robes and pulled it aside, shoving his hand under her jumper and finding the bare skin of her stomach. Ginny gave a start at the coldness of his fingers, then glared at him.

 

  _What the hell are you doing?_

_Why are you so mad about me defending you?_

_I said we were done with this!_  
  


_No, we’re not, because you’re mad at me and I don’t understand why._

_Maybe if you tried thinking through it instead of shouting angrily about it like an idiot you’d figure it out,_ Ginny snapped, then hit his hand away from her. Harry’s mouth fell open, confused and hurt but most of all confused. Ginny shut up her thoughts, and all he could hear from her now was her notes. He didn’t understand. He figured out that her words pointed more towards his reacting to Malfoy, but what that had to do with why his defending her made her upset he didn’t know. Malfoy deserved a good hex to the balls, just because it got Harry in trouble for it didn’t matter; she shouldn’t be angry about him responding to Malfoy’s words in kind –

 

_Oh._

Ginny kept taking notes. Harry gently slipped his arm around her again and hugged her slightly, then let his hand rest at her hip.

 

_You’re mad because I’m acting like him._

_Gold star, Harry, would you like a reward?_

_Can it be you stopping being pissed at me?_

_If you promise you’ll stop acting like a prick._

_I promise to do my best._

_Good. Now shut up so I can take notes._

 

 Harry shut up. He also began copying her notes because if she wasn’t mad at him anymore there was no point in asking Hermione.

 

 After History of Magic was Defense Against the Dark Arts; the bell rang and Binns let them go. The fifth year Gryffindors filed out of the room and to the stairs. On the fourth floor, however, an irate Professor McGonagall was conjuring bright yellow tape to rope off the corridor.

 

   “Classes in this wing are cancelled for the rest of the day,” Professor McGonagall announced to the waiting hoards of students. “Go to your common rooms until your next class.”

 

   “What happened?” Harry called.

 

 Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by the door to the Transfiguration classroom suddenly bursting open and a sea of bright green slime poured out, the deluge dropping Sirius and Remus onto the floor covered in welts and steaming. Professor McGonagall simply pointed to the sight of the two Defense Professors as if no further explanation was necessary.

 

    “Off you go!” she called. “Robbins, Creevey, you stay put!”

 

 Harry looked around, seeing Colin Creevey and Demelza Robbins standing with extremely guilty expressions in a group of fourth years.

 

   “Nice job,” said Fred Weasley, offering Colin a high five.

 

   “Weasley, do not encourage the boy!” Professor McGonagall snapped.

 

   “Are Professors Black and Lupin alright?” Ginny asked McGonagall.

 

   “They will be,” McGonagall replied curtly. Ginny raised her eyebrows skeptically. McGonagall glanced over her shoulder, then sighed heavily as Remus was trying to quench the fire that had caught on Sirius’s robes and failing miserably; Sirius was shouting loudly in what sounded to Harry like French and what he guessed were curse words. “Lupin, Black! Get to the Hospital wing!”

 

   "Merde! Putain de putain de merde!” Sirius shrieked, now trying to put out the fire in his hair.

 

   “ _Aguamenti Maxima!_ ” Remus shouted, and the entire corridor filled with dark gray storm clouds, which began dousing everything in pounding rain; including the still gathered students and Professor McGonagall.

 

   “By the name of Merlin – get out!” McGonagall screamed at Remus and Sirius.

 

 Sirius, no longer on fire, started to run, slipped on a pile of slime, and fell backwards into Remus. The two of them collapsed onto the floor. McGonagall pressed a shaking hand to her forehead.

 

   “I can escort them out,” Harry offered, feeling rather sorry for her on behalf of his godfathers.

 

   “Please,” McGonagall murmured. Harry ducked under the yellow tape and walked over to Remus and Sirius.

 

   “’Ello, lil’ Prongs,” Sirius grunted. “There’s a wolfman on top of me at the mo’, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t hug you.”

 

   “You’re filthy, I wouldn’t anyway,” Harry quipped. He grabbed Remus’s hand and helped him up, then pulled up Sirius. “By orders of Professor McGonagall, you’re getting out of here.”

 

   “Gladly,” Sirius muttered. “I don’t have a clue what the fu–udge those two fourth years did, but I don’t want to fix their mess any time soon.”

 

   “Neither do I,” Remus sighed. “Which is why I didn’t offer to help Minerva to begin with.”

 

   “What, would you rather I compromise my morals as a gentleman and not help out an old lady?”

 

   “I heard that,” Professor McGonagall snapped.

 

   “I advise you to shut up,” Remus muttered.

 

   “Duly noted,” Sirius hissed back. Harry shook his head at them.

 

   “Mr. Potter, take them to the Hospital Wing if you don’t mind,” McGonagall told him. “And ensure that they do not attempt to return to help me further.”

 

   “Yes, ma’am,” Harry said. “Come on.”

 

   “What are we, children?” Sirius muttered under his breath.

 

   “Evidently,” Remus sighed.

 

 Ginny, wrinkling her nose, followed Harry and his godfathers from the slime soaked corridor to the Hospital wing. “What even happened there?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Haven’t the foggiest,” Sirius said. “One minute, I was showing second years how to perform a Disarming Charm, the next, McGonagall was screaming at me to evacuate the whole wing.”

 

   “A couple of fourth years botched up a transfiguration quite badly it seems,” Remus commented.

 

   “Colin and Demelza,” Ginny told them. “They wouldn’t say what had happened.”

 

   “Well, give your friends a good kick up the arse for me,” said Sirius grumpily, patting his head. “I’m going to have to spend all night re-growing my hair.”

 

   “Will do,” Ginny said dryly.

 

 Upon entering the Hospital Wing, they found Madam Pomfrey tending to several other fourth year students who seemed to have been caught by the slime. She took one look at the two professors and groaned.

 

   “Go on to your beds,” she told them, conjuring Hospital pajamas for them with a wave of her wands. “I trust you don’t need me to remind you how to find them?”

 

   “No, we remember, thank you Madam Pomfrey,” Remus said, taking the pajamas.

 

   “You have your own beds?” Harry asked them.

 

   “Oh, yeah, of course,” Sirius laughed. “I think I carved my name into mine.”

 

   “I sanded it off,” Remus reminded him.

 

   “What did you do that for?” Sirius asked with an affronted expression. Remus just rolled his eyes.

 

   “Should we go?” Harry asked as Sirius and Remus drew curtains around two beds at the end of the hall so they could change.

 

   “If you’d like,” Sirius called, “I don’t imagine there’s much for you to do since our’s is your next class.”

 

   “Nothing at all,” Ginny said, dropping into a chair. Sirius pulled open the curtain, having changed out of his robes and into the trousers, though he was shirtless. His arms and upper torso were covered in angry red welts and burns, as well as various runic tattoos; as he turned around, Harry saw the words _PROPERTY OF MOONY_ written in bold letters across his shoulders. He sniggered.

 

   “She’ll attend to the students first,” Sirius said, wincing as he sat down on the bed. “Damn, these smart.”

 

   “Agreed,” Remus replied, opening his own curtains. Like Sirius, he hadn’t donned the hospital standard shirt and his torso was covered in burns, though on his body, there were no tattoos, rather, several old looking scars covered his back and chest. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand to Sirius.

 

   “Thanks,” murmured Sirius, taking whatever it was and tucking it into the pocket of his trousers. Remus dropped onto the other bed, sighing heavily.

 

   “What did you two do?” Madam Pomfrey asked, having finally bustled over to their beds.

 

   “We took a bath in the pool of slime,” Sirius told her. “Didn’t turn out to be a spa.”

 

   “Clearly,” Madam Pomfrey told them. She handed Remus a jar, saying: “Put this on every affected area of skin, use a thick layer mind you, and stay here until I discharge you.”

 

 She glanced at Harry and Ginny. “What’s the matter with you? I see no burns or smoke.”

 

   “Nothing, we just brought the professors here,” Ginny said.

 

   “Well, you’d better get to your common room,” Madam Pomfrey told them, “I haven’t the patience of mind to allow visitors right now. Shoo.”

 

 She hurried off. Harry looked at his godfathers. “Bye,” he said, waving.

 

   “See you later,” Sirius said, waving a hand gingerly.

 

 He and Ginny left the Hospital Wing, taking the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower. They found Neville, Seamus, and Dean sitting in a corner looking very bored.

 

   “Where are Ron and Hermione?” Ginny asked.

 

   “McGonagall made them stick around to keep people out of the corridor,” Seamus said, “since they’re prefects.”

 

   “Lucky them,” Harry said wryly.

 

 Seamus snorted.

 

   “How are Lupin and Black?” Neville asked.

 

   “Yeah, did Black’s hair catch fire again?” Dean added.

 

   “No, they’re fine,” Harry said. “The slime got them good, but Madam Pomfrey will have them fixed up in a jiffy.”

 

 Neville gave a satisfactory nod. “At least we’ve got no classes until lunch, what with Defense and Transfiguration canceled.”

 

 Harry dropped into a chair. “Yeah, I’ve half a mind to go upstairs and take a nap.”

 

 Ginny dropped onto his lap. “I have half a mind to force you,” she said with a yawn. He patted her shoulder and kissed her forehead out of habit.

 

   “Ugh, the two of you,” Seamus groaned. “You’re horrible sometimes.”

 

   “Why, do we remind you that you do have a heart and that you ought to try harder to have meaningful relationships?” Ginny asked.

 

 Seamus tapped his chin as he considered this. “Nah, you’re just disgustingly affectionate.”

 

 Dean pointedly rolled his eyes. “You’re horrible, Seamus.”  


 Seamus punched Dean lightly on the shoulder. “Ah, but I’m still your best mate, aren’t I?”

 

   “Sure, Shay,” Dean said, rolling his eyes again.

 

 Seamus huffed. “Fine, if that’s your attitude, then Ginny here’s my actual best mate.”

 

 Ginny grinned. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s best mate,” she giggled.

 

   “Oi!” Harry protested. “What about me?”

 

   “Eh,” Seamus said. “You’re a bit high maintenance sometimes, what with all the madmen trying to kill you every other day.”

 

   “He has a fair point,” Ginny said.

 

 Harry scowled. Ginny pecked him on the cheek as she smirked.

 

 With half of their classes cancelled and the common room feeling over-stuffed, Harry suggested that they move up to his and Ginny’s rooms in the upper levels of the Tower.

 

   “Oh, yeah, you’ve never invited us upstairs yet,” Seamus commented, “let’s go!”

 

   “First door on the right!” Harry called as Seamus jumped up and bounded up the stairs. He sighed, then shoved at Ginny gently. “Get off.”

 

   “Rude,” Ginny said, standing up.

 

   “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, getting up as well. “Come on,” he said to Neville and Dean. They found Seamus upstairs waiting for them, standing outside their door.

 

   “It’s locked,” he said, pointing to the door.

 

   “It is?” Ginny said. “We don’t lock it.” She tried the handle and it opened. “See?”

 

   “Must be charmed,” Neville said. “So that only you or Harry can open it.”

 

   “Cool,” Harry said. The door from the girl’s stairs opened abruptly and Head Girl Hollins stepped out followed by her friend Greenley. “Hi,” he said to them, noticing that Greenley was pink in the face and had hastily dropped Hollins’s hand.

 

   “Potter,” Hollins said. “And friends.”

 

   “Erm, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom,” Harry introduced them, pointing to each of them.

 

  “I wasn’t asking,” Hollins muttered, opening her door and ushering Greenley in. Harry huffed.

 

   “She’s like that,” he said. Dean raised an eyebrow.

 

   “I’d say that she was just pissed because we interrupted her and her girlfriend,” Dean said, moving through the doorway, “but that’s none of my business.”

 

 Harry frowned. “What?”

 

 Ginny glanced back at him. “Oh, come on, Harry, you can’t tell me that you did notice that Greenley doesn’t stay in her own dorm anymore?”

 

   “Really?” Harry asked, completely astonished.

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “You are so oblivious.”

 

 Seamus sniggered, glancing at Dean. Ginny looked between them, snorted, and started for the kitchen. “I’m making tea!” she called over her shoulder. Harry looked between his friends, still confused.

 

   “I don’t understand,” he said.

 

 Neville shrugged. “I think it’s like bro telepathy or something.”

 

 Harry laughed at that. “Are you implying that my wife is their bro?”

 

   “Oh, definitely, she’ll probably be the best man at their weddings.”

 

   “I’d like to think they’d pick each other to be best man,” Ginny said from the kitchen. Dean covered his head with his hands while Seamus fell onto the couch laughing.

 

 Harry glanced at Neville, who shrugged. “Hey, speaking of weddings, when are you sending out invitations to yours?” he asked.

 

 Harry gave an echo of Neville’s shrug. “Her mum is taking care of all that, it should be soon, though. It’s going to be on Christmas.”

 

   “Ooh, winter wedding, classy,” Seamus said.

 

   “It was the soonest we could have one,” Harry said, dropping into an armchair. “I mean, we only found out in August.”

 

  “You mean you got married in August,” Dean corrected. “Legally, at least.”

 

   “Uh, yeah, that, right,” Harry said. Neville glanced at him.

 

   “Luna had this weird theory,” Neville said with a laugh, taking a seat himself, “that you were already married.”

 

 Harry’s stomach lurched, but he played it off with a laugh. “What on earth made her think that?”

 

   “I dunno,” Neville said with a shrug. “Something about the two of you being practically soul mates.”

 

 Harry chuckled, looking away. _Ginny, Ginny, holy crap Luna knows._

_Big deal, Luna knows, like, everything._

_Everything? Really?_

_Shut up with your sarcasm._

 

 Ginny returned from the kitchen holding two cups of tea, one of which she handed to Harry before taking up the remaining space in his armchair.

 

   “Do we not get any?” Seamus asked.

 

   “Water’s in there, tea bags and mugs are in the cupboard,” Ginny said, then took a sip of her tea and let out a contented sigh.

 

 Seamus huffed. “Some best mate you are.”

 

 Ginny smiled warmly at him. “I’ll still be up there next to you when you get married.”  


 Seamus rolled his eyes.

 

  _Wait, something was off about that,_ Harry thought.

 

 _Harry, you’re being daft,_ Ginny replied as she took a sip of tea.

 

 He shrugged. _Probably._

 

   “So, when are you going to start holding private parties up here?” Seamus asked.

 

   “Same time I start desiring to hold private parties,” Harry answered.

 

 Seamus snorted. “Fine, but what about your stag night? When you gonna have that?”

 

 Harry shrugged. “Wasn’t really planning on one.”

 

 Seamus gave a dramatic gasp. “Wasn’t planning on having one?” he repeated in a shocked tone of voice. “Dean, Dean, quick, summon a medic, the boy’s touched in the head!”

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Harry said, chucking a pillow at Seamus.

 

   “No, seriously, you have to have a stag night,” Seamus said. “Ginny’s having a hen night!”

 

   “I am?” Ginny said.

 

   “Duh!” Seamus laughed. “I’m already in cahoots with Hermione to plan it!”

 

   “You are?” Dean said. “Is that why the two of you were hiding in a corner last night?”

 

   “Yeah, Ron was there for a bit but I made him leave,” Seamus said. “He can help with Harry’s stag night, but it’s kind of weird for the brother of the bride to help plan the hen night, y’know?”

 

   “Why are you planning my hen night?” Ginny laughed.

 

   “Because I plan the best parties,” Seamus said. “You’re having it the next Hogsmeade weekend.”

 

   “Am I having my stag night at the same time?” Harry asked sarcastically.

 

   “No, you can’t do the same night, because I can’t be in two places at once,” Seamus sighed. “Ideally, you would, but we’ve got to figure out a different night for you.”

 

   “Lovely,” Ginny said, sipping her tea. “Harry can join the hen night.”

 

   “No!” Seamus protested. “That’s against the whole point of a hen night!”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Harry and I are joined at the hip,” she told him.

 

   “Yeah, yeah, you can stand to be away from each other for a few hours,” Seamus said with a wave of his hand. Ginny glanced at Harry, who snorted. “What?” Seamus said.

 

  _Do we tell them or not?_

_Not?_

_It would be easier to convince him not to separate us too long for a hen night._

_Why not._

   “Actually, we can’t,” Ginny said. “It’s kind of why we got married.”  


 Seamus frowned. “Pardon?”

 

   “It’s all long and complicated, but we can’t actually stay away from each other longer than a few hours,” Ginny said.

 

   “Seriously?” Seamus said. “You’re not kidding?”

 

   “Seriously,” Harry said. “Remember that night last term when I randomly stopped being able to breathe?”

 

   “You had a bout of claustrophobia,” Dean said. “Like panic attack kind of claustrophobia, yeah.”  


 Harry jerked his head towards Ginny. “It had been about eight hours since I’d last seen her. By the end of term, we started breaking down at five hours.”

 

   “Holy shit,” Seamus muttered. “Are you serious?”

 

   “Yeah,” Ginny said. “He gets claustrophobic, I start hearing voices, it’s a whole mess. So, literally, we can’t stay away from each other for long.”

 

Seamus blinked. He glanced at Dean, who was gaping at them, then at Neville, who was just as stunned, then flopped back on the sofa. “Holy shit,” he repeated.

 

 Ginny took a sip of her tea. “Yep.”  


   “You know why?” Dean asked.

 

   “Yeah, but it’s a long story,” Harry said.

 

   “Like how long?” Seamus said.

 

   “Too long,” Ginny told them.

 

 Seamus let out a long _huh._ “Hermione and I will have to change a few details about your hen night,” he muttered.

 

   “I’m almost afraid to ask, but like what?” Ginny asked him.

 

   “Erm, well, for starters, it was going to last from dusk to dawn, but that seems to be out the window.”  


 Ginny laughed. “It can be that long as long as Harry’s there.”

 

 Seamus waved a hand. “We’ll figure something out. Hey, did Hermione already know that?”

 

   “What, the five hour thing? Yeah.”

 

   “That’s why she kept saying it couldn’t be that long then,” Seamus said. “Good maid of honor you got there, Gin.”

 

   “He’s actually jealous that you didn’t pick him,” Dean admitted.

 

   “No, I’m not!” Seamus protested.

 

 Dean gave a nod. “Had his dress picked out and everything.”

 

  “Shut up!” Seamus laughed, grabbing a pillow and hitting Dean over the head with it. “You’re a big fat liar and you know it, Dean Thomas!”

 

 Dean stuck his tongue out at Seamus and grabbed the pillow. “Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, Shay.”

 

   “Your mum helps me sleep at night!” Seamus said, shaking his fist.

 

   “Really, ‘your mum’ jokes? How original,” Ginny said with an eyeroll.

 

   “What would you suggest,” Seamus asked her sarcastically.

 

   “Not something used commonly by twelve-year-olds, that’s for sure,” Ginny quipped.

 

   “You lot are unbelievable,” Neville sighed.

 

   “Your mum is unbelievable!” Seamus said.

 

 Neville smiled weakly. “She is, actually, she’s been in the psych ward of St. Mungo’s for the past fourteen years.”

 

 Seamus dropped the pillow. “Merlin’s pants, mate, I’m sorry.”

 

   “You didn’t know, it’s fine,” Neville said.

 

   “I’m not going to make a ‘your mum’ joke again,” Seamus promised.

 

   “Good plan,” Harry said.

 

 There was a sudden knock at the door and they all looked towards it. Harry glanced at Ginny, who raised her eyebrows, then sighed and got up to answer it.

 

   “Hi, Ron, Hermione,” Harry said, letting them in.

 

   “You lot been up here the past hour?” Ron asked. “Budge up,” he added to Dean and Seamus before dropping down in the middle of the couch.

 

   “Pretty much,” Harry said. “Hermione, have you been secretly planning Ginny’s hen night with Seamus?”

 

   “Yes,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “It’s going to be in December and we’re having it here because Seamus apparently has to be there and he can’t get into the girls’ dorms.”

 

   “Not for lack of trying,” Seamus promised.

 

   “Thanks, Hermione,” Ginny said. “Ron, take a leaf out of her book and start planning Harry’s.”

 

   “Alright, it’s the same night,” Ron said.

 

   “Nope, already discussed that,” Seamus said. “Keep up.”

 

   “Fine, it’s the night after,” Ron said. “Or whenever Seamus decides it’s going to be because apparently, he’s a party planner extraordinaire.”

 

   “Thanks, Ron,” Harry said, taking his seat again. Neville got up and offered his chair to Hermione, who shook her head and squeezed in between Dean and Ron.

 

   “This is a two-person couch!” Seamus protested.

 

   “It’s a three-person couch,” Harry said. “There are three cushions.”

 

   “There are still more than three people on it,” Seamus protested.

 

 Hermione leaned across Ron and stuck her tongue out at Seamus, who huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Dean rolled his eyes.

 

 They stayed in their sitting room for another hour, until the bell could be heard ringing in the distance to signal the end of the period and the start of lunch, which was when they left and joined the throng headed for the Great hall and food. After lunch they separated for Divination and Arithmancy, then the boys had another free period while Ginny and Hermione went to Ancient Runes. After classes, they gathered in the library to do homework until dinner.

_I have detention tonight,_ Harry thought with a groan later that night.

 

 _And it’s no one’s fault but your own,_ Ginny replied.

 

  _Not helpful, Gin._

_Oh, I wasn’t trying to be._

 

 Harry huffed. Seamus offered him a glass of water.

 

 At about five thirty, Harry left the Great Hall for Professor McGonagall’s office. He got there with plenty of time to spare, in fact, the professor was not there, so he sat down outside her door and leaned his head against the wall.

 

 _It’s cold,_ he thought. _I should’ve brought my cloak._

_Probably._

_Thanks for being so helpful, Gin._

_You’re welcome, dear._

   “Mr. Potter.”

 

 Harry got up at the sound of his name to see Professor McGonagall striding towards him, followed by –

 

  _What the f –_

_Harry, I’m starting to get concerned by how much you’re swearing._

_What is Malfoy doing here???_

 

 Professor McGonagall opened her office with a wave of her wand, then gestured for Harry and a surly looking Malfoy to go inside. Harry shot him an angry look, then moved into the office.

 

   “Sit,” Professor McGonagall said.

 

 Harry sat. Malfoy did not. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Malfoy, pursing her lips until he took a chair. Harry’s Head of House gave a nod, then stepped back outside the office. A moment later, she reentered, followed by Demelza Robbins and Colin Creevey.

 

   “The four of you shall be serving your detentions tonight with Mr. Filch,” Professor McGonagall said, taking her chair behind her desk. “He shall be here in a moment to fetch you.”  


   “Professor,” Harry asked.

 

   “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

 

   “If you don’t mind me asking, why is he here?” Harry jerked his head towards Malfoy. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

 

   “Because I dislike having to organize multiple separate detentions on the same night,” she said. “And if the two of you cannot be civil to each other, you will serve detention together again next week.” Malfoy opened his mouth, his face outraged, but Professor McGonagall went on: “Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

 

 Harry clenched his jaw and nodded. Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the floor. Professor McGonagall gave a nod.

 

 There was a knock at the door and they all turned to look; Filch was standing outside, Mrs. Norris at his feet as always.

 

   “Thank you, Mr. Filch,” McGonagall said. “You may take them.”  


 Filch raised a hand and waved them towards him. “Come on, then,” he said in his low, gravelly growl. Harry reluctantly rose from his seat and followed the other three students from Professor McGonagall’s office. Demelza Robbins and Colin Creevey quickly let Malfoy go past them, then met Harry’s eyes with raised eyebrows.

 

   “What did you do?” Colin asked in a whisper.

 

   “I told Malfoy I’d put him in the Hospital Wing if he didn’t shut up about Ginny,” he answered simply. Demelza raised her eyebrows even further and snorted.

 

   “At least he’s a good husband,” she muttered to Colin, who elbowed her in the ribs. Harry didn’t know what to say; he knew the two fourth years were good friends with Ginny, but he’d never really spoken to them before, at least not to Demelza. They fell behind him as well, talking in low tones between the two of them. Harry glared at Malfoy’s back as they followed Filch from McGonagall’s office to the very same corridor that Colin and Demelza had covered in slime a few hours before.

 

 Filch opened a broom closet and pulled out a cart of cleaning supplies. “Alright, you lot,” he grunted. “You’re to clean up this mess you made.”  


   “I had nothing to do with that disaster,” Malfoy protested.

 

   “Shut it,” Filch snapped, and he shoved a mop into Malfoy’s arms. “No magic. I’ll be back at 9 o’clock, and if it’s not done, you’ll get to keep working until it is.”

 

 With that, Filch left. Malfoy turned around and scowled at Colin and Demelza. “This is your fault,” he hissed.

 

  “Actually, Malfoy, I think you’re the one to blame for your own detention,” Harry said, grabbing a mop himself. He could handle one slime-soaked corridor, he thought, but if Malfoy would be making snide remarks the rest of the night, he’d have a much harder time handling his temper.

 

_You’d better handle your temper, unless you want to have more detentions with Malfoy._

_Yeah, yeah, I know, Ginny._

 

   “What exactly did you do?” Harry asked the two fourth years. Demelza gave a shrug.

 

   “I blame her,” Colin said immediately.

 

   “Hey!”

 

   “Never mind,” Harry sighed. He grabbed a bucket and dropped the mop into it; it filled with soapy water automatically. “Just start mopping.”

 

   “Why don’t they just get the house elves to clean up this mess?” Malfoy complained loudly.

 

   “Because they’ve got fools like us to do it,” Harry snapped.

 

   “I wasn’t asking _you_ , Potter.”

 

   “Really? Were you just talking to yourself, then?”

 

   “I was talking to the two idiots who made the mess,” Malfoy said with a sneer. Harry rolled his eyes, turning away.

 

   “Me?” he heard Colin squeak. Harry glanced back over his shoulder, wondering if he would have to defend Colin from Malfoy too.

 

 Malfoy gave him a look of disgust. “Clearly,” he said. “You never said what it was that you did.”  


   “It was an accident,” Colin said quickly. “Demelza startled me and I said the incantation wrong!”

 

   “He was trying to transfigure a cup into a toad,” Demelza added. “And all I did was pop up behind you and say _boo_ , it’s not my fault you’re a little baby.”

 

 Colin turned bright pink. “Shut up,” he muttered. Malfoy muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like an insult. Harry shook his head and tried to scrap a bit of dried slime up with his shoe.

 

 Harry didn’t talk, nor did Malfoy, but Colin and Demelza kept up a conversation between the two of them for the entire time. After a few minutes of Malfoy silently shooting Harry daggers with his eyes, Harry grabbed his bucket and moved to the opposite end of the corridor to work. Malfoy didn’t follow him. Harry checked his watch what felt like every hour, but by the ticking hands was closer to every five minutes. The work was slow and dull, and not even Ginny doing homework across his mind could help. Colin and Demelza were annoyingly cheerful, as if the detention was just an afternoon out on the town for them. An hour into the detention, Harry had cleaned about an eighth of the corridor, while at the opposite end, Malfoy, Demelza, and Colin had done just as much.

 

  “What the hell!”  


 Harry glanced up at Malfoy’s sudden shout; he saw Colin looking absolutely mortified and Malfoy standing in the middle of the corridor looking down at his robes. He decided to ignore them, but then Ginny switched from working on her History of Magic homework to reading _The Shining_ again, and Harry felt more like eavesdropping.

 

   “Sorry, sorry, it’s just water –”

 

   “It’s slime juice is what it is, get off me!”

 

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident –”

 

   “You seem to cause a lot of accidents, idiot.”  


   “Hey, leave him alone, you kicked the bucket!”

 

   “Heh, kicked the bucket.”

 

   “Colin, shut up.”

 

  _Ooh, so that’s where “come play with us” came from…_

 

 Harry stabbed the ground with the mop and caused a horrible squelching noise that made him wince.

 

   “Just leave me alone, the both of you.”

 

   “I’m just trying to help you.”  


   “I don’t want your help, you – you fool.”

 

   “Wow, rude much, Malfoy?”  


   “Shut up, Robbins!”

 

 Harry glanced over at them; Colin was visibly blushing and Demelza looked like she was about to punch Malfoy in the face. Harry half hoped she would. Malfoy had taken out his wand and looked to be drying his robes with it.

 

   “Didn’t Filch say no magic?” Colin said.

 

 Malfoy abruptly dropped his mop to wave his middle finger at Colin. “Filch can go shove this mop up his arse for all I care,” he said, grabbing the mop again. “Now, piss off.”

 

   “Funny how that doesn’t ever work,” Harry called.

 

 Malfoy showed Harry his middle finger as well. “I don’t give a damn, Potter,” he spat.

 

 Harry snorted. “Clearly.”

 

 Malfoy scowled and angrily began mopping again, muttering under his breath something Harry couldn’t hear. He went back to scrubbing the floor; there was a particularly stubborn patch of slime right in the middle of the corridor that refused to loosen its grip on the stone. As Malfoy kept angrily mopping the opposite end of the corridor, Colin and Demelza moved away from him, closer to Harry, all the while continuing their conversation.

 

   “… can’t believe you sometimes.”  


   “Don’t judge me, Mel.”

 

   “I’m judging you.”

 

   “Hey!”

 

 Harry dunked the mop in his bucket, making the water slosh and splash onto the floor loudly. He missed Demelza’s next sentence as he was busy swirling his mop around the stubborn spot of slime.

 

   “I know, I know.”

 

   “So why? You know you can’t –”

 

   “I can’t help it, okay? You don’t see me asking you about McLaggen.”

 

   “Shut up, he’s a good Quidditch player.”

 

   “You’ve only seen him in one game!”

 

   “This is different, Colin!”

 

 Harry decided eavesdropping further would be too rude and tried to block out their conversation. However, Ginny was still reading _The Shining_ and he couldn’t block out their conversation and her reading at the same time. He tried to focus instead at how much he loathed Draco Malfoy at that moment.

 

   “I just don’t want to see you get yourself stuck in a bad situation.”  


   “It’s not like anything could happen, alright?”

 

  _This is getting very interesting… Not sure how much I like the gore factor, however._

 

 Harry gave a shake of his head. He checked his watch. 7:08. He gave a groan, dreading the next two hours.

 

  _What if I switched to Two Towers?_  
  


_Ginny, you’re a godsend._

_Love you, too._

 With Ginny now reading to him, the conversation between Colin and Demelza and Malfoy’s mutterings faded. He began to move autonomously, dunking and swiping and pushing his mop around until he ran out of slime.

 

   “Is it all gone?” Harry asked, asking Ginny to pause as he looked around.

 

   “I think we’re done, yeah,” Colin said, then promptly dropped onto the freshly mopped floor and leaned against a wall. “That was exhausting,” he murmured.

 

 Malfoy practically flung his mop back into the broom cupboard. “What do we do now?” he said in a whiny voice. “It’s only 8:30, so Filch won’t show up to let us go for another half hour.”

 

   “We could play a game,” Colin suggested. Malfoy answered him in a scowl. “Or not,” Colin muttered.

 

   “Why don’t you go skulk in a corner over there,” Harry told Malfoy, joining Colin on the floor. “What sort of game?”

 

   “Erm, twenty questions?” Colin suggested.

 

 Demelza frowned. “What’s that?”

 

   “Oh, I keep forgetting you’re not from a Muggle family,” Colin said. “Never mind.”

 

 Harry shrugged. “It’s a question game, one person thinks of something and the other tries to guess it in less than twenty questions.”

 

   “Alright, what are you thinking of?” Demelza promptly asked.

 

   “They have to be yes or no questions,” Colin told her. Demelza huffed.

 

   “That sounds dull,” she said.

 

   “It’s a Muggle game, what do you expect?” Malfoy said.

 

   “If you haven’t got anything nice to say, hold your tongue,” Demelza snapped at him.

 

 Malfoy merely sneered at her. “I could say the same to you,” he said, turning and walking away. Harry glared at his back until he vanished behind the cleaning cart.

 

   “I can’t stand him,” Demelza muttered. “He’s always so mean.”  


   “I think he’s upset,” Colin said, frowning after Malfoy. “My dad always said bullies are mean to people because they’re upset about something else.”  


 Harry snorted. “No offense to your dad, but that’s daft. Malfoy’s a prick because of who he is.”

 

   “You know, you’re not so nice sometimes either,” Demelza said stiffly.

 

   “Oh, leave him alone, Mel,” Colin said. “He’s not mean, he’s anti-social.”

 

   “Asocial,” Demelza corrected. “Anti-social is sociopathic.”

 

   “I’m not asocial,” Harry said. “I’m… introverted.”

 

 Demelza raised an eyebrow. “You tell people to piss off for talking to you sometimes.”

 

   “No, I don’t!” Harry protested. “I tell people to piss off because they’re being rude!”

 

   “It’s still rude,” Demelza said.

 

 Harry gaped at her. _Ginny, your friend is being mean to me._

_My friend is telling you that it’s rude to act rude to people who are being rude._

_That’s too many rude’s._

  “I’m not like him,” Harry said, jerking his head towards Malfoy.

 

   “True,” Demelza said. “Though, I had to agree with Ginny, what you said this morning was a bit excessive.”

 

   “You’re ganging up on me,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

   “I’m on your side, personally,” Colin said.

 

 Demelza rolled her eyes. “Of course, you are,” she muttered exasperatedly.

 

 Harry shrugged. “As long as he steers clear of me and Ginny from now on, I’ll refrain from hexing Malfoy. Is that not as excessive?”

 

   “I’ll accept it,” Demelza said. “I bet you Ginny will too.”

 

_Oh, I accept that. Also, now that you’re done mopping, I’m going back to the Shining._

 

 Harry tried not to groan but nodded to Demelza. He then pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees.

 

   “What time is it?” Harry mumbled.

 

   “You’re the one with a watch,” Demelza said.

 

 Harry muttered grumpily under his breath, wanting to tell her that he had been asking Ginny, not her, though that would sound mental, and checked his watch. “Quarter to nine. Filch should be back soon.”

 

   “What are you lot doing?”  


   “Speak of the devil,” Demelza muttered as Filch appeared from around the corner. Harry quickly pushed himself to his feet to wait for Filch to inspect the corridor and dismiss them. The cantankerous caretaker sniffed as he looked over the floors, then after a few moments gave a nod.

 

   “Alright, get out of here,” he said, waving a hand at them. “Get to your dorms before I give you detention myself for being out past curfew.”

 

   “Yes, sir,” Harry said, a little peeved. He offered Colin a hand up; the boy turned a faint shade of pink and took it. Harry gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, then started for the stairs and Gryffindor tower.

 

   “Malfoy, Filch said we could leave,” Colin said, as the boy was still sitting on the floor. When the Slytherin didn’t respond, Colin stepped closer and touched his shoulder. “Malfoy?”

 

   “Wha – get off,” Malfoy woke with a jerk and waved Colin away. “What are you looking at?” he snapped, getting up and brushing off his robes.

 

 Colin, now pink in the face, shook his head. “N–nothing,” he said. “Erm, see you, I guess.” Colin grabbed Demelza’s hand and pulled her away, practically running for the stairs. Harry glanced at Malfoy, then nodded stiffly, and started after them. Malfoy did not acknowledge him in return, rather he left in the opposite direction. The two fourth years got ahead of him, as Harry was in no hurry. When he reached the portrait hole, they had already gone inside.

 

   “Niffler knick-knacks,” Harry said to the Fat Lady.

 

   “Yes, indeed,” the Fat Lady replied in a murmur as she swung forward. Harry moved through the gap behind her painting into the common room, which was still packed with students.

 

 _I’m upstairs already_ , Ginny thought. Harry nodded without thinking, heading straight for the stairs. He paused for a moment, however, to tie up his shoelaces, unfortunately next to a group of fourth-year girls, as he caught a snippet of their conversation:

 

   “Maisy said that that he’s got _tattoos_!”

 

   “Oh, come off it, Professor Black? Tattoos?”

 

   “Yes! He’s got this big on his back, _Property of Moony_ , she said.”

 

 The girls all giggled as Harry rolled his eyes; of course, his godfather was that teacher, he thought to himself, the one every girl oohed and aahed over.

 

   “That Moony girl better know how lucky she is.”  


 Harry resisted the urge to snort; he was quite certain Remus knew how “lucky” he was.

 

   “Hey, Harry!” Angelina called his name and he stood up from his shoelaces. “Come over here for a moment!”

 

 Harry glanced at his watch; he had said goodbye to Ginny at five thirty, it was nine o’clock already and he didn’t want to loiter any longer than necessary. He glanced between the stairs and Angelina, but she had already called him a second time.

 

   “What’s up?” Harry said, walking over to her.

 

   “We’re having Quidditch practice tomorrow night at seven instead of six thirty,” Angelina said, “but we’ve got the field booked until ten.”

 

  “Erm, okay,” Harry said. “You wouldn’t mind if Ginny watched the practice, would you?”

 

 Angelina shrugged. “Fine by me, as long as you don’t wander off to canoodle in a shed somewhere.”

 

  “We wouldn’t, promise,” Harry said. “I’ve got to go, I’ve got mounds of homework.”

 

  “Fine, see you later, then.”

 

 Harry gave a nod, then tried to move as quickly as possible towards the stairs without running.

 

 In training the next day, Tonks had them attempting to charm their golems again, and by the end, Harry had gotten his to throw a few punches at Ginny’s, but when Ginny managed to get it to fight back, it just walked away and hers did not chase it. Classes that day were dull, they did homework in the library again, and Quidditch practice was long and tiring. They had the first match of the season on Saturday, so that week’s extra training, Potions this time around, had been moved to Sunday.

 

 By Friday, Malfoy hadn’t bothered Harry or Ginny again, which Harry took as a good sign and Ginny took as a relief. They got back their essays from Snape, and Harry’s was given an _Acceptable_ , which Hermione huffed about but Harry was grateful, as it wasn’t a _Poor_.

 

 Saturday morning dawned bright and cold; Harry cast a warming charm on his slippers before putting his feet in them. He let Ginny sleep while he showered and dressed, then woke her up around eight.

 

   “We’ve not got training, Harry, leave me alone,” she mumbled, rolling over.

 

   “Because I have a Quidditch match, Gin,” Harry reminded her. “Come on, you’ve got to get up.”

 

 Ginny waved a hand. “Let me sleep in for once,” she mumbled.

 

   “It’s not my fault you were up reading until one in the morning,” Harry told her, “but if you don’t get up know you won’t be able to get ready in time for breakfast.”

 

 Ginny cracked open one eye and checked the clock. “Fine,” she muttered, getting up. “It’s bloody cold in here, Harry, why haven’t you cast a warming charm on the room?”

 

  “I didn’t think of it, sorry,” he said. Ginny grumbled as she took out her wand and cast a charm upon the room. Harry dropped onto the bed and picked up _Two Towers_ to read while she was in the shower.

 

 They left for breakfast about twenty minutes later, Ginny still half-asleep. As they left their room, Hollins and Greenley exited Hollins’s room across the hall.

 

  “Morning,” Harry said.

 

 _Told you_ , Ginny thought.

 

   “Morning,” Greenley answered him, taking the stairs down through the girl’s dormitory. Hollins didn’t reply, just followed Greenley. Ginny pecked Harry’s cheek before going after them. Harry took the stairs down through the boys’ dorms, pausing outside his old dorm to check on Ron. He opened the door and went in, looking around as he did. His old room-mates were much messier than he remembered.

 

   “Oi!” Harry shouted. “Get up, you lot!”

 

 Harry heard a strangled shout and Seamus toppled out of his bed. “Harry, what the bloody hell are you doing?” he complained, picking himself up and looking crossly at him.

 

  “I’m getting you up so you can get breakfast before the Quidditch match,” Harry said brightly. “So, get up.”

 

  “Fuck the Quidditch match!” Dean shouted from behind his curtains.

 

   “It’s the first game of the season, Dean, you have to come,” Harry told him as he strode over to Ron’s bed. “Come on, Ron, get up!”

 

   “Piss off, Harry,” Ron mumbled, rolling over. Harry rolled his eyes, then took out his wand and muttered a quick charm. Water spewed from the end of his wand, instantly soaking Ron and his bed, who gave a strangled yelp that was half shock half cursing and leapt out of the bed. “Harry!” he shouted, dripping onto the hardwood floor.

 

   “Rise and shine, come and get breakfast,” Harry said, then ran from the room as Ron had started chasing him.

 

   “I’ll get you for that!” Ron shouted after him; Harry laughed, exiting the dormitory.

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?” she said.

 

   “What?” he said. “It was a harmless prank!”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “Just remember that when he comes roaring down here looking for your head on a platter, I’m on his side.”

 

   “Thanks, love, you deserve a medal for being the best wife in the world.”

 

   “More like the best sister,” Ginny said, linking her arm with his and starting towards the portrait hole.

 

 Hermione’s voice came from the stairs, calling for them. “Harry, Ginny, wait up!” They paused, turning around as Hermione left the girls’ dorms and came up behind them.

 

   “Warning, Ron’s going to be pissed when he gets down,” Ginny said.

 

 Hermione frowned. “Why?”

 

   “Because Harry woke him up with the Aguamenti charm,” Ginny answered, smirking.

 

 Hermione gave a snort of laughter, then linked her arm through Harry’s unoccupied arm. “Of course you did,” she said. “Let’s get out of here before he finds you then.”

 

   “You’re not waiting for him?” Ginny asked.

 

   “No, not this morning,” Hermione said.

 

 Ginny shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

 

 They left the tower, heading for the Great Hall and breakfast. As it was only 8:30 on a Saturday, even though there was a Quidditch match later, the dining hall was barely half full, with the most people seated at the Hufflepuff table. The Gryffindor table, especially, was devoid of its students, so they had prime choice of seats.

 

   “How long do you imagine it will take for the rest of them to come down?” Harry asked as he poured himself coffee.

 

   “A few minutes, if Ron’s that pissed,” Ginny said. “Pass the bacon, please. Did you wake up everyone?”

 

   “Yeah, except maybe Neville; I didn’t see him get up.”

 

   “Because I was already up,” said Neville, having walked up behind them without them noticing; Luna was with him, wearing a rather peculiar lion-shaped hat.

 

   “Oh, hi,” Harry said, turning in his seat. “Morning.”

 

   “Same to you,” Neville said, taking a seat next to Ginny.

 

   “Are you sitting with us today, Lu?” Ginny asked the Ravenclaw girl.

 

   “Yes, I want to show support for Gryffindor,” Luna answered, pointing to her hat.

 

   “That’s very interesting, did you make it?”

 

 Luna nodded, and the lion growled. “It’s enchanted to roar as well, but I won’t set it off in here; it’s rather loud.”

 

   “Good thinking,” Ginny said, turning back her plate.

 

 A few minutes later, Ron entered the Great Hall, followed by the sleepy looking pair of Seamus and Dean; Ron was definitely still irate over the water, as he dropped down across from Harry with a scowl.

 

   “Feeling refreshed, Ron?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin.

 

   “You watch your back, Harry Potter,” Ron threatened, waving the sausage he had picked up in lieu of his wand.

 

   “Oh, I will, don’t worry,” Harry said without concern.

 

 Ron’s scowl deepened, but he started on his breakfast anyway. Ten or twenty minutes past that, Angelina and the rest of the team showed up, all gathering around Harry and Ron at the table. Fred and George squeezed in on either side of Ron, Angelina beside George, Katie between Harry and Hermione, and Alicia on Hermione’s other side.

 

   “Eat up, everyone, we need the energy!” Angelina called. “Ron, Harry, have you been up long?”

 

   “I was very rudely awakened this morning at 8:30,” Ron complained.

 

   “Good time for it, then,” Angelina said distractedly. “We’re facing Slytherin, so remember, keep your guard up at all times, they’re bound to plan nasty.”

 

   “Malfoy especially is going to be pissy,” Fred said.

 

   “More than usual?” asked Ron.

 

   “Yeah,” George said with a nod. “Our sources in Slytherin say that he’s been having non-stop PMS since the start of the year.”

 

   “Could you please not use part of the menstrual cycle to describe that little shitbag,” Katie asked.

 

   “Fine, he’s been angsty and bitchy all year,” George corrected.

 

   “Thank you,” Kate replied, shooting him a smile.

 

   “Is he really?” Harry asked. “I just thought he was acting normal.”

 

   “Nope,” Fred said, popping the final ‘p’ in the word. “Apparently, he’s constantly sulking and will snap at anyone who talks to him, even his friends.”

 

 Harry frowned, thinking back, but Fred had to be right. The last few times Malfoy had confronted him and Ginny, he had been alone. Normally, he would be backed by Crabbe and Goyle at the least, if not a few of his other cronies. “Anyone saying why?” he asked Fred.

 

   “Not a clue,” George answered. “But the little git’s starting to find out that you can’t yell at everyone and still have friends at the end of the day.”

 

   “Yikes,” Harry murmured, not knowing what else to say.

 

   “Yeah, indeed,” George said. “Anyway, while he’s being a prick, Marcus Flint might be off his game today.”

 

   “What did you do?” Angelina asked exasperatedly, setting down her fork.

 

   “Absolutely nothing,” George answered.

 

   “Today,” Fred added.

 

   “Yesterday, on the other hand,” George continued.

 

   “Possibly a note insinuating that his antics in the dungeon with a certain Ravenclaw had not gone unnoticed,” Fred said.

 

   “But of course, we wouldn’t be that obvious,” George reassured her.

 

 Angelina rolled her eyes. “Have you got money riding on this match?”

 

   “Ten galleons,” George said.

 

   “Each,” added Fred.

 

 Angelina sighed.

 

 The Great Hall filled up rapidly; by nine, the Gryffindor table was packed with pumped students cheering and shouting – twice, Fred and George managed to start a cheer of _“Lions win, snakes are grim!”_ Harry felt like he would rather melt into his seat than be stuck in the middle of the table with literally everyone walking up to him and the rest of the team to wish him luck. A couple of sixth and seventh years he had never even talked to ruffled his hair at one point. Harry tried not to seem rude in dodging their hands. Ron ended up hiding in Fred and George’s shadow, looking for once grateful to be unnoticed in their presence.

 

   “You’d think this was the final game of the season, not the first,” Ron muttered as a group of giggling fourth-year girls left.

 

   “It’s not our fault we’re the heart and soul of Gryffindor,” Fred said, puffing out his chest.

 

   “Are you kidding me, you’re not getting half the attention poor Harry here is,” Katie said. “I’ve half a mind to start telling them to piss off, he looks so uncomfortable.”

 

   “Is it that obvious?” Harry muttered.

 

   “Only because I know you so well,” Katie promised him, patting his shoulder.

 

   “Well, Harry, Fred, and I count as the heart and soul of Gryffindor then,” George said.

 

   “Even Head Grump Hollins wished us good luck,” Fred reminded them. “Do you know how little she even talks to us anymore?”  


   “What did you do to her?” Angelina asked.

 

   “A gentleman does not kiss and tell,” George told her.

 

   “Yeah, what he said,” Fred added.

 

   “Both of you?” Alicia laughed. “Merlin, you’re incorrigible.”

 

 Harry frowned. “I thought she was gay?”

 

 Alicia shrugged. “Her old dorm-mates say that, but I don’t think so.”

 

   “Except that other seventh year Greenley stays the night in Hollins’s room all the time,” Ginny said.

 

   “Yeah, because Greenley hates her room-mates,” Angelina said. “I should know, I’m one of them.”

 

   “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” Hermione said, popping out from between Katie and Alicia. “Wizards are far less racist towards ethnic people than Muggles as far as I’ve experienced.”

 

   “Why d’you assume it’s because I’m black?” Angelina asked, laughing. “Greenley hates everyone equally; so does Hollins.”

 

 Hermione turned slightly red. “Well, I don’t know,” she mumbled, leaning back. Angelina reached across the table and patted Hermine’s head.

 

   “You’re cute, kid,” she said, “I hope Ron keeps you around.”

 

 Ron turned almost as pink as Hermione.

 

   “I hope that too, keeps her itchy Prefect nose off our tail,” Fred said, elbowing Ron lightly.

 

   “Shove off,” Ron muttered, grabbing a third serving of sausages.

 

   “I think they’re dating,” Ginny said, returning to the subject of the Head Girl and Greenley. “Maybe their mutual dislike of the rest of the school brought them together.”

 

   “Yeah, but Hollins is into blokes,” George said to her. “Very into blokes.”

 

   “There is such a thing as bisexuality,” Ginny reminded him. George shrugged.

 

   “Whatever. Hollins wished us luck, and if she’s not dating Greenley, I’m going to double check that she’s into blokes,” George said decidedly.

 

   “Gee, that must make all the girls go wild,” Katie said, rolling her eyes.

 

   “It does, actually,” George laughed.

 

 Katie shook her head at him. “Sometimes I wish Angie would kick you off the team,” she muttered.

 

   “My apologies on his behalf, dear girl,” Fred said to her. “I shan’t be checking if Hollins is gay or not, so if you’re up for celebrating later this evening, I am open to whatever you’re into.”

 

   “Ha,” Katie said sarcastically. “Hope you don’t mind being tied up.”

 

 Fred chuckled. “Kinky, nice.”

 

 Harry hid his head in his hands. Ginny patted his shoulder sympathetically.

 

   “Can we change the subject?” Ron asked. “Not that I don’t enjoy this particular subject, but I actually hate this particular subject when it relates to my brothers.”

 

   “Yeah, because you don’t mind that stuff at all, do ya?” George asked, grabbing Ron by the shoulders and smirking. “Nor does your little girlfriend.”  


 Ron turned bright red and Hermione actually slid out of her seat and under the table. Harry looked up, confused. “Wait, what does that mean?”

 

 Fred snorted. “Never mind,” he said, waving a hand. Harry looked at Ginny, who was very obviously trying not to laugh.

 

   “Gin?” he said.

 

   “No, no, I know nothing,” she sniggered.

 

 Harry scowled. “Yes, you do, don’t lie.”

 

 Ginny snorted. “Sorry. It’s just – you’re really oblivious sometimes, Harry.”

 

 Harry turned his scowl on Ron. “I didn’t get to give you the whole ‘big brother/watch your back/don’t hurt my sort of sister’ talk!”

 

 Ron, though bright red in the face, shrugged. “Honestly, mate, I’m not chuffed about missing out on that particular talk.”

 

   “Yeah, and if you gave him that talk, you know what would happen in return,” Fred reminded Harry. “Ginny’s got six brothers.”

 

 Ginny gave Fred the finger. “And Ginny’s got a husband, too, not some horny boyfriend.”

 

   “Yeah,” Harry said. “See?”

 

   “He can’t get away,” Ginny continued. “I’m literally stuck with him for the rest of my life.”  


   “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Harry whined.

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes.

 

   “You two are so confusing,” Seamus said. “Is alright if I blame your example for all my failed relationships?”

 

   “I think you ought to blame your divorced parents,” Dean replied.

 

 Angelina stood up then, stretching her arms above her head. “Alright, team, we’ve dawdled out here long enough. Let’s head over to the changing rooms.”

 

   “Yes, ma’am,” Fred said, jumping up. “Forward, march!” He began to mock-march out of the hall, George quickly catching up with him. Angelina rolled her eyes.

 

  “Come on,” she said. “And, yes, Harry, Ginny can come with us,” she said as Harry opened his mouth. “I don’t get how you two aren’t sick of each other by now,” she muttered, leading them from the hall. Ginny snorted as she looped her arm through Harry’s. Harry, on the other hand, was simply grateful that she didn’t ask for explanations as to why he and she were together constantly. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, plus Ginny, made their way out of the Great Hall to great cheers and applause from their House and multiple boos from the Slytherin table. The Slytherin Quidditch team hadn’t even finished eating when they left.

 

   “Alright, everyone get changed and meet up in here,” Angelina called as she led Katie and Alicia into the girls’ changing room.

 

   “Ooh, pep talks in the girls' room,” Fred laughed, ducking into the boys’ changing room. Angelina rolled her eyes at him, then moved out of sight. Ginny gave Harry a peck on the cheek before going into the girls’ room with the Chasers.

 

  _No peeking_ , she reminded him with a cheeky grin. Harry flushed, rolled his eyes, and stuck his tongue out at her; she laughed.

 

 He and the Weasley boys changed quickly, then walked over to the other half of the changing room and Fred knocked. They waited for Angelina to tell them they could enter, then headed inside.

 

   “Alright, gather round,” Angelina said. “Let’s talk today’s strategy.”

 

   “Aggressive chasing and use of Bludgers,” Alicia said instantly.

 

   “Let me talk!” Angelina called, scowling. Alicia shrugged and lay down on a bench. “We’re going for aggressive chasing and Bludger attacks.” Alicia threw her hands into the air as if to say _Told you!_ Angelina ignored her. “Fred, George, I want you controlling the Bludgers at all times.”

 

   “Sir, yes, sir!” George said, saluting.

 

   “Alicia, Katie, remember that move we’ve been practicing –”

 

   “We’ve been practicing it for a month, Angie,” Katie assured her. “We could do it in our sleep.”

 

   “Good,” Angelina said with a stiff nod. “Ginny – wait, why are you still in here?”

 

   “So that I don’t go nuts halfway through the match,” Ginny quipped. Angelina rolled her eyes.

 

   “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Harry, I want you keeping an eye out for Malfoy, don’t let him get the Snitch and don’t you catch it either until we’re at least ten goals in. Grab it if Malfoy’s too close, but I want a nice strong lead going into the season.”

 

 Harry gave a nod. “I’ll keep him distracted,” he promised.

 

   “Won’t take him much to do that,” Alicia quipped. The twins snorted.

 

   “Focus, Al!” Angelina called.

 

   “Sorry,” Alicia said, sitting up.

 

   “Ron, remember what we talked about last practice,” Angelina continued. “You gotta keep your head in the game.”

 

   “Got it,” Ron said, nodding.

 

   “Y’know, that has quite a nice ring to it,” George mused, “gotta keep your head in the game.”

 

   “Gotta get your head in the game,” Fred added. The twins chuckled to each other.

 

   “Alright, let’s get some warm ups done,” Angelina called, rising from her bench and drawing her wand. “Get up, everyone, now.” Harry scrambled to get up off the floor as Angelina waved her wand and magicked the benches away from the center of the room. He always dreaded warm-ups.

 

 By the time they finished warming up, the stadium had filled enough for the sounds of the crowd outside to reach the changing rooms. The match began at eleven, and by Harry’s watch, it was 10:40. Angelina began pacing up and down the room, occasionally shouting out encouragements or reminders for the game ahead. Fred, George, and Alicia started a game of Exploding Snap in a corner, and Harry sat with Ron and Ginny by the lockers in silence; Ron looked like he might vomit, and Ginny kept a firm grip on her wand in case he did.

 

 Angelina left the changing room a few minutes later to check in with madam Hooch, then returned a little before eleven to give them a final note: “Whatever happens out there today, let’s come off the pitch knowing we did our best and we played fair, alright?”

 

   “Yeah!” George echoed. “Everyone, huddle up, _Lions win_ on three; one, two, three –”

 

   “Lions win!” the team – and Ginny – all shouted.

 

   “Let’s go!” Angelina called. “Erm, Ginny, you have to go to the stands.”

 

   “Noted,” Ginny said, giving Harry a quick kiss. “Good luck!”

 

   “Thanks,” Harry said, waving her off.

 

   “She better turn out to be a fantastic good luck charm,” Angelina said as they lined up at the exit onto the pitch.

 

   “She will,” Harry said. “Thanks for letting her hang around.”

 

   “No problem,” Angelina told him. “Dumbledore said she would be.”

 

   “He did?” Harry asked, frowning.

 

   “Yeah, start of the year. Pulled me aside and said I was to let her audit practices and stick around before games and the lot. Didn’t say why.”  


   “Oh,” Harry murmured. “Erm, it’s a bit of a long story.”  


 Angelina raised an eyebrow at him, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, you can tell it to me later,” she said, looking away again.

 

 Harry just gave a quick nod, adjusting his grip on his Firebolt.

 

  _Dumbledore thinks of everything, I guess,_ he mused.

 

  _Apparently,_ Ginny replied. _Nice of him to do._

 

 Harry almost nodded, then stopped himself from reacting visibly. He let affirmative thoughts travel his mind to hers instead.

 

 Angelina pulled back the curtain covering the doorway, seemingly waiting for Madam Hooch’s signal. After a moment, she dropped it and gave a nod to the team.

 

   “Let’s go,” she said.

 

 The crowd erupted in cheers as the Gryffindor team stepped out onto the pitch; at the same time, the Slytherin Quidditch team made their way out of the changing rooms at the opposite end of the stadium, and plenty of the cheers were for them as well. Harry made eye contact with Malfoy and gave a stiff nod, just to receive a glare in return.

 

   “Captains, shake hands!” Madam Hooch declared. Angelina stepped forward and held her hand out to Marcus Flint; Flint took it and gave it a rough shake. “Mount your brooms!”

 

 Harry swung his leg over his Firebolt, crouch, ready to kick off.

 

    “Keep this a clean, fair game,” the referee reminded them, putting her whistle to her lips and in her other hand, holding up the Quaffle. She clenched the whistle between her lips and raised the Quaffle above her head. She blew the whistle and Harry kicked off; the players shot into the air as Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into play.

 

   “And Johnson gets the Quaffle; she dodges Flint and passes to Spinnet!”

 

 The Snitch hadn’t been released yet, so Harry began a loop of the pitch as he listened to Lee Jordan commentating. He spotted Malfoy by the Slytherin goals and took off towards him.

 

   “Spinnet loops Warrington and passes back to Johnson; watch out for that Bludger, Angelina! Nice dodge! Johnson passes to Bell; no, she feints a pass to Bell! Warrington falls for it, too! Johnson heads for the goals; she shoots left, and Bletchley misses it! Ten points to Gryffindor!”

 

 Malfoy had to dodge Bletchley as he went to retrieve the Quaffle; he headed for the other end of the pitch, and Harry followed him.

 

   “The Snitch is released, and vanishes immediately, as it usually does. Let’s hope Potter catches it before Malfoy. Sorry, sorry, Professor; let’s hope neither Seeker catches it too soon and ends the match before it has a chance to even start! And Flint gets the Quaffle!”

 

 Malfoy reversed suddenly and looped over Harry. “Quit tailing me, Potter!” he shouted, shooting past him. Harry resisted the urge to flip him off and flew upward instead of after him. He could tail him from above.

 

   “Fred Weasley hits the Bludger towards Flint; at least, I think that’s Fred, they really ought to wear signs. Flint rolls, but he drops the Quaffle; Spinnet catches it and heads back towards the Slytherin goals. Spinnet, for your information, is quite single and ready to mingle if your name is not Andrew Goldstein. Sorry, Professor McG, she asked me to say that. Oh, and apologies to Andrew Goldstein, you should have realized that snogging that Ravenclaw in your and Alicia’s special place would result in a situation like this.”

 

 Harry chortled a bit as he watched Alicia flash the crowd a grin before diverting his attention back to Malfoy. The Slytherin Seeker was circling the pitch, his face scrunched up as he scanned it for the snitch. Gryffindor was only ten points into the game, but the Snitch usually managed to hide very well until at least 4 or 5 goals had been scored.

 

   “And Spinnet passes to Bell, who catches it by the tip of her fingers and – oh, ouch! That had to have hurt; Montague tackles Bell and she drops the Quaffle; Flint grabs it. Fred, hit a Bludger at him! Or George, that works too. Flint drops the Quaffle and Johnson takes it!”

 

Harry saw Malfoy flying directly underneath him, oblivious to Harry positioned above him. Harry took advantage of the Slytherin’s lapse of concentration and dived suddenly, rocketing right past Malfoy’s nose; he heard Malfoy swear loudly, then glanced over his shoulder to see him diving too. Harry rapidly pulled out of it and shot off towards the Gryffindor goals, all the while tailed by Malfoy.

 

   “The Seekers are racing each other; has one of them spotted the Snitch? Oh, and Johnson scores again for Gryffindor, twenty points to zero, but who cares about that, Potter and Malfoy are neck and neck!”

 

 Malfoy elbowed Harry suddenly, throwing him off course, but Harry didn’t care, he had achieved what he wanted to do; he spun around and headed for the Slytherin goals. He heard Malfoy swearing again and guessed that he had realized that Harry had been feinting.

 

   “And Potter turns back; must have mistaken a watch for the Snitch or something. And Montague with the Quaffle; he passes to Warrington, and Warrington drops it?! Or not? I don’t know, but Flint catches it and keeps on going – Angelina, tackle him! Oh, you tried; Johnson fails to grab the Quaffle as Flint passes back to Warrington. Warrington dodges a Bludger!”

 

 Harry glanced around; the Slytherin Chasers were right on top of the Gryffindor goal posts.

 

   “Warrington shoots! And Gryffindor Keeper Weasley – gets hit by a Bludger?!”

 

Harry spun around to gape; Ron missed the Quaffle flying through the left hoop, but the Bludger that one of the twins had sent towards Warrington had carried on to hit Ron. He shot off towards the goals, but Ron was already flying off to get the Quaffle and the match was carrying on.

 

   “No foul from the referee, so ten points to Slytherin! Fred, watch where you send your Bludgers!”

 

   “Sorry!” shouted Fred.

 

 Ron seemed okay, as he tossed the Quaffle to Angelina and returned to the middle hoop. Harry worried that it was mostly his pride wounded.

 

  _Harry, Malfoy’s spotted something!_

 

 Harry wheeled around and saw that Malfoy was indeed shooting towards the ground on the Gryffindor end of the pitch; Harry muttered a curse and leaned in, shooting forward on his broom towards Malfoy. The Slytherin glanced over his shoulder at him and sped up, but Harry pulled ahead of him and cut in front of him sharply, causing Malfoy to have to yank upwards on his broom to dodge him.

 

   “What the hell, Potter?” Malfoy spat. “Get out of my way!”

 

   “Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t see you there,” Harry shot back, then flew past him, again cutting it close so he brushed against him and knocked him away again. The Snitch had vanished again.

 

   “And Johnson passes to Spinnet, who passes to Bell, who passes back to Johnson; nice use of the Romanian Dribble, Gryffindor Chasers! Johnson ducks Montague and passes to Bell; Slytherin Beater Crabbe hits a Bludger toward Bell, she dodges and passes to Spinnet. Spinnet shoots; she scores! Thirty-ten, to Gryffindor!”

 

 Harry circled the Hufflepuff stands, watching Malfoy prowl the other side of the pitch. He hadn’t spotted the Snitch again, and by the looks of it, neither had Malfoy.

 

   “Bletchley gives the Quaffle to Flint; oh, no, Johnson steals it and puts it away again! Nice shot there, Angelina, forty points to Gryffindor! And Montague gets the Quaffle, he dodges a Bludger from Weasley and passes to Flint. Bell tackles him, and she doesn’t get the Quaffle, Flint passes back to Montague.”

 

 Harry flew towards the Gryffindor goals; Malfoy was creeping closer and closer to them and Harry didn’t want him to get too far away from him.

 

   “Flint and Montague are bearing down on Gryffindor Keeper Weasley; time to see how he faces up against the Chasers without stray Bludgers in the area. Johnson is on Flint’s tail, maybe she’ll steal it from him; Flint passes to Montague and Montague shoots for the right goal and Weasley catches it! Yes, great save, Ron! Ron gives the Quaffle to Bell and she rockets across the pitch towards the Slytherin goals! Everyone give a quick round of applause to the new Weasley on the team, I’d say that he’s a keeper, Angelina!”

 

 The whole pitch groaned under the weight of Lee’s pun; Harry shot Jordan a grimace that was half glare half grin in time to see McGonagall hitting Lee over the head with her hat.

 

   “Sorry, sorry, Professor, couldn’t resist. Bell passed to Spinnet, who’s now flying straight for the goals; Goyle hits a Bludger towards her, watch out! She passes to Johnson and rolls to avoid the Bludger! I knew I liked that girl, shame she won’t date me. Angelina, watch out for Warrington! Warrington tries to steal the Quaffle and fails, Johnson passes back to Bell, and Bell shoots; she scores! Fifty-ten, to Gryffindor!”  


 Malfoy was getting antsy; he was moving erratically around the lower half of the pitch, shooting back and forth as he searched for the Snitch. Angelina scored again in the time it took Harry to level with Malfoy, putting Gryffindor fifty points ahead. Angelina’s plan of aggressive chasing was definitely working, the Slytherin Chasers barely had time to get near the Quaffle let alone take it back to the Gryffindor goals, and it had to be helping Ron with his nerves. Harry had to focus on Malfoy, however; the Slytherin had spotted him and had taken off towards the Slytherin goals, not in a desperate run as he did when he was chasing the Snitch, just in irritation at seeing Harry tailing him again. Malfoy started a loop of the Slytherin goals when Harry spotted it; the Snitch was hovering under Keeper Bletchley’s feet, right above Malfoy’s head. And Harry was halfway across the field.

 

  _Harry, the Snitch –_

_I know!_

 

  “Spinnet shoots for the left goal, and Bletchley saves it! Seeker Malfoy is moving again, has he seen the Snitch?”

 

 Harry shot towards the Slytherin goal, but Malfoy was going in the other direction, and the Snitch had darted away when Bletchley caught the Quaffle. He could see it still, flying for the Slytherin stands. Harry did an abrupt turn and shot for Malfoy; he flew right past his nose and made him pull up to avoid crashing into him.

 

   “Do you have a death wish, Potter?” Malfoy shouted at him.

 

   “Nope, I’m just horribly blind,” Harry shouted back, flying away again. The Snitch had vanished, but Malfoy looked irritated, not concerned. He hadn’t seen it.

 

   “And Flint shoots! Wait, no, he passes; Montague scores! Sixty-twenty, Gryffindor still ahead by forty points.”

 

 Harry flew off towards the Slytherin goals; Malfoy headed for the Ravenclaw stands in the opposite direction.

 

   “Weasley gives the Quaffle to Johnson, who wastes no time in flying across the pitch; she weaves around Montague, flies under Flint, and passes to Spinnet; Spinnet performs a perfect Sloth-Grip Roll to dodge Warrington and drops the Quaffle; caught by Katie Bell, so I can’t tell if Alicia meant to do that or not. Hey, I rhymed! Yes, right Professor; Bell dodges a Bludger and shoots! She scores! Seventy-twenty, to Gryffindor! I’m going to be five galleons richer when this match is over, let me tell you – What? Professor, don’t be ridiculous, there’s no illegal gambling going on in Hogwarts, just a friendly bet between colleagues! Yes, I checked the rulebook; this doesn’t count as illegal – Oh, Flint just stole the Quaffle from Johnson and he’s shooting and Weasley catches it! Professor, stop distracting me, I’m commentating!”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes at Lee Jordan, glancing back at where he and Professor McGonagall were sitting; McGonagall, indeed, looked irritated with Lee, but at the same time pleased with the events of the match. Harry looked for Malfoy again, spotting him hovering above the Ravenclaw stands, watching him. Harry frowned, then flew closer to the Slytherin stands. They were fifty points up, with that lead, he needed to start hunting out the Snitch himself.

 

   “Johnson has the Quaffle, and she’s flying towards the Slytherin goals, just filled with determination, she’s going to win this match, or else I owe Maisy Jameson five galleons and I’m not losing a bet to a fourth year! Johnson passes to Bell, who passes to Spinnet, who passes back to Johnson, who shoots, and scores! Eighty-twenty, Gryffindor in the lead by sixty points! Oh, Malfoy seems to have spotted something – never mind, it was apparently nothing, he flies away and Flint takes the Quaffle – for ten seconds; Johnson steals it and rockets back towards the Slytherin goals and ouch! Bludger to the back, she drops the Quaffle, caught by Montague!”

 

Harry was searching the ground for whatever Malfoy had spotted, then caught sight of someone in the Hufflepuff stands waving something golden in their hands; whatever it was, it wasn’t the snitch. Harry turned back, heading for the Slytherin goal posts, when he spotted it – The Snitch was hovering near the Gryffindor stands, right above the heads of the first few rows.

 

 They were sixty points up, and Slytherin was catching up. Harry shot towards the Gryffindor stands, determined to snatch the Snitch right out of the air before Montague could score again.

 

   “And Potter seems to have spotted something! He’s flying towards the Gryffindor stands, Malfoy hot on his tail!”

 

 Harry glanced over his shoulder; Malfoy was inches behind him, his face contorted with determined anger. Harry pressed forward, urging his Firebolt to speed up, he stuck his hand out, the Snitch was just inches from his fingers.

 

   “AND POTTER GRABS THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS, TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY POINTS TO TWENTY! JAMESON, YOU OWE ME FIVE GALLEONS; THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR BETTING AGAINST YOUR OWN HOUSE!”

 

 Harry braked, clutching the Snitch in his hand and grinned at it. The crowd below him was screaming and clapping; someone grabbed the hem of his robes, catching his attention. Ginny was right below him, her face split with a wide grin. Harry gripped the handle of his broom and rolled to the side, hovering upside down before his wife.

 

   “Give us a kiss?” he asked her, grinning. She laughed and pressed her mouth over his; it was weird to kiss someone upside down, but Harry didn’t care. She let go and Harry righted himself – not without some strain, of course – and flew out from over the stands in time to be rammed with the entire team at once.

 

   “WE WON! WE WON! WE WON!” Fred was screaming at the top of his lungs.

 

   “NICE CATCH, HARRY!” Angelina shouted over the screams of the Gryffindors.

 

   “WE WON!”

 

 The team flew to the ground; Harry jumped off his broom and Fred grabbed his fist, still clutching the Snitch, to shake it in the air for even louder cheers.

 

   “Everyone gather up!” Angelina shouted. “Smile for the scrapbook!”

 

 Harry hadn’t even noticed Colin Creevey running out onto the field as the team group-hugged, Harry in the middle despite being taller than the girls, his fist still raised with the Snitch. Colin snapped several photos; Alicia and Katie planted kisses on Harry’s cheeks for one, and then Fred and George decided to do the same.

 

   “We won!” Fred shouted.

 

   “And I thought I was vain,” Malfoy’s voice called over the cheering. “First win and you’re compiling a scrapbook?”

 

   “Shove off, Malfoy,” Angelina called. “You’d do the same.”

 

 Malfoy sneered at her, then turned his grimace onto Colin. “Not with that one behind the camera; I’d hire a professional.”

 

   “I am a professional!” Colin protested, though he was blushing.

 

   “Oh, yeah? Professionals don’t use beat-up, second-hand cameras,” Malfoy snapped.  


   “This was my dad’s camera!” Colin defended himself, hugging his camera to his chest.

 

   “Your dad had poor taste,” Malfoy shot back.

 

   “Why must you always be so horrible?” Colin snapped. “No wonder no one likes you!”

 

 Malfoy’s eyes widened, he took a step back, then he solidified his glare. “No one asked you, _queer_ ,” he spat, and he stormed away, banging into Colin’s shoulder and almost knocking him to the ground. Alicia grabbed Colin to steady him, and Angelina grabbed Harry to hold him back from hexing Malfoy.

 

   “You alright, Colin?” Angelina asked coolly.

 

   “I’m fine,” Colin said, “erm, I’ll have these pictures developed by Monday.”

 

   “Thanks, Colin,” Angelina said, giving him a side hug. “Ignore Malfoy, he’s a prick.”

 

 Alicia was frowning after Malfoy, absently patting Colin’s shoulder as she was still holding onto his arm. “I hope that rat bastard gets what’s coming to him,” she murmured. “Actually, I wish you did hex his bits off yesterday, Harry.”

 

   “So do I,” Harry grumbled.

 

   “Oh, don’t get in trouble on my behalf!” Colin said quickly.

 

   “He won’t, I promise,” came Ginny’s voice. She walked over to Colin and gave him a hug. “Ignore Malfoy.”

 

   “They suggested I do that already,” Colin said.

 

   “I’ll get Malfoy myself,” Ginny told him. “He needs a good swift kick up the arse.”

 

   “That’s the spirit!” Fred crowed. “Come on, off to Gryffindor tower! We’ve got to celebrate the first win of the season!”

 

 Fred and George scooped Harry up onto their shoulders and the quickly growing crowd marched back to the castle; the Gryffindors were chanting again; _“Lions win, snakes are grim, Lions win, snakes are grim!”_


	50. November Air

**Chapter Fifty**

**November Air**

**Harry**

 

 

 The party in Gryffindor tower lasted well into the early hours of the morning, the last few stragglers being shuttled off to be around 3a.m. by Head Girl Hollins who was tired of the noise. By dawn, Harry regretted being one of the last people to go to bed, as Remus woke them up on schedule regardless of Harry’s pounding headache and Ginny refusing to open her eyes. Remus actually came through the Floo and forcibly removed them from bed. Tonks had them practicing with the golems again, and by the end of their training, Harry and Ginny had succeeded in getting them to fight each other without running away.

 

   “I think you’ll be ready for bigger models,” Tonks said as they left. “Maybe mannequins.”

 

 They went to breakfast, finding their friends already there. Seamus and Ron were arguing over Chudley Canons vs the Wimborn Wasps, and Ginny, being no fan of either, chose to sit with her other friends down the table. Harry half listened to Ginny and her friends talk, almost laughing when Anna Williams and Demelza Robbins got into an argument over their favorite Quidditch team, then did when Ginny jumped in to defend the Hollyhead Harpies. Seamus asked him what was so funny, and Harry quickly shook his head. Down the table, Anna Williams conceded to the Harpies’ greatness, saying they had much more attractive players than any other team in England.

 

 After breakfast, however, was their first extra Potions lesson with Snape. So far, it had just been Animagus and extra Charms training, but Dumbledore had finally told them they had to report to Snape. Ron and Neville wished them luck, and Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Luna walked to the dungeons to meet Snape in his classroom.

 

 The room wasn’t empty when they reached it; Snape was already there, as was a student, and going from the platinum blonde hair they could just barely see through the fogged glass, it was Malfoy.

 

   “We should wait out here,” Hermione said.

 

   “Are you kidding me, I want to know what they’re saying!” Ginny said.

 

 Harry suddenly checked his pockets. “Fred and George gave me these things last time they decided to report how the business was going; they’re a prototype – here!”

 He pulled from his pocket a long flesh colored string, with two small, model ears at each end. Hermione grimaced.

 

   “What is that?” she hissed.

 

   “Extendible ears,” Harry said, shoving one ear under the door. It trembled for a second, then the string began to grow as the ear began snaking forward through the classroom towards Snape and Malfoy. “Listen,” Harry said, holding up the other ear. There was a soft murmuring coming from it, then a few distinguishable words, then:

 

   “…you don’t get it, I can’t just let this go! Father won’t shut up about it, Mother’s stressed out of her mind but she’s pretending that it’s all fine, and…”

 

 Malfoy’s words faded from hearing; Harry glanced up to see him pacing the room, away from them, then back. Hermione looked slightly shocked, Ginny was staring at the ear with her mouth slightly open, and even Luna looked surprised at how intense and upset Malfoy sounded.

 

   “… it’s not like I can just ignore that, it keeps popping up in the back of my head no matter how hard I try to push it away, even though I hate the thought of it, I can’t keep pretending…”

 

 He was pacing again. Harry frowned, trying to figure out what Malfoy was talking about.

 

   “… it’s not like I can talk to anyone about it anyway.”

 

   “You’re talking to me.”

 

 Malfoy snorted, then his voice faded again.

 

   “It isn’t as bad as you claim it is, Draco.”

 

   “Isn’t it?” Malfoy snapped. “Father wants me to…”

 

   “You have options, Draco.”

 

   “… if he even knew…”

 

 Harry met Ginny’s eye, raising an eyebrow.

 

  _Can you figure out what he’s talking about?_  


She shrugged. _His father’s a Death Eater. But… he can’t be complaining about his father wanting him to join the Death Eaters…_

_Can he?_

 

   “… Mother’s only letting him do this because she’s worried that we’ll all get killed if he doesn’t; if I’m told to do it, I have to do it!”

 

  _Do what?_

  “Draco, calm yourself. Nothing will be happening soon, regardless. If a request is made of you, it won’t be for quite a long time.”

 

   “But…”

 

 Harry couldn’t make out what Malfoy said next. Snape gave a heavy sigh, then spoke again. “Draco, I cannot help you any more than I have already. What is to come has not yet come, and you cannot torture yourself by stressing about it endlessly.”

 

   “Can’t I?” Malfoy snapped. “I’m torturing myself already, why not make it worse.”

 Snape walked away from the ear, pulling Malfoy with him. Harry peeked through the glass in the door, but he couldn’t see enough to make out what Snape was telling him. He was wondering whether or not they should keep listening when Snape’s voice came back into hearing.

 

   “… Potter and his friends will be here in just a moment, you should leave before he gets here.”

 

 Harry gave a sudden yank on the Extendible Ear and it shot back out from under the door; the figures of Snape and Malfoy grew larger in the fogged window and the little group of four hastily scurried away from the door where they had been crouching, eavesdropping. The door opened and Harry turned the corner, pretending they had just gotten there.

 

   “Potter,” Snape said, inclining his head. Malfoy shot Harry a scowl and strode past them. Harry glanced over his shoulder, watching him go.

 

   “Potter, pay attention,” Snape snapped, causing Harry to jerk his gaze back to his hated Potions professor. “Follow me,” he said, gesturing them inside. Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand, and he was grateful not only for the moral support but for the warmth; the dungeons were freezing. He didn’t understand how the Slytherins lived down here.

 

   “Gather around,” Snape said coolly, leading them to a table at the very front of the room. There was already a wide, shallow cauldron set up over a low burning flame, as well as prepared ingredients.

 

   “Professor Dumbledore has instructed me to teach the four of you potions normally reserved for NEWT students who have selected Magical Law Enforcement as their career path,” Snape began, speaking in a tone of voice that made it plain that he would rather be dancing naked in a volcano to NSYNC than be teaching them that morning.

 

 Harry frowned, wondering where that thought had come from.

 

  “This morning you shall be concocting Veratiserum,” Snape told them. “I shall be observing you, instructions are on the board.” He waved his wand, and the board was lined with neatly lettered directions. Harry resisted the urge to glower. So, it would be just like normal Potions, only Snape would be focused wholly on them and the potion would be much harder.

 

  _Great,_ he thought.

 

 Over the next two hours, with Hermione in charge, the four of them performed each painstaking step to create Veratiserum. Snape hovered over them constantly, occasionally correcting them, however, he did not belittle them as he usually did. Harry noticed that even though he was always watching, he seemed distracted. He wondered if had anything to do with the talk he had had with Malfoy before they had arrived.

 

 When the final step had been completed, the potion suddenly sprang to a boil and the liquid inside became clear. Snape waved his wand and the fire beneath the cauldron went out. He stepped closer to the table, bending over the cauldron to inspect it.

 

   “An acceptable effort,” he said coldly. He waved his wand again, and the potion began pouring itself into vials. “I shall test these at a later date,” he said, adding with a sneer: “Dumbledore has rebutted my request to test the potions you make on the four of you, unfortunately.”

 

 Harry felt quite glad for that.

 

 Snape put his wand away, then gave them all a scowl. “Well, you are finished. Get out.”

 

 They did not need telling twice; they left the Potions classroom as quickly as possible. Harry glanced at Ginny, then over at Hermione and Luna.

 

   “So, anyone have a guess as to what we heard earlier?” Ginny asked.

 

   “It seems to me that Draco is stressed about his father being a Death Eater,” Luna mused.

 

 Harry frowned at her. “You know that?”

 

 She nodded. “It seems, also, that he’s being pressured to join.”

   “I wonder why he’s so upset about that,” Hermione scoffed. “He’s just as much of a blood purist as the rest.”

 

 Harry frowned as well. She had a point.

 

   “Perhaps he has become infested with Ukudida,” Luna mused.

 

 The other three looked at her. She raised an eyebrow. “It is a possibility. They cause their victim to begin questioning all their life choices, especially moral ones.”

 

   “Possibly,” Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

 

 Luna shrugged. “It could be Schwule Tendenzen.”

 

   “Maybe so,” Ginny said, “you never know.”

 

 Harry shook his head. He wasn’t sure what Schwule Tendenzen was, but he doubted it was an actual possibility.

 

 He didn’t question that Luna followed them into Gryffindor Tower; they found Ron and Neville in the common room, playing a game of chess that Neville looked increasingly regretful about.

 

  “Where are Dean and Seamus?” Harry asked them as he took an armchair; Ginny sat herself on his lap after he sat down.

 

 Ron looked up. “Oh, hey guys. Dunno.”

 

  “Dean said he was going to go work on homework,” Neville said, pausing to greet Luna with a quick kiss as she joined him on the couch. “I think Seamus went with him.”

 

 Ginny frowned. “Seamus went to go do homework? On a Sunday?”

 

 Ron shrugged. “Maybe Hermione’s rubbing off on him, who knows.”

 

 Hermione rolled her eyes. “Or he’s off chasing skirts again,” she said. “Move over,” she added to Ron; he shifted in his armchair so she could join him.

 

   “I don’t think he’s chasing skirts,” Luna mused.

 

   “Why?” Neville asked distractedly.

 

   “I just have a feeling,” Luna said, dropping her head onto Neville’s shoulder. Neville gave a nod, then moved his remaining knight. Ron clicked his tongue and took the knight.

 

   “Checkmate, mate,” he said.

 

 Neville threw his fists up and fell back on the couch. “Finally!” he cried. “I’m never playing chess with you again.”

 

 Ron shrugged. “You said that last time too.”

 

 Ginny sniggered. “Everyone says that, Ron.”

 

  “I only ever beat him once,” Hermione sighed.

 

 Ron glanced at her. “Yeah, yeah, just the once,” he said, smiling and shaking his head. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and Ron groaned dramatically. “You wound me!”

 

 Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, hush,” she said.

 

 Ginny glanced at Harry, raising an eyebrow. Harry raised his back. Ginny snorted.

 

   “What’s so funny?” Neville asked.

 

   “Nothing,” Harry said, smiling.

 

   “I swear, they’re practically telepathic sometimes,” Hermione said, and Ron choked back a laugh, covering it as a cough.

 

   “It’s a possibility,” Luna said.

 

 They all laughed again; Neville in earnest, Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny with delight at the ridiculous truth in her words.

 

 They left for dinner around five, finding Dean and Seamus already at dinner, the both of them seeming tired. Hermione commented on the multiple essays due the next day, to which Dean groaned and Seamus dropped his head onto the table and Harry asked her to not remind them of.

 

 Monday was indeed dull and dawned on exhausted students. There was a feeling in the air that could only be described as _November_ , where the students were itching for the winter break and relief from their mounting load of homework and sleep deprivation. The fifth and seventh years especially were stressed, with the looming deadline of OWLS and NEWTS in May seeming to come closer and closer with every class. Harry and Ginny did their best to get to bed before 11 that night, and succeeded by about ten minutes. Tuesday was just as long, though Tonks let them sleep in by half an hour before training as they were doing mostly spellwork these days, with the exception that the night ended with their weekly lesson with Dumbledore. They walked up to his office, arriving just after eight, with heavy feet and dulled minds.

 

   “Enter,” Dumbledore called, as he always did, when Harry banged the eagle knocker. He pushed the door open, letting Ginny go before him into the office. They took the seats that were before Dumbledore’s desk, trying not to appear too drained.

 

   “Long week?” Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eye.

 

 Harry laughed. “You could say,” he answered.

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “Then you shall be glad to know that we will not be practicing your Occlumency skills tonight.”

 

   “What are we doing instead?” Harry asked.

 

 Dumbledore pushed back his chair and stood. “We shall be delving into the murky realm of guesswork,” he said. “You remember the information we obtained last week from using the Ouija board with Mrs. Vance.”

 

   “Hard to forget it,” Harry said. “My – my mother said something about a warning, an attack. What did you find out?”

 

 Dumbledore inclined his head. “On your mother’s information, not much. Her warning was very vague, to no fault of her own, apparently, the strain of contacting the living is very great.”

 Harry’s gut lurched. He didn’t like the casual way Dumbledore spoke of the living contacting the dead.

 

   “What I was able to find out concerns the information given by Merope Riddle,” Dumbledore said. “Or, by her maiden name, Gaunt.”

 

   “What, then?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Merope, her father, and her brother were the last surviving Gaunts,” Dumbledore began. “Marvolo perished in the early 1920’s, and Merope’s brother, Morfin, died in Azkaban in 1943. Their family was said to be direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, and the name is listed among the anonymous publication of the same era, the Sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-blood Families.”

 

   “Sacred Twenty-Eight?” Harry said.

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “Yes, it is a list of the families determined by its author, who to this day is unknown, who are considered to be wholly magical and therefore, wholly pure.”

 

   “Potter isn’t on it,” Ginny said to Harry. “Weasley is.”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, the Gaunts were descendants of Slytherin himself?”

 

   “Supposedly,” Dumbledore answered. “However, due to this and the notion that to stay pure, one must marry within one’s own family, they were heavily inbred, and their fortune was lost long before Marvolo and his children were born.”

 

   “What about his wife?” Harry asked.

 

 Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “My research indicates that she was either his cousin or his sister. She died giving birth to Merope.”

 

 Harry grimaced; Ginny gave an involuntary shiver.

 

  _I can’t imagine being forced to marry one of my brothers…_ she thought.

 

  _Yeah, let’s not go there._

   “Moving on, the generations of inbreeding led to Marvolo having a very quick temper, which he passed onto his son, Morfin, and not much wit, which both of his children suffered.”

 

   “Merope’s ghost said she was abused,” Ginny said.

 

 Dumbledore nodded. “Records show that Marvolo at the very least physically abused his daughter, if not sexually as well. Her father considered her without worth, as her magic was severely suppressed by his own abuse of her, and therefore he abused her worse. She was treated as a slave rather than a child.”

 

 Harry said nothing. He felt like he could sympathize with her there.

 

   “Morfin was arrested in the fall of 1925 for attacking a Muggle in the village near his home, as well as several other charges, including assault of a Ministry employee,” Dumbledore continued. “When the then Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, one Bob Ogden, went to his home to arrest him, Marvolo reacted violently towards Ogden; the both of them acted deranged, and Morfin never spoke English, rather, in Parseltongue. While Ogden was there, the very same Muggle that Morfin had attacked rode past the family’s home with a female companion, and Morfin chose that moment to reveal to his father that he had attacked the Muggle because his sister Merope fancied him. Marvolo reacted by attempting to strangle his own daughter, whose life was saved by the rapid actions of Ogden.”

   “Wonder if Ogden ever knew that she would end up giving birth to the worst dark wizard in history,” Harry muttered.

 

 A flash of emotion crossed Dumbledore’s face, not long enough for Harry to determine what it was. Instead of responding, Dumbledore merely continued speaking. “Ogden came back with back up and both Morfin and Marvolo were arrested, Morfin I have said why, Marvolo for the abuse of his daughter and obstruction of justice in the case of his son. Morfin was given three years and Marvolo six months.”

 

   “What happened to Merope?” Ginny asked.

 

  “What little documentation there is shows that in the absence of her abusers, Merope’s magic flourished,” Dumbledore answered. “She later married the very same Muggle her brother had attacked, Tom Riddle.”

 

  “Voldemort’s father,” Harry said.

 

 Dumbledore nodded. “The marriage lasted less than a year. My guess was that she initially fed him a love potion, but for some reason ceased the administering of the love potion around March of 1926, as Tom returned to his parents’ home without his wife in early April of that same year. His claim was that she had tricked him somehow, many assuming that he meant she tricked him into thinking that she was pregnant with his child.”

 

  “Except she was,” Ginny said. “Tom was born December 31st, 1926.”

 

 Dumbledore again nodded. “Perhaps she thought that he would stay for the sake of their child, perhaps she thought that after several months together, he would have grown to love her on his own terms. Neither proved true, however, as he left her anyway. Likely, Merope ended up on the streets after that, she was forced to sell an old family heirloom in August of that year, and in December ended up at a Muggle orphanage in London, where she gave birth and died, much like her own mother.”

 

   “And Voldemort was born,” Harry said.

 

 Dumbledore shook his head. “No, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr., was born. The boy was still a child, he would not become the man he is now until much later in life.”

 

 Harry glanced down at his feet. “If someone gave me a time machine and told me to go kill him while he was still a kid, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

 

 Dumbledore did not reply immediately, rather, he inhaled deeply and fixed Harry with a calculating gaze. “Regardless, time machines of such a nature do not exist.”

 

 Harry looked away again. Something in Dumbledore’s tone made him think that Harry’s words had bothered him, but it was too faint to tell.

 

 Dumbledore inhaled and leaned forward in his chair. “The reason I have worked so hard to establish a timeline for Merope Gaunt is so that I could make establishing a timeline for Tom’s younger years easier, and it has. Now that I now his family history, I have been able to make two guesses at possible Horcruxes.

 

   “How many do you think he has?” Ginny asked.

 

 Dumbledore paused. “At least three, the diary, which has been destroyed, his snake, Nagini, and another that he created prior to his first disappearance. But the research I have done gives evidence that there be many more than that.”

 

 Ginny fixed Dumbledore with a cool eye. “I should try to look through the memories that I have to find out what his plans were.”

 

 Dumbledore pressed his lips together in a thin line; Harry glanced at Ginny, concerned. “I have thought of that,” Dumbledore confessed. “I am worried that it would be dangerous.”

 

   “It would be dangerous to assume that he has only a few Horcruxes and miss one,” Ginny said. “Tom left a lot of information in the diary, we should use it.”

 

 Dumbledore glanced between Harry and Ginny, then he sighed. “I will try to find a way to safely investigate the memories that were stored in the diary,” he said. “But I forbid you to attempt looking through them by yourself.”

 

  _You’d better listen to him, Gin._

_I will!_ Ginny thought irritatedly. _I’m not an idiot_.

 

   “For now, we will stick to what outside resources we have,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “So, what resources do we have?” Harry asked.

 

 Dumbledore set his hand on a stack of books next to him. “Student records, mostly, as well as employment records.”

 

   “He had a job?” Harry asked. “He didn’t just go straight to…?”

 

 Dumbledore shrugged. “I suppose crusades require great funding.”

 

 Harry gave a snort. “Sorry, it’s just it’s ridiculous to think of Voldemort working at a grocery store.”

 

   “He worked at Borgin and Burke’s,” Dumbledore said.

 

 Ginny wrinkled her nose. “That dank old shop in Knockturn Alley?”

 

   “The very same. It is the same shop, incidentally, that Merope sold her old family heirloom to when she was pregnant with Tom.”

 

   “What was it?” Harry asked.

 

   “An old locket,” Dumbledore answered. “Gold with emerald stones set in the front. Burke bought it from her for ten galleons, then sold it again to a collector by the name of Hephzibah Smith for 215 galleons.”

 

   “What?” Ginny gasped. “He stiffed her!”

   “She clearly had no clue how valuable it was,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “How was it so valuable that it was worth 215 galleons?” Harry asked.

 

   “It was said to have belonged to Salazar Slytherin.”

 

   “Oh,” Harry said.

 

 Dumbledore nodded. “Furthering this, after he sold it to Hephzibah, Burke tried many times to buy it back from her until her death in 1946, when it and another item from her collection vanished.”

 

   “Did he send Voldemort to try and convince her to sell it?” Harry asked.

 

   “He did,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “What was the other item?” Ginny asked, leaning forward in her seat.

 

   “A golden goblet bearing the crest of Helga Hufflepuff.”

   “He was collecting things that belonged to the founders?” Harry asked.

 

   “It is highly possible,” Dumbledore said. “The locket, the cup; both would have been a great snub to the ideals of Hogwarts if made into Horcruxes.”

 

   “So he probably had four,” Harry said.

 

   “He may have had even five,” Dumbledore answered. “In the summer of 1943, Tom left the orphanage where he was still living for nearly a month, and when he returned, he had with him an old ring.”

 

   “Why do you think that it was a Horcrux?” Harry asked.

 

   “Two reasons,” Dumbledore said. “In the summer of 1943, Morfin Gaunt was released from Azkaban and returned to his family home. A month later, he was arrested again by the Ministry for the murder of three Muggles, Thomas Riddle, his wife, and his son, Tom. When the Ministry came to collect him, he very easily admitted to the murders, but wouldn’t answer questions as to why, when or how. His only concern was that he had somehow lost his father’s ring.”

 

   “You think Voldemort killed them and charmed Morfin to think that he had done it?” Harry asked.

 

   “Indeed,” Dumbledore replied. “The description of Marvolo’s ring matches very closely to the one that Tom returned to school with for his sixth year.”

 

   “So, that’s three possible Horcruxes,” Harry said. “But where would he even hide them?”

 

Dumbledore patted the thick stack of books. “I have several possible locations compiled,” he answered.

 

   “But when you find one, what will you do?”

 

   “Retrieve and destroy it,” he said.

 

   “Could we come with you?” Harry asked.

 

 Dumbledore hesitated. “It would be very dangerous, Harry.”

 

   “But we could help,” he insisted. “Please, professor.”

 

 Dumbledore inhaled slowly through his nose and exhaled in a sigh. “I will consider it,” he said finally.

 

 The clock atop the fireplace suddenly chimed nine o’clock, causing both Harry and Ginny to start in their seats. He hadn’t thought their conversation had lasted so long. Dumbledore rose from his chair and indicated that they should too. “We shall resume at eight o’clock again next week, barring no emergency or American crisis,” Dumbledore added with a smile. “Good night.”

 

   “Good night,” Harry and Ginny echoed, leaving. Harry pulled the door closed behind him and took Ginny’s hand as they descended down to the exit to the fourth floor.

 

   “I can’t picture Voldemort working in a shop,” Ginny said with a sigh. “I just can’t.”

 

   “I can’t picture Voldemort as a teenager at all,” Harry said. “It’s like he just came into existence horrible and snakelike.”

 

 Ginny shrugged. “He was a handsome teenager,” she murmured. “Frighteningly charming.”

 

 Harry glanced at her. “Don’t go into those memories,” he murmured. “You know what happened last time.”

 

 She nodded. “I know, I know, I just… we could have known about all this long ago.”

 

 Harry squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault, Gin. Don’t beat yourself up.”

 

   “Hmm, thanks, that’s so encouraging.”

 

   “You’re welcome, love.”

 

   “You’re not thanked,” Ginny replied snarkily, shoving him gently with her shoulder. Harry laughed, dropping her hand, and threw an arm around her waist, drawing her in and pressing a kiss to her temple.

 

  _I love you_ , he thought.

 

_I love you, too._

 

Upon reaching Gryffindor tower and entering the common room, they parted at the dormitories to travel up separately to their room. Harry reached their door first, choosing intentionally to wait outside for Ginny. Abruptly, Hollins’s door opened and Greenley stepped out looking frazzled.

 

  “Oh,” she said. “Erm, hi.”

 

   “Hi,” Harry said. Greenley was wearing pajamas and a dressing gown, which she pulled tightly about herself quickly. She hesitated, then nodded and hurried through the door to the girls’ stairs, passing Ginny as she did. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Harry, who shrugged.

 

 Hollins stuck her head out of her room. “Did Meredith go downstairs?” she asked, looking at the door to the girls’ stairs.

 

   “Um, yes?” Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

 

   “Dammit,” Hollins muttered and slammed her door. Harry shrugged at Ginny.

 

   “Who knows,” Ginny sighed, opening their door. Harry followed her in, closing their door behind them. As usual, Ginny went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea while Harry dropped onto the sofa and picked up _Two Towers_.

 

   “Maybe they’re fighting,” Ginny said from the kitchen.

 

   “Who, Merry and Pippin?” Harry asked, pausing mid-sentence.

 

   “No, Greenley and Hollins,” Ginny answered. “Greenley looked upset.”

 

   “Are you gossiping?” Harry asked her.

 

   “Maybe,” Ginny said with a snooty sniff. “It’s not that strange.”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you going to start sitting with Lavender and Parvati again?”

 

   “No,” Ginny answered. “But I have been chatting with Alicia from time to time. It’s nice to know what’s going on around Hogwarts, y’know, especially to know what people are saying about us.”

 

   “Good for you,” Harry said, finding their place again.

 

 Ginny returned from the kitchen with two mugs, his Earl Gray and hers Raspberry Leaf. Harry took his from her gratefully and took a small sip as she settled herself on the sofa with him, her back to his chest and her arm resting on his knee. Harry gave his wand a wave and caused the book to levitate in front of him so he could wrap one arm around her waist and hold his tea with the other hand.

 

 Ginny let her head fall back and rest on his clavicle. “This is nice,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

 

   “Don’t fall asleep,” Harry warned her. “I don’t want to have to re-read another section.”

 

 Ginny waved a hand fitfully. “Hush,” she admonished him softly. Harry rolled his eyes and continued to read. Ginny finished her tea and sat up to place the mug on the coffee table, then settled back and adjusted her position. Harry paused reading again until she had stopped moving, then picked up again where he had stopped. Ginny took the book out of the air, taking over so that he could finish his tea. As Ginny read, her hand came to rest on the top of his thigh, and her fingers began to trace little patterns into the leg of his trousers. When Harry finished his tea, she took it from him and leaned away to set it on the coffee table, as she did, her jumper rode up to expose the small of her back. Harry glanced away, then back, but Ginny had already sat up again and was shifting in her position to snuggle back against his chest. When her hand went back to tracing circles on his leg, he grabbed it to stop it. Ginny glanced over her shoulder at him.

 

   “What?” she asked innocently.

 

   “Nothing,” he said. “Just, erm, just keep reading.”

 

 Ginny gave him a smile. “Sure, dear,” she said sarcastically. She leaned back again and picked up the book again. Ginny tucked her head under his chin, her thumb rubbing against the back of his hand. Her voice was soft as she read, occasionally she would yawn. Harry’s eyelids began to droop and Ginny slowed in her reading.

 

 She closed the book and set it on the coffee table, her jumper again riding up. Harry pulled her back to him and linked his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Ginny leaned her head back onto his, her eyes shut. Harry let his head rest against her forehead, absently pressing a kiss to her cheek, then one to her jaw. Ginny giggled slightly, his breath was tickling her neck.

 

   “We should go to bed,” Harry murmured.

 

   “No, I don’t want to move,” Ginny answered. She shifted, turning slightly to cuddle him better. “Nice and warm,” she added quietly, her voice falling on his neck and causing his skin to prick. Her hand came to rest on his chest, her fingers crossing the neckline of his shirt.

 

   “If we, erm, fall asleep here, though,” Harry reminded her, “we’ll regret it in the morning.”

 

 Ginny sighed heavily. Her hand patted his chest, but she stayed still. “Okay, dear.”

 

 Harry dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, letting her remain there for a while. He figured it wouldn’t hurt if they stayed for a minute or two. Ginny began absently playing with the neck of his shirt, brushing his skin. Her breathing fell on his neck. Harry closed his eyes, enjoying the tickling sensation. Ginny pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, her fingers still brushing his skin. She shifted, turning to face him better. Her lips found his pulse, pressing a soft kiss to his neck, and Harry’s heart sped up. Ginny pressed another gentle kiss to the side of his neck, then brought her mouth to his ear.

 

   “Let’s just stay here a while,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his skin. Harry murmured an ascent, his hands locking around her waist. Ginny kissed his ear, then her lips closed around his earlobe, sucking softly. Her teeth closed gently on it, then her mouth moved down again, to his jaw. She kissed along it, her lips brushing gently and eliciting heat from each spot she touched. Harry felt her hands at his chest, her palms pressing against his shirt and sliding down to his waist. Harry caught her lips in a kiss, but she stole away again and kissed his neck. He felt her lips part and her tongue brush against his skin, then she began to suck gently, drawing from him a quiet sound. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, pushing up and under it; he gasped a little, her hands were cold but his skin felt very warm beneath them. Ginny moved her hands back up to his chest as she dragged her lips farther down his neck.

 

 She pulled back, her eyes wide. Harry knew his face was flushed and he was breathing hard, but he could swear he got redder as he realized that she could feel him reacting. A smile grew on Ginny’s face, then she laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

 

   “We should go to bed,” she said quietly, then got up. Harry scrambled to a sitting position and leaned forward as Ginny left for their bedroom. He rubbed his face and sighed. Then he chuckled, smiling. Christmas couldn’t come any faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congratulations! readers here are now caught up to FFnet, which means updates are now going to be every two weeks or so. the next update, luckily enough, is scheduled for later this weekend so you don't have to wait too long.


	51. Poof, Married

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So, how’s y’all’s 2017 going so far? Mine’s been pretty hectic. On another note, if you guys wanna find me on tumblr, I’m senatorofsorcery (original, I know). I’ve actually found a few readers on tumblr and followed them already bc the idea that there are real humans out there enjoying my writing is weird and amazing and incredible to me. So, yeah, thanks for being real humans who enjoy my writing._

**Chapter Fifty-One**

**Poof, Married**

**Harry**

 

 The rest of the week slowed to a dull crawl, the weary air of November infecting even the professors. Tonks let them off the hook for training on Saturday again, not saying why precisely, so Harry and Ginny slept in until nearly nine. They had breakfast in the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione, then met up with Neville and Luna to walk to Professor McGonagall’s office for their next session of Animagus training. Sirius was absent this time, while McGonagall stood in the center of her office.

 

   “Gather round,” McGonagall said, wasting no time in starting. “Sit.”  


 There were no chairs in the room. Harry looked around, but McGonagall raised her eyebrows; he sat on the floor. As did the others, and McGonagall began to talk once again.

 

   “We shall begin with your transformation attempts,” she told them. “To start, I ask that each of you sit cross-legged, setting your palms on your knees face up. Close your eyes and slow your breathing.”

 

 Harry blinked. “Are we meditating?” he asked.

 

   “Yes,” McGonagall told him. “Go on.”

 

 Harry shifted, setting his hands palm-up on his knees, and shut his eyes.

 

_If she starts telling us to clear our minds and focus on our transformations, I’m calling hokey._

   “Clear your minds,” McGonagall said. “Focus on the image of your form.”

 

  _You gonna call her on her hokey?_

_Shut up, Harry._

 

 Harry envisioned the empty, white room once again and tried to focus on his Animagus form. Then he frowned.

 

_Gin?_

_Yeah?_

_Which form should we think about?_

_I think the ones that talked directly to us._

_So, you’re definitely the fluffy pink cat?_

_Oh, shut up._

 

 Harry smirked and called to mind the image of the long black snake that had talked to him during their mushroom induced vision.

 

  _Heh, mushrooms._

 

   “Focus on your form. Look it in the eye and study it. Concentrate on its shape, its markings, the differences between yourself and it.”

 

 Harry tried to think of something other than the obvious difference between himself and the snake.

 

   “In your mind, picture yourself and your form merging, then speak the incantation _Ego Reformabit_.”

 

 Harry imagined his body elongating and shrinking into that of the snake’s. In a murmur that was echoed by his friends, Harry whispered: “ _Ego Reformabit._ ”

 

  “Continue to focus on your Animagus form, and stretch your legs out before you.”

 

Harry obeyed.

 

  “They are now the legs of your form. Speak the incantation and concentrate on turning your legs into that of your animal.”

 

 Harry tried to imagine that he felt his feet going numb, melting together into one limb, he spoke the incantation and concentrated on the tail of his form.

 

  “Continue to do so until you can feel some change.”

 

 Harry repeated over and over, “ _Ego Reformabit_ , _Ego Reformabit_ ,” for what felt like ages. McGonagall told them to keep their eyes shut until she bade them look around, occasionally offering a word of encouragement as her voice circled the room. Harry lost track of the times he had whispered the incantation and even of what exactly transforming his legs was meant to feel like as he repeated it over and over.

 

   “Open your eyes.”

 

 Harry blinked, then squeezed his eye closed at the sudden light. He glanced around, his gaze being immediately caught by the sight of two bright pink paws at the end of Ginny’s legs; he looked around more, Ron had shaggy brown paws as well, his of a dog rather than a cat, Hermione had talons poking out of her robes that she looked completely shocked about, Neville’s feet had turned into dark brown fur covered paws, Luna’s were white and dog-like. Harry turned his eyes on his own feet and his jaw dropped. His feet had vanished, replaced by a fat, scale-covered tail.

 

   “Good job, all of you,” McGonagall said, standing in front of Harry. “Now, close your eyes again and imagine the reverse; your feet becoming human once more. The same incantation.”

 

 Harry tried to wiggle his toes, or rather the end of the tail. The tail tip flicked. He swallowed, disconcerted by it, and shut his eyes again. He concentrated, speaking the incantation as he imagined his feet turning into human feet once again.

 

 Sometime later, McGonagall instructed them to open their eyes. Harry immediately looked to his legs, and sighed in relief when he saw that his feet were normal once more.

 

   “This concludes today’s lesson,” McGonagall said. “Go on to lunch, you should expect to be exceptionally hungry this afternoon.”

 

 Harry pushed himself up; his feet tingled slightly. “Have a good afternoon, professor,” he said as he backed away to the door. The others echoed his words and the group left the Transfiguration teacher’s office, walking together towards the Great Hall. Harry checked his watch, and, seeing that it was nearly one o’clock, figured that the dining hall wouldn’t be too full; when they arrived, he was proved right. The Gryffindor table was about half full, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables nearly deserted, and the Hufflepuff table carrying pockets of its students here and there. The group took seats near the end of the table, Ron already serving himself chicken and potatoes before everyone else had even settled themselves. Harry found that McGonagall had been right, the minute he smelled the food, he felt his stomach clench with hunger and his mouth begin to water. Harry, for once, didn’t blame Ron for starting quickly.

 

   “Hey,” Luna said suddenly. “Look.”

 

 Harry glanced up, to see her pointing towards the Slytherin table. He turned around, following her finger, but didn’t see anything of interest.

 

   “What?” he said, looking back to Luna.

 

   “Malfoy,” she said. “He’s alone.”

 

 Harry turned around again, and saw that she was, in fact, right; Malfoy sat with his back to the Gryffindor table at the other end of the hall, completely alone. Harry looked up and down the Slytherin table and saw Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott sitting farther down with Pansy Parkinson and a few other students who had their back to them. Harry glanced back to Malfoy, frowning.

 

   “I wonder why he’s by himself,” Luna murmured.

 

   “You don’t think…” Hermione said.

 

   “Wha’?” Ron asked, then swallowed. “Think what?”

 

   “Last Saturday,” Harry began, “when we went to the dungeons for extra Potions, Malfoy was talking to Snape. We used one of Fred and George’s new Extendable Ears to eavesdrop…”

 

   “And Malfoy was really upset about something,” Hermione said as Harry left his sentence incomplete. “He talked about his father and how he wanted him to do something Malfoy didn’t want to do.”

 

  “We figured that old Lucius wants Junior to join the Death Eaters,” Harry said, turning away. “But why Malfoy would be upset about it, I don’t know.”

 

 Ron frowned, looking at the Slytherin table. “Strange,” he murmured.

 

   “What?” Ginny asked.

 

 Ron shrugged. “I dunno, I just heard that he was acting weird, too. I mean, Fred and George weren’t kidding about him when they said he was snapping at everyone, I saw him yelling at Crabbe and Goyle over nothing on my way to the kitchens the other day.”

 

   “I wonder why,” Hermione murmured.

 

   “Maybe he’s just showing his true colors,” Neville said. “Let’s not muse about the meaning behind the actions of a bully, shall we?”  


   “Right, yeah,” Harry said, though it still bothered him. What was so wrong that even Malfoy was anxious?

 

 Sunday was spent half sleeping half doing homework, then on Monday Harry fell asleep five minutes into History of Magic, only to be woken up by Hermione not long before the end of class with a judgmental look. On Tuesday, Dumbledore had them practicing Occlumency again, apparently having no new information on Voldemort’s Horcruxes. Angelina held Quidditch practice on Wednesday and Thursday nights, and on Friday they went to bed early. Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend, and they went to get Christmas shopping done. On Sunday morning, Harry woke up around seven to see snow fluttering past their bedroom window.

 

 December began with increasing flurries of snow; by the first weekend of the month, there was at least two feet of snow on the grounds. That Monday, the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins trudged outside bundled in several layers of robes for Care of Magical Creatures just to trudge back inside as Hagrid informed them that the salamanders he had gotten for them to study had died because of the cold. It didn’t stop on Tuesday either, and Herbology was canceled for the week as Professor Sprout wanted to focus exclusively on keeping the plants alive in the blizzard with the help of several of her best students, which included Neville. By Wednesday morning, Harry was casting warming charms on his socks before he put his feet in them, and they kept a fire going in the grate at all times. Ginny’s mother sent a letter on Friday saying that she agreed to Harry’s request to eliminate outsiders from the wedding. She found the idea of the twins DJ’ing for the wedding comical, however, and said she would contact a cousin of hers for the job, though having Colin Creevey be the photographer seemed reasonable to her. The weekend brought more Charms training in healing charms and Tonks told them they would be halting training for December while she dealt with some issues after leaving America.

 

 The semester ended on the twenty-second, the Friday before Christmas. Harry’s nerves were a jumble as the week came closer and closer to an end; on Tuesday morning, he and Ginny sat down with Colin to discuss what he would do for the wedding and how much they would pay him. Harry had said the going rate, and according to Mrs. Weasley, that was between 200 and 300 galleons, and though he had offered Colin 300, the younger boy said 250 would be fine.

 

   “I don’t know what I would even do with 300 galleons,” Colin said with a nervous laugh.

 

 On Wednesday, he and Ginny ate dinner with Remus and Sirius again, which Harry sensed was because Sirius could tell that his nerves were becoming fried. Remus made another frozen lasagna, which Harry thought was delicious even though it wasn’t from scratch. They returned to the common room around 8, walking hand in hand and feeling rather full.

 

   “Juniper leaves,” Ginny said to the Fat Lady’s portrait.

 

   “Good luck in there,” the Fat Lady said with raised eyebrows.

 

   “Why?” Ginny asked, frowning, but the Fat Lady just shook her head and swung forward. Harry and Ginny exchanged looks.

 

  _What do you want to bet that it’s Seamus and his silly hen/stag night mess?_ Ginny asked as she stepped forward.

 

  _Ten galleons,_ Harry thought.

 

 They moved through the hole into the common room, which was devoid of life. Harry and Ginny stared around suspiciously.

 

   “SURPRISE!” screamed what seemed like the entirety of Gryffindor house as they jumped out from behind couches and tables and random furniture. Harry and Ginny managed to start enough at the sound that Harry guessed that they looked surprised enough.

 

   “HAPPY HEN SLASH STAG NIGHT!” shouted Seamus, throwing his arms around their shoulders. Ginny mentally handed Harry ten galleons.

 

   “You shouldn’t have,” Harry laughed in reply to Seamus, who squeezed their shoulders.

 

   “Course I should’ve,” Seamus said. “What did you expect? Come on, party games and drinks and food this way!”

 

 Their stag/hen night turned out to be another typical Gryffindor party: Butterbeer and even some stronger alcohols were passed around in plentiful, the kitchens had been raided for pastries and snack foods, someone had set up a radio that was playing rock music; the only exception were the bachelor/bachelorette themed games. Seamus managed to juggle them quite well, Harry thought, keeping the stag part to one half of the common room and the hen part to the other. Harry, however, was simply grateful for the lack of a false cake with a stripper inside. He wasn’t sure how Seamus would have even gotten one, but he was sure that if he could have, Seamus would have.

 

 Harry and Ginny managed to sneak out around one in the morning, as Seamus had vanished after drinking quite the helping of firewhiskey and wasn’t around to show them to the next event. The silence of their room after the noise of the common room was heavenly.

 

   “I love Seamus dearly,” Ginny sighed, “but I’m glad that you only get one hen night.”  


   “Same,” Harry murmured. Then he spotted the stack of wrapped gifts on the coffee table. “What’s this?” he said, moving to the couch and dropping onto it.

 

   “Presents,” Ginny said, following him and picking one up.

 

   “There’s a note,” Harry said, spotting a piece of paper on the table. He unfolded it, then snorted. “Listen to this. _Dear Harry and Ginny, I expect that you will have snuck out of the party without saying goodnight; Seamus means well, but this whole thing is not your cup of tea (Harry)._ ”

 

 Ginny snorted. “True,” she said.

 

 Harry continued. “ _So, I figured that it would be best to leave your gifts up here rather than have you open them in front of everyone. There’s a few for Harry, but traditionally, just the bride receives gifts. Enjoy! Love, Hermione._ ”

 

 Ginny looked over the box in her hands. “This one’s for you,” she said, handing it to Harry.

 

 He took it and checked the tag. “ _To Harry, with love from Angelina, Katie, and Alicia._ I didn’t expect them to get me anything,” he said, pulling off the paper. He immediately went bright red at the box’s label while Ginny fell over laughing. “Gee, I’ve always wanted a jumbo box of condoms,” he muttered, tossing it onto the armchair. Ginny, still laughing, almost fell off the sofa until Harry grabbed her arm. “Shut up,” he said to her, still bright red in the face.

 

   “Remind me to kiss all three of them tomorrow,” Ginny said, wiping tears from her cheeks. “The look on your face!”

 

 Harry grabbed a gift bag and shoved it at her. “Just open your gifts,” Harry muttered, looking for another one. Ginny, still chuckling, pulled out the tissue paper in her gift bag and burst out laughing again. “What?” Harry asked, looking over at Ginny. She handed him the bag and Harry looked down into it. “It’s from Angelina, Katie, and Alicia, too, isn’t it?” Harry asked, checking for a label. “Yep, to Ginny with love. What on earth do we need edible massage oil for?”

 

 Ginny shook her head, red in the face from laughing. “It’s – it’s not for massages, Harry.”

 

 Harry felt his blush double and he quickly put the bag in the chair. “Never mind,” he said hastily. “Are there any more gifts from them?” He checked the pile quickly, and finding none, grabbed the next addressed to him, this one from Fred and George. Ginny was too busy laughing to get her next gift, so he opened this one by himself. Harry pulled a pair of fuzzy, pink handcuffs from the bag and looked at them in horror.

 

 Ginny took one look at them and nearly died laughing. Harry wished he knew a jinx to calm someone instead of making them laugh, but he didn’t, so he threw the handcuffs to the other side of the room and grabbed his next gift.

 

   “Stop laughing and unwrap things,” Harry said to Ginny.

 

   “Your face!” she guffawed.

 

   “Those were from the twins!”

 

   “Still!”

 

 Harry grabbed a gift bag and shoved it at her. “Here, this one’s from Hermione.”

 

 Ginny only half paid attention, because she was still chuckling, and pulled the paper from the bag. She looked down into it, then her laughter stifled. “Oh. Oh, my,” she murmured. Harry frowned.

 

   “What?” he asked, leaning in.

 

   “No, no, nope!” Ginny pushed him back, then shoved the tissue paper back in the bag. “Not now!”

 

   “What is it?” Harry asked again, trying to look into her mind, but Ginny hid the thought from him. “What?” he demanded.

 

   “I expect you’ll find out in two weeks,” Ginny muttered, hiccupping. Harry caught a few words from her thoughts and blushed, then tried to appear serious.

 

   “You know that about half of the stuff for you is bound to be lingerie,” Harry said to Ginny.

 

   “Probably,” Ginny sighed, then hiccupped again. “Oh, damn, now I’m hiccupping.”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed another package. “Yours,” he said, giving it to her. He dug around until he found the rest of the gifts for him, which came out to only three, one from Ron, one from Neville, Seamus, and Dean, and one from Sirius and Remus. The one from Ron was a book titled _Twelve Ways to Charm Witches_ , from the other guys, unoriginally, a second box of condoms, and from Sirius and Remus, two little booklets with two passports. Harry opened the booklets and raised his eyebrows.

 

   “Plane tickets?” he said.

 

 Ginny looked up. “What are those?” she asked.

 

 Harry found a note in the bottom of the bag and read it. “Oh,” he said. “Okay, here, listen: _Harry, as your godfather, I figured it was my responsibility to ensure that you and your wife had the best honeymoon experience with the fewest reporters around as possible. These plane tickets are to Sydney, Australia, which happens to be one of the most Muggle cities in the world. You leave on the 26 th of December from London Airport, I rented out a beach house and the beach attached – in your name with your money, Harry –, you have first class seating, and you return on the 6th of January._”

 

   “We’re going to Australia?” Ginny gasped.

 

 Harry laughed, looking down at the plane tickets. “I’ve always wanted to see Australia,” Harry said. He looked up at Ginny. “This should be excellent.”

 

 Ginny smiled. “Yes, it should. Now, move over so I can finish opening my lingerie.”

 

 Harry rolled his eyes, leaning back on the couch while Ginny opened the remaining gifts; the majority of them were lingerie, which she wouldn’t let him see, unfortunately in his opinion. Harry also tried not to let her realize how badly he wanted to see her in them.

 

 Ginny glanced back at him with a smirk. She knew. Harry flushed and looked away.

 

   “That’s the last of it,” Ginny said finally. “Who knew so many people wanted to make sure I had fancy underwear.”

 

 Harry shrugged. “I’d like to make sure you have fancy underwear for the rest of your life.”

 

 Ginny looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Harry snorted, then leaned in and kissed her. “It is ten past two, and technically Thursday. Let’s go to bed.”

 

   “Fine,” Ginny sighed. “Let me put all this away.”

 

 Harry got up from the couch and walked towards their bedroom, but stepped on something halfway there. He paused, looking down, then he heaved a heavy sigh and picked up the fuzzy handcuffs.

 

   “Remind me to hex Fred and George later,” Harry said to Ginny. Ginny looked up and snorted.

 

  “Don’t knock it until you try it,” she said, turning away. Harry went red and quickly walked away; he threw the handcuffs into his trunk and tried to forget they existed. He brushed his teeth, then changed while Ginny went into the bathroom to use the toilet and brush her own teeth. Harry got into bed and lay back, staring up at the ceiling. He had no clue what sort of things Ginny had gotten, but he could imagine.

 

   “Easy there, darling,” Ginny said as she exited the bathroom. “You’ll have to get a cold shower.”

 

 Harry turned red again and pushed those thoughts away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Ginny only smiled and kissed his cheek.

 

   “Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s yourself you’ll be making miserable.”

 

 With that, she turned the lights out and settled down to bed. Harry grumbled to himself as he shifted to get more comfortable. He wouldn’t make himself miserable.

 

 The next morning, Harry had to take a cold shower. Ginny thought the whole thing was very amusing. Harry thought Christmas had to hurry up and come. All day on Thursday, Harry couldn’t keep his focus on anything but the next Monday; he was reprimanded twice by McGonagall, three times by Flitwick, and eight times by Sirius who kept sniggering at him. Harry subtly gave Sirius the finger by pushing up his glasses nearer the end of class, which caused his godfather to have to stifle his laughter in a cough. On Friday, Harry woke up long before the alarm with his nerves buzzing like he’d just stuck his finger in a live socket. It was a half day, with the train leaving after lunch for King’s Cross. Ginny kept telling Harry to stop bouncing his leg, or he’d vibrate right out of his robes. They met Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Harry’s grandmother at the station, then drove back to Ottery St. Catchpole, stopping for dinner at the very same diner that Harry and Ginny had first met five years ago.

 

 Saturday was spent cleaning house, Sunday was spent setting up the backyard. Harry and Ginny went to bed Sunday night knowing that their lives would entirely different by the next day.

 

   “Oi!” Ron’s voice jerked Harry from sleep. “Presents!”

 

 Harry opened his eyes, looking around. His heart lurched as he remembered that it was Christmas, then a grin broke out on his face and he shook Ginny’s shoulder. “Gin, wake up.”  


 Ginny waved a hand. “Go back to sleep, Harry,” she muttered.

 

   “Ginny, today’s our wedding day.”

 

   “It can be our wedding day in ten minutes,” Ginny mumbled, rolling over. Harry rolled his eyes.

 

   “There’s also Christmas presents, apparently.”

 

 Ginny sighed, turning to face him. “What time is it?”

 

 Harry glanced at the clock. “Quarter past seven.”

 

 Ginny snorted. “Of course, we’re getting up at quarter past seven,” she muttered, throwing the blankets off her legs and getting up. Harry scowled.

  

   “Oh, so you’ll get up for gifts but not for our wedding?”

 

 Ginny waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, hush, Harry, the wedding isn’t until, like, seven o’clock.”  


   “Six thirty!”

 

 Ginny just shrugged on her dressing gown and left the room. Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed his slippers.

 

 Downstairs, the family was already gathered. Hermione was laying on one of the couches with her feet in Ron’s lap, looking like she was still asleep, while Ron looked like he was about to bounce out of his skin. Fred and George were sitting on the floor by the tree with wide eyes, Percy, Bill, and Charlie sat on another couch with their eyelids drooping, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were the only ones who seemed fully awake other than Ron.

 

  “We’ve got to wait for Tonks, Sirius, and Remus,” Mrs. Weasley said before Harry could even open his mouth.

 

 Ginny looked at Harry. “We didn’t even have to get up!”

 

 Then the fire flared green and Sirius stepped out with Tonks on his arm, the both of them still wearing pajamas, plaid trousers and a loose gray shirt for Tonks, lurid green Grinch-themed pants and an old looking jumper for Sirius. “Morning, all!” Sirius called.

 

   “Don’t shout in my ear!” Tonks protested, yanking her arm out of Sirius’s. “Molly, do you have coffee?”

 

   “Yes, dear, in the kitchen,” Mrs. Weasley answered. “How are you?”

 

   “Exhausted,” Tonks mumbled. “Oh, and do you have any Christmas cookies?”

 

   “Enough with the Christmas cookies!” Sirius groaned. Mrs. Weasley shushed him, putting her arm around Tonks and leading her into the kitchen. Sirius huffed and flopped onto an armchair.

 

   “Where’s Remus?” Harry asked his godfather, taking a seat on the floor.

 

   “He’s getting dressed,” Sirius said. “Apparently, he disapproves of going places in his pajamas.”

 

 The fire flared again and Remus exited the Floo. Sirius looked up. “See!” he pointed to Remus’s slacks and horrific Santa-themed sweater.

 

   “I’m festive, Sirius, hush,” Remus told him. Remus then pulled from his pocket a small red pouch, which he tapped with his wand and enlarged magically. “It goes with my bag,” Remus added with a grin as he held out the large sack of gifts. They laughed as Remus set it by the tree and took a seat with Sirius. Mrs. Weasley and Tonks reappeared from the kitchen, Tonks holding a plate of cookies and a cup of coffee.

 

   “Alright, Fred, George, you can start handing out presents,” Mrs. Weasley called.

 

 Fred and George immediately started tossing presents out from beneath the tall Christmas tree out to the waiting recipients at a practiced break-neck speed.

 

   “Don’t throw them!” Mrs. Weasley scolded as she caught a gift bag that had almost sailed past her face.

 

  “Sorry, Mum!” George called back, tossing a gift to Ron. Ginny dropped down next to Fred and started digging under the tree and handing out presents as well, then Fred paused to start unwrapping his pile. As Harry began collecting his gifts, he listened to the others coos and laughs and cries of happiness as they unwrapped theirs. Harry kept an eye out for the gifts he had given people, smiling when they were pleased. Mr. Weasley thanked him profusely for the model train Harry had given him, Ron cried aloud: “Wicked!” as he unwrapped his brand-new set of Keeper’s gear, Mrs. Weasley hugged him when she found her set of Celestina Warbeck records. Ginny had addressed gifts to Bill, Charlie, and Percy for him, as he didn’t know them as well, but the three of them all thanked him gratuitously. Sirius gave a loud bark of laughter as he unwrapped his gift of _The Husband’s Guide to Domestic Magic_ , to which Remus actually hugged Harry, grinning with delight until he opened his, which was the matching copy to Sirius’s, _The Wife’s Guide to Domestic Magic_ , and Tonks told Harry that he was “a doll” after she opened her gift, which was a new wand holster, seeing as hers had been damaged while she’d been in America.

 

 On the flip side, Harry received equally amazing gifts. From Hermione, a rather excellent broom maintenance kit, from Ron a working model Quidditch pitch, from Ginny’s oldest brothers a set of spell-books, from Sirius and Remus a Christmas jumper that was just as hideous as Remus’s – Harry put it on immediately –, from Tonks a spell-repellent jacket that looked quite snazzy, Harry thought. Ginny gave him pajamas, she explained, because he was always complaining about being cold. Harry waited for her to open her gift to act smug, as he’d given her socks.

 

   “Thank you, dear, I love them,” Ginny chuckled, kissing his cheek.

 

 As the presents beneath the tree thinned and Ginny’s brothers began to complain about being hungry, Ginny pulled out the last gift, which had hidden itself near the base of the tree.

 

   “It’s yours, Harry,” she said, handing it to him. Harry took it and examined it, seeing that it was from Ginny’s parents, then ripped off the paper. It was a book, and as he turned it over to look at the front cover, he laughed. It was _The Husband’s Guide to Domestic Magic_.

 

   “Thanks, mum and dad,” Harry said to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

 

   “You’re welcome,” Mrs. Weasley answered, looking at Ginny.

 

 Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder, as Remus had booted him out of the armchair and he was now seated on the floor. “We husbands are given far too little credit, Harry.”

 

   “Yeah, definitely,” Harry replied, laughing, “I do more house-work than Ginny.”

 

   “Then give the book to her, we all know who wears the pants in your relationship, anyway,” Ron said.

 

   “Hey!” Harry protested while Ginny and the others laughed.

 

   “Ron, don’t be mean to your brother-in-law,” Mrs. Weasley said as she wagged a scolding finger in his direction. “Now, breakfast!”

 

 The Weasley boys and Ginny all gave cries of “About time!” and “Finally!” or things similar as the group got up and moved to the dining room. Mrs. Weasley immediately began passing out food, using her wand to direct the meal like a conductor at an orchestra. Harry sat between Ginny and Tonks, across from Remus and Sirius, and as such was barely given a moment to eat with all the laughter they caused.

 

 After breakfast, at about eleven o’clock, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione ushered Ginny back up to her room, followed by a less enthusiastic Tonks and her plate of Christmas cookies – “You keep eating those, you’re going to end up looking like you’re pregnant!” Sirius called after her, to which she replied: “Shut up, you fat, old fart!” Sirius laughed very hard at that. Harry followed them as well as he had nothing else to do. According to Mrs. Weasley, Ginny would need from that moment until the start of the ceremony to get ready, Ginny disagreed privately, but she wouldn’t let her mother know that. Harry dropped onto their bed while the girls started fussing about and getting Ginny ready and opened _Two Towers_.

 

  _Oh, good, at least I’ll have something to listen to._

_My thoughts precisely._

 

   “Erm, is Harry s’posed to be in here?” Tonks asked Mrs. Weasley.

 

   “Ignore him,” Mrs. Weasley told her. “He’ll hang around until Arthur comes to fetch him.”

 

 Tonks shrugged and popped the last bite of her cookie into her mouth.

 

 Harry nearly finished _Two Towers_ before Mr. Weasley came to get him and was feeling quite nervous. Ginny felt it too, but she was handling it much differently, by making quips and comments about everything from the characters to what the women around her were doing. Around four, Mr. Weasley knocked on Ginny’s door.

 

   “Come in!” Mrs. Weasley called, not turning her attention away from Ginny’s hair.

 

 Mr. Weasley opened the door. “Harry, time to go down,” he said to him.

 

 Harry jumped off the bed, dropping the book. “Right,” he said, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. Mr. Weasley led him out and back to the first floor, into his study where Remus, Sirius, and Ron were waiting.

 

   “It takes two hours to put on dress robes?” Harry asked as Sirius pushed him into a chair.

 

   “No,” Sirius said, drawing his wand with a determined expression filling his eyes. “It takes two hours to comb your hair.”

 

 Harry frowned. “My hair? What’s wrong with it?”  


 Sirius laughed. “What’s wrong with it, Harry, Harry, you poor, innocent, and naïve child,” he chuckled. “Everything is wrong with it. Your hair is just as bad as your dad’s was, and he was almost late to his wedding because it took me so long to tame it. It’s that Indian blood from his mum, I expect.”

 

 Harry scowled. “But I like my hair.”

 

 Sirius raised an eyebrow. “You really think I’m going to let you walk out there without even attempting to tame your hair?”

 

 Harry sighed. “No,” he mumbled.

 

   “Good,” Sirius said. “Now, hold still. This won’t hurt. Much.”

 

 An hour later, Harry had decided that Sirius had been pulling his finger about it hurting, though his neck was getting stiff from sitting with his head back for so long. He wasn’t sure what his godfather was doing to his hair, but it was taking a long time. Mr. Weasley came in with a time update at 5:30, telling Sirius to hurry up with Harry’s hair. Harry suggested Sirius just leave it as it was, just to receive glares from even Remus.

 

   “That would defeat the purpose of the last hour’s work,” Sirius grumbled.

 

   “It’s worse than James’s was,” Remus commented.

 

   “Yeah, James’s was just curly, this is plain a rat’s nest. How often do you comb your hair, Harry?”

 

   “Erm,” Harry answered.

 

   “Not often enough,” Sirius said with a huff. “Just because your hair looks decent when it’s a mess doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to keep it maintained.”  


   “It never really bothered me,” Harry said.

 

   “I think I’ve almost got it neat,” Sirius sighed, “just hold still.”  


 Harry’s nose twitched. Sirius muttered another incantation, then gave a cry of: “There!” and Harry sneezed.

 

   “No!” Sirius cried as Harry’s hair flew out of place.

 

   “I propose drastic measures,” Remus said to Sirius.

 

   “No, we are not using hair gel!” Sirius insisted. “Harry, get back here!”

 

  “I didn’t move!” Harry grumbled, leaning back again. Sirius started combing through his hair again, muttering under his breath in irritation. He started casting spells again, doing God knows what to Harry’s hair, then Remus reminded him that it was almost six.

 

   “I know, I know!”

 

   “He has to get into his robes, Sirius.”

 

   “One more minute, there’s just this one patch in the back that won’t lie flat.”

 

   “I think –”  


   “No, I refuse to put hair gel in his hair, Remus, you know what happened when we tried that with James!”

 

   “What happened?” Harry asked, quite curious.

 

   “Never mind that,” Sirius said, “sit still!”  


 Harry huffed. Remus checked his watch again. Sirius hissed a curse word under his breath, then said another incantation. “Got it!” He said. “Now, hold still while I charm it in place.”

 

   “Like hairspray?” Harry asked, taking great care to not move a muscle.

 

   “Something like that, yeah,” Sirius muttered more incantations, waving his wand over Harry’s hair. “Alright, it’s done.”  


 Harry stood up from the chair and moved towards the large mirror that had been set up across the room and examined his freshly tamed hair.

 

  _Damn, you look good,_ Ginny thought.

 

 Harry smiled. He agreed; Sirius had gotten each strand to lay flat and combed it up and to the side, giving him a bit of a quiff and making it look very stylish. It definitely didn’t look anything like his normal bedhead.

 

   “Right, into robes,” Remus called, clapping his hands together. “Ron, get your nose out of that comic!”

 

 Ron nearly dropped his _Marvin the Mad Muggle #43_. “What?” he said, looking around.

 

   “Get into your dress robes!” Remus told him. “The two of you ought to know how to dress yourselves.”

 

   “Are you leaving?” Harry asked.

 

   “Yes, we’ve got to get dressed too,” Sirius said. “We’ll be back in a bit, we’re just going to pop over to our flat.”

 

   “Alright,” Harry said, waving as they left the room. His and Ron’s dress robes were hanging on a conjured hat-stand by the mirror, freshly pressed and crisp. The two of them dressed quickly, Harry feeling the nerves that had faded with Sirius and Remus’s banter over straightening his hair return tenfold. A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley re-entered the study with a tray of glasses and a bottle.

 

   “Boys,” he said, setting the tray on a desk, “don’t tell your mother I’m letting you have this,” he added as he began pouring amber liquid from the bottle into the glasses.

 

   “Is that firewhiskey?” Ron gasped.

 

 Mr. Weasley handed him a glass. “Yes, it is, Ogden’s Finest.” He handed a glass to Harry, then took one for himself. “Cheers,” he said, and they all clinked glasses. Mr. Weasley tossed his back while Ron and Harry sipped theirs at first, which proved to Harry to be a mistake; the alcohol was sweet but it burned the back of his throat and mouth as it passed slowly over his tongue.

 

   “It’s whiskey, boys, don’t sip it,” Mr. Weasley said to them, too late.

 

   “Gathered that,” Harry croaked.

 

Mr. Weasley poured himself another two fingers. Harry looked down into his glass, as a sudden memory from years before surfaced, one that he hadn’t considered in years. A fat, purple-faced man, bent over a glass and a half empty bottle on the table before him. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to drink any more of the whiskey, but Mr. Weasley was raising his glass again.

 

   “The two of you have grown in ways I could have only hoped for,” Ron’s father said. “Harry, when Ginny told me five years ago that her imaginary friend was coming to visit, I couldn’t have dreamed that this would have been the outcome. You’re the perfect man for her, son, and I wouldn’t want to see her with anyone else.”  


   “Thanks, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, blushing slightly.

 

   “I’m proud of you, both of you,” Mr. Weasley said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. He clinked his glass with Ron’s once again, “To becoming men!” he said, beaming at them both.

 

   “To Harry and Ginny,” Ron said.

 

   “To love,” Harry added, smiling.

 

_Sap_.

 

 Harry threw back the whiskey, not wanting to think any longer of the angry old man who used to swing his fists at him when he got drunk, rather of his future with Ginny.

 

 The door opened once again and Mr. Weasley looked up guiltily, but it was just Remus and Sirius. They had changed into dress robes, Sirius’s a deep red with black and silver accents, Remus’s shades of purple with blue.

 

   “Ooh, firewhiskey!” Sirius said as he entered.

 

   “Help yourself,” Mr. Weasley told them. “Just don’t tell Molly.”

 

   “Oh, never,” Sirius laughed, taking a glass for himself.

 

   “Not too much, now,” Remus reminded him as Sirius poured them both glasses.

 

   “Of course, not,” Sirius said. “There’ll be champagne later!”

 

   “True,” Remus conceded.

 

 Harry downed the last mouthful of whiskey in his glass and checked his watch. Six twenty-one.

 

   “We’re due outside in a minute,” Remus told them. “Tonks is waiting anxiously to walk you down the aisle,” he added to Harry.

 

   “Right,” Harry muttered, twisting the glass between his fingers.

 

   “Ron, you’ll be walking your mother to her seat,” Mr. Weasley said, pulling a tin from his pocket. “Take a mint,” he added, handing it to his son. “Don’t want her smelling the firewhiskey on your breath.”

 

   “It was only the one glass,” Ron said as he shook a mint from the tin.

 

   “She’ll notice,” Mr. Weasley said.

 

   “Harry, you ought to take one too,” Sirius said. “I expect Ginny will want your breath to taste minty fresh when she goes in for the kiss.”

 

 Harry made a face at Sirius but took a mint. He checked his watch again, but it was only six twenty-two.

 

   “When do we go out?” Harry asked.

 

   “Six thirty,” Remus said. “Though, Sirius and I have to get to our seats before then.”

 

   “Right,” Harry muttered. “And I walk Tonks to her seat, then go up to stand by the priest?”  


   “Yep,” Sirius answered. He patted Harry on the arm. “Don’t be so nervous, it’s all exciting once you get up there.”

 

   “Says you,” Harry muttered. “You’ve never been married.”

 

   “Well, no, not legally,” Sirius said.

 

 Harry’s eyebrows knit together. “What does that mean?” he asked.

 

 Sirius reached up and pulled a chain out from beneath his robes, on which dangled a gold ring. “We had a wedding, it just wasn’t legal,” he explained, looking up at Remus, who was staring at his feet. Sirius nudged him.

 

   “What?” Remus said, looking up. Sirius shook the chain with his ring. “Oh, are we showing off our rings?”

 

   “Yes, show Harry proof that you’re my unlawfully wedded husband.”

 

 Remus chuckled and pulled a matching chain from his neck, showing Harry the golden ring.

 

   “I didn’t know you were married,” Harry said, completely astonished.

 

   “Yes, well, you weren’t there,” Sirius said with a laugh. “Well, technically you were present in utero, your mum went into Braxton-Hicks contractions in the middle of our vows.”

 

   “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were married?” Harry asked them, still flabbergasted and a little hurt that they had never told him. He was their godson, after all.

 

   “Technically we’re not married,” Remus said. “As it’s not legal, Muggle or Wizard, we had a ceremony of commitment.”

 

   “James went mad when he found out Lily had contractions and didn’t tell him,” Sirius said with a grin. It didn’t escape Harry that they hadn’t actually answered his question, but he let it go for the moment. “Nearly had an aneurysm in the middle of his speech.”

 

   “Somehow, James was both my best man and Sirius’s,” Remus told Harry with a chuckle.

 

   “And the officiator,” Sirius laughed.

 

   “It was a lovely ceremony,” Mr. Weasley commented. “One of the most beautiful weddings I’d ever been too, for a wedding that wasn’t technically a wedding.”

 

   “All the gays were having commitment ceremonies in those days,” Sirius chuckled, then he paused, adding with a smile that saddened as he spoke: “A lot of people did get married in that time. People thought they would likely be killed by Death Eaters at any time, so why wait, y’know?

 

   “Was that why you two got married?” Ron asked.

 

   “No, no,” said Remus with a soft smile, “we did because Sirius got drunk and told me if I didn’t succumb to his seductions, he’d marry me.”

 

   “I was already planning on proposing!” Sirius protested. “At the time, I just wanted a bit of nooky!”  


 Remus rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yes, it was very romantic.”

 

   “Can’t be less romantic than Ginny and me,” Harry laughed. “I walked up to her and called her a figment of my imagination, poof, married.”

 

 Sirius snorted. “You didn’t know,” he said.

 

   “Exactly,” Harry laughed.

 

_I thought it was very romantic, Harry._

_Sarcasm is not appreciated._

_Oh, no, you found me out._

 Remus checked his watch again. “We should get out there, Sirius,” he said. Sirius gave a nod, already tucking the chain with his ring back under his robes.

 

   “See you out there,” Sirius said, reaching out and giving Harry a brief but tight hug. Remus hugged him as well, then the two of them left the office. Tonks stuck her head in.

 

   “Ready?” she asked Harry.

 

   “Yes,” he answered. She nodded, entering the room. She had changed into dress robes since he’d last seen her, a deep mauve gown with a loosely fitting robe over top, though Harry noticed that the gown clung to her figure oddly. She had turned her hair black and wavy to match Harry’s, and she looked rather like his older sister, albeit paler. She walked over to them and linked her arm through Harry’s.

 

   “Firewhiskey?” Mr. Weasley offered, but she shook her head.

 

   “Molly said you ought to go upstairs,” she said. “Ginny’s waiting for you.”

 

 Mr. Weasley nodded and set down his glass. “See you in a bit then,” he said, leaving the room. Harry checked his watch again. Six twenty-eight.

 

 A moment later, Tonks spoke. “Ron, you should go find your mother so you can walk her to her seat.”

 

 Ron nodded. “Good luck, mate,” he said to Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. Harry nodded stiffly, not wanting to speak. He checked his watch again, but it was still six twenty-eight.

 

 Tonks patted his hand. “Ready?” she asked once again.

 

 Harry nodded again. She tugged on his arm slightly, then led him from the room, out through the sitting-room door to the yard and the tent that had been set up to house the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out “Poof, Married” was a quote and not something that happened in the chapter. Oh well, we all use a bit of clickbait sometimes.


	52. Wedding Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _First off, if you have been reading all the author's notes you might know of my mild obsession with Dan and Phil. Yes, I say mild, shut up. Anyway, today is Phil's birthday, which just so happens to coincide with your next update! So, everyone go wish Phil a happy birthday regardless of whether you watch him or not, bc he's 30 today and he's officially old._  
>  _Moving on, warning, there is extreme fluff and pseudo-smut in your future because it’s finally the wedding! If smut makes you uncomfortable, please note the word ‘pseudo’ is used for the exact reason that actual smut makes me uncomfortable and the kind of smut I write is technically not smut bc I won’t write the actual sex. Nevertheless, if you still don’t want to chance it, the smut starts here:_ “Ginny opened the door with her wand and Harry set her down inside,” _and ends with the chapter, so feel free to skip that, nothing majorly important to the plot happens. For those of you who have nothing against smut, I hope you enjoy my brand of pseudo-smut._

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

**Wedding Bells**

**Ginny**

 

 

“Ginny, if you keep pacing you’re going to wear a hole through the floor,” Hermione sighed as she put away her lipstick.

 

 Ginny stopped, unfolding her arms and dropping onto her bed. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” she groaned.

 

   “Possibly because it’s your wedding day, but I could be wrong,” Hermione said dryly.

 

 Ginny gave her a look of unamusement. “Ha-ha,” she muttered. She pushed her veil out of her face and propped her chin up on her hand. Her legs were shaking, her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, she could barely think. Harry’s mind was just as scrambled, making it hard for them to communicate. She kept thinking about the potion her mother had given her just minutes earlier. _“Infertility Draft,”_ her mother had said quietly. _“You’ll only have to take it once a week.”_ It had tasted like artificial cherries, Ginny recalled, but she hadn’t been focusing on that. Her brain wouldn’t stop reminding her that tonight was her wedding night.

 

   “Ginny?”

 

 Ginny jerked her head up at her father’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, smiling gently at her.

 

   “It’s time,” he said.

 

 Ginny rose from the bed, her knees nearly knocking into each other. Hermione stepped up beside her, linking her arm through Ginny’s.

 

   “It’ll be fine,” Hermione whispered, squeezing her arm gently. Ginny just nodded. Her father held out his arm, and Ginny released Hermione to take it. Dad led her from the room, and at the stairs, Ginny paused to bunch up her skirt so she could see her feet. Her ankles wobbled as she walked down the stairs, in part because of her heels, in part because of her nerves. Hermione carried her train, dropping it only once they had exited the stairwell. Ginny’s mother and Ron were standing near the kitchen door. At the sight of them, Mum clasped her hands together under her chin and let out a happy sigh.

 

   “You’re beautiful,” Mum said, even though she had been in the room while Ginny got ready.

 

   “Thanks, Mum,” Ginny said, letting go of her father’s arm to hug her mother. Mum patted her cheek, then stepped back.

 

   “Hermione, you’ll walk out first when the music starts,” Mum said. “Then Ginny, you and Arthur come after the bridal march starts.”

 

 Ginny gave a nod. Mum had run all this through with them the day before. Mum hugged her again, then it was time for her and Ron to walk outside. Ginny hugged herself tightly, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, staring at the kitchen door and waiting anxiously. Hermione smoothed out the soft gold satin of her gown, showing that even she was nervous. Dad checked his watch for the third time.

 

 Soft strains of music seeped into the room. Hermione gave Ginny a grin and a hug, then picked up her bouquet and exited. Ginny turned to her dad, who gave her a warm smile.

 

   “Ready?” he asked.

 

 Ginny just nodded. “I think so,” she murmured. Dad reached out and hugged her, then they heard the first notes of the bridal march and he leaned away.

 

   “Let’s go,” he murmured, reaching up and lifting her veil over her face. Ginny took her bouquet, then linked her arm through his and let him lead her from the kitchen into the yard. A long carpet had been laid out to mark the aisle, starting just outside the marquee and leading into it. Ginny’s heart pounded in her chest as she and her father reached the carpet, then entered the marquee.

 

 Her eyes found Harry’s face instantly. He grinned at her and she felt her lips curving involuntarily back. Her feet moved automatically down the aisle, the music and the soft murmuring from the guests fading from her ears. She heard just her heartbeat.

 

 There was one other sound, however, and as she reached the altar and Harry, she thought that it sounded a lot like a second heartbeat, but then it seemed to either fade or sync with her own, and it slipped her mind.

 

 Her father released her arm and lifted her veil. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead and held out her hand to Harry, who took it with trembling fingers. Ginny’s father stepped back as Ginny stepped forward to face Harry in front of the officiator.

 

   “Dearly beloved,” said the little man from the Ministry, “we are gathered here today to witness the union between these two, young people.”

 

_Geez, why not make it obvious that we’re teenagers,_ Ginny thought.

 

_I still think Dumbledore should officiated._

_For the last time, I didn’t want our Headmaster officiating our wedding._

   “In all the centuries that we wizards have been studying magic, nothing has been so elusive or magnificent as the magic that is the love between two people.”

 

_That is so cheesy you might have written it._

_Hey!_

 

 Ginny grinned at him as his lips curved in a warm smile.

 

   “Love is the greatest magic. It binds us together, it gives us comfort, it shows us peace. At the very same time, it gives us passion, it brings us immense joy, and it shows us what it is to truly feel alive. To love is to be human, and to be human is to fall in love.”

 

 Harry gave Ginny a smirk. She grinned back.

 

   “Therefore, it gives me great pleasure to bring the love between these two to its highest mark. Marriage is not just a bond, it is a commitment. It is a vow to protect one another, to stay by each other’s side through the darkest of times and to share in all the happiest times. And both Harry and Ginny have sworn to do so for the rest of their lives.”

 

_Well, it’s not like we had much choice,_ Harry thought.

_Yeah, I’ll take your horrible puns for the rest of my life over dying._

 Harry had to do his best to not laugh. Ginny grinned.

 

   “Ginny, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live with him and cherish him, to stand by his side through all trouble and hardship, through sickness and health, through misfortune and wealth, until death do you part?”

 

   “I do,” Ginny murmured.

 

   “Harry, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live with her and cherish her, to stand by her side through all trouble and hardship, through sickness and health, through misfortune and wealth, until death do you part?”

 

   “I do,” Harry answered.

 

_You’d bloody better,_ Ginny joked.

_Duh, if I don’t stand by you, I die or go insane. If I do, I have to stay there until I do die. Either way, I’m dying._

_That’s the spirit._

   “Do you have the rings?”

 

 Ginny turned and took the ring Hermione was handing her; Harry took his from Ron. They faced each other again, holding up the rings.

 

   “The ring is a symbol of eternity. It goes on and on and never ends, in its infinity, it is a comparison to the vow of love between these two. The bride and groom have chosen to say their own vows of love as a marker to all of this marriage.”

 

 The officiator nodded to Harry, who cleared his throat before speaking. “Ginny,” he said.

 

_Yes?_ She grinned. The corner of his mouth twitched.

 

   “If someone had told me before we met that this would be the result, I probably would have thought they were crazy,” Harry said. Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. “Because this is honestly the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

 

_That’s encouraging._

_Shut up and let me finish._

   “Not only is this crazy, but you’re crazy,” he continued. “Because you, for some reason, decided that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with my craziness. So, I guess, we’re both crazy. But even though it’s crazy and it shouldn’t make sense and we’re young, I know that there’s nothing crazier than the idea that I might not be with you for the rest of my life.”

 

  _Aw, you’re so sweet._

 

   “You’re the best thing that could have possibly happened to me. You’re beautiful, and you’re kind, and you make me laugh even when I want to hide away from the whole world. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You’re everything to me. And I’m so glad that we’re both crazy.”

 

 Ginny couldn’t help the way her lips curved in a smile or the way her cheeks flushed with pink. For all her joking, Harry’s romantic nature would never cease to amaze her.

 

   “Harry Potter,” she began. “I’m pretty sure I knew we’d end up getting married by the time I turned fourteen. Well, actually I was certain that I’d marry you by the time I turned four, but that was when you were still a fairy tale to me.”

 

 There was a ripple of laughter throughout the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw her mother wiping tears away.

 

   “I’ve spent ages trying to think of what to say to you in this moment,” she continued, her voice becoming a bit softer. “And I’ve never been able to pin down exactly what I do want to say. I could talk about how good you are to me, or what an amazing person in general you are, or wax poetic for two minutes straight on how much I love you. But there’s too much to say. I can’t put into words what exactly it is to be in love with you, no matter how hard I try. When you were still a fairy tale, I imagined you to be perfect, but now I know that you’re not, and I love you even more for it, because you’re perfect for me.”

 

_And I thought I was a sap._

 

  _Oh, shut up and kiss me._

_Hey, we have to wait for not-Dumbledore to say we can._

 

_Hmph._

 

   “And now for the exchanging of the rings,” said the officiator. “Harry, repeat after me.”  


 Harry held up Ginny’s ring with a smile.

 

   “With this ring, I take you as my wife.”

 

   “With this ring, I take you as my wife.”

 

 Ginny felt a grin break her face.

 

   “I take you to be mine for eternity.”

 

 Harry lifted her hand. “I take you to be mine for eternity.”

 

   “Let no magic nor evil nor person take this ring nor the promise of this vow from you.”

 

   “Let no magic nor evil nor person take this ring nor the promise of this vow from you,” Harry finished.

 

 He slipped the ring onto her finger, giving her a soft and delighted smile.

 

   “Ginny, repeat after me. With this ring, I take you to be my husband.”

 

   “With this ring,” Ginny murmured. “I take you to be my husband.”

 

   “I take you to be mine for eternity.”

 

   “I take you to be mine for eternity.”

 

   “Let no magic nor evil nor person take this ring nor the promise of this vow from you.”

 

 Ginny lifted Harry’s hand. “Let no magic nor evil nor person take this ring nor the promise of this vow from you.” She slid the ring onto his finger, then pushed her fingers through his.

 

 The officiator drew his wand and set the tip on their clasped hands. “Now that these two have sworn their vows and exchanged their rings, let the magic between them bind them and become one.”

 

 Thin streams of golden light slipped from the wand and began twisting around their hands.

 

   “Let their love flow into their magic and keep them together for all their lives. With this magic, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss.”

 

 With their hands still held together, Harry and Ginny leaned in and pressed their lips together. As their eyes shut, the golden chains linking their hands expanded and turned to a flash of bright light, and though they did not realize it, it was nearly blinding to all those witnessing it.

 

 They parted, and even the officiator was blinking away tears. The man lifted his wand and raised his hands. “All, please rise. I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter!”

 

 There was cheering and applause; Ginny put her arms around Harry’s waist and hugged him. He pressed a kiss to her hair and grinned at her. The officiator gave a wave of his wand and the chairs cleared, tables appeared; the music began again in earnest and trays of food and champagne appeared on tables by the back. The carpet vanished to be replaced with a dance floor, the walls disappeared to reveal the night outside.

 

_That went well,_ thought Harry. Ginny kissed him again.

 

 Having never attended a wedding that she could remember, Ginny didn’t know exactly what to expect of a wedding reception. As for the food, Mum had been cooking for days to prepare for the wedding, and it proved to be delicious. Ginny and Harry sat at a table at the front of the marquee with Ron and Hermione to eat, then there were the speeches. Ginny knew Ron was giving one, and Hermione as well, but she wasn’t sure who else would be speaking.

 

 As Ginny had been rather focused on Harry when she entered the marquee, she hadn’t taken the time to look around at the guests. Remus and Sirius were seated at a table nearby with Tonks, Harry’s aunt and grandmother, and her parents. Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall sat at another table with some of Ginny’s relatives. At another table sat the twins with the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Lee Jordan, and she laughed to see that her two brothers and Lee were all wearing tall, sleek top hats. Her mother had invited a lot of the family, so there were at least four tables full of redheaded people. Near the back, she saw Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Luna at another table with two other people that she could not identify from the back.

 

 As dinner came to a close, Ron rose from his chair and tapped his fork against his glass of butterbeer – Mum had refused to serve them champagne, even though it was an extremely special occasion.

 

  “If I could have your attention for just a moment,” Ron called, effectively silencing the guests. He cleared his throat, then set down his fork. “Erm, I’m told that best man speeches are usually meant to both encourage and make fun of the bride and groom, well, mostly the groom.”

 

 There was light laughter. Ginny smiled, looking out at the guests. The two people she had not identified in the back had turned around, giving Ginny a clear view of their faces.

 

_Harry, it’s Krum and Fleur!_

_They came?_ Harry leaned in to look as well. _They came!_

_I didn’t know you invited them!_

_I figured we might as well._

 

   “And while I would love to make fun of Harry and Ginny,” Ron was saying; Ginny glanced back up at him, determined to pay attention, “the two of them are such a perfect couple that there’s very little to make fun of them for. As Hermione once said, they are disgustingly affectionate.”

 

 The guests laughed again and Hermione smiled.

 

   “So, here’s to Harry and Ginny,” Ron said. “May you rot all of our teeth for the rest of your lives with your disgustingly affectionate behavior. Cheers!”

 

   “Cheers!” the guests echoed, drinking from their glasses.

 

   “I have a toast as well,” called Hermione as she rose from her seat. “I’ve known Harry and Ginny for about five years now, and throughout those five years, they’ve never failed to surprise me with their antics except once. Back in third year, Harry used to sneak out of the castle to go to Hogsmeade with Ginny, as he’d failed to get permission to attend.”

 

  _I forgot about that,_ Harry thought. _That was fun._

 

   “After one afternoon of me questioning him, I think it was in March, Harry decided that the best way of changing the subject was to abruptly kiss Ginny in the middle of dinner,” Hermione said. The guests laughed, giving Hermione pause to breathe. “And the best thing about it was Ron’s reaction, as he had had absolutely no clue they were secretly going out, despite the fact that it had been going on for over a month.”

 

   “I had some clues,” Ron said.

 

   “He had no clue,” Hermione insisted. “I had known for nearly the entire time, however, as Harry wouldn’t stop looking at Ginny with the most embarrassing heart eyes I’ve ever seen. In fact, he hasn’t stopped yet.” Hermione turned to them, raising her glass. “And I hope he never stops. Ginny, you’re very lucky to have gotten such an adoring husband. To Harry and Ginny!”

 

   “To Harry and Ginny!”

 

   “My turn!” said Sirius as he stood up.

 

   “Oh, god,” Remus muttered in a barely audible voice as he covered his eyes.

 

   “Harry, Ginny, I’ll say one thing and one thing only,” Sirius said, completely ignoring Remus. “I never thought I’d see a couple more in love than James and Lily, but you have proven me wrong ten times over. Now, I have said my one thing, let the two of you prove me wrong for years and years to come! To Harry and Ginny!”

 

 Harry lifted his glass, and Ginny picked up hers to clink it against his as the guests echoed the toast. “To us,” Harry murmured.

 

   “To forever,” she said. Harry grinned and they drank.

 

 Then the toasts were over and the music began again. Harry rose from his chair and held out his hand to Ginny.

 

   “May I have this dance?” he asked.

 

   “You may,” Ginny answered, grinning ridiculously broadly.

 

 Harry took her hand and they moved around the table to the golden dance floor. Harry set his hand at her waist, then held up her other hand and they began to sway in time to the music. Ginny grinned up at him.

 

_I’m wearing three-inch heels and you’re still taller than me this is not acceptable._

 Harry laughed softly then pressed a kiss to her lips. _In your face._

 

Their first dance as husband and wife ended and another song began. Other people joined them on the dance floor; Ginny’s parents, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Luna, Tonks with both Sirius and Remus for some reason, Fred with Kate and George with Angelina. The floor filled and Harry and Ginny slipped away, grabbing seats at another table. Ginny grinned at Harry, who grinned back and hugged her. They watched the dancers, sitting together in contented silence. Bill had asked Fleur to dance, and the two of them were in the very center. George was now dancing with Professor McGonagall, and he had given her his top hat, which she wore with pride. The sight of their aging Head of House dancing with her brother and wearing his top hat was a sight to see.

 

   “Mr. and Mrs. Potter.”

 

 They looked up; Krum had walked over to them. “May I join you?” he asked, his voice soft.

 

   “Of course,” Harry said. “Thank you so much for coming.”

 

   “It vas my pleasure,” Krum answered. “I vas very happy to be invited. This is much needed frivolity, considering the times.”

 

 Ginny gave a nod, her gaze dropping involuntarily to Krum’s right arm; the sleeve had been pinned up at the elbow.

 

   “How are you doing?” Harry asked.

 

   “I am vell enough,” Krum answered. He paused, licking his lips as he thought. “I vish to thank you for your quick thinking in the maze, Potter. Had you not done vat you did, I probably vould have bled to death.”

 

 Harry nodded, clenching his jaw slightly. Ginny reached under the table with her hand to clasp his, knowing that his mind was trying to offer up the memory of what had happened. “I just… I wish that never happened,” Harry said.

 

 Krum gave a shrug. “The Dark Lord vas bound to resurface sooner or later,” he said. They looked up sharply, to see Krum smile. “Yes, I know. It was not hard to piece together vat truly happened, despite your Minister denying everything.”

 

 Harry glanced around. “Nothing’s happened yet,” he said. “Voldemort’s been quiet; that’s why Dumbledore agreed to let the Minister claim everything was an accident.”

 

   “I guessed as much,” Krum replied. Then he leaned forward, asking in a softer voice that barely carried to them. “Vat I could not figure out was vy you were targeted so specifically.”

 

 Harry dropped his gaze, then shrugged. He lifted his right arm, pulling up his sleeve to show a thin white scar on his arm. “Voldemort needed blood for his resurrection. He decided to use mine, it – it’s a long story.”

 

 Krum lifted his hand, his eyebrows raising in a subtle but clear request for knowledge. “Ve have time, do ve not?”

 

 Harry let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Erm, when – when Voldemort first disappeared, he tried to kill me and failed, you know?”

 

   “Yes, the ‘ole volrd knows,” Krum said. “Even in Bulgaria, ve know.”

 

   “Well, at least this is Dumbledore’s theory, when he tried to kill me, it backfired on him because of my mother’s sacrifice to save me,” Harry said. “That her love put some sort of protection on me that meant he couldn’t touch me.”

 

   “I have heard of similar magics,” Krum murmured. “The officiator vas not bullshitting ven he said love vas a powerful magic.” Ginny laughed; Harry gave a smile. “But vat did that have to do vith your blood?”

 

 Harry hesitated before answering; Krum was someone he trusted, yes, but he wasn’t sure how much he trusted him. He thought about the book Boldblood had found in his vault, _The Book of Blood_ , and his mother’s journals on the subject, about Dumbledore’s instructions to lie low. “I’m not sure,” Harry said finally, as that was the truth; he didn’t know what his mother had done to protect him, even if he had an idea. “But there was something about my mother’s sacrifice that it was in my blood somehow.”

 

   “So, he used your blood in his resurrection?” Krum asked, raising an eyebrow. “And that did something?”

 

   “Broke the protection,” Harry answered, pulling down his sleeve and hiding the mark. “So, that he could kill me.”

 

   “I see,” Krum murmured. He leaned back in his chair, studying Harry with an inquisitive eye. “Then how did you escape?”

 

   “Dumbledore rescued me,” Harry answered. “Got there in the nick of time.”

 

 Krum nodded. “I am sorry for making you think of this on your vedding day,” he said. “I just… I needed to know.” Krum reached over and gripped this arm with his remaining hand, his gaze falling to the table. “It has been… difficult to carry on vith my handicap,” he confessed. “I am no longer able to play Quidditch.”

 

   “I’m sorry,” Harry said. “If there was anything I could do…”

 

 Krum shrugged. “There is magic to replace lost limbs, however, vatever spell that woman used… Efforts to replace my arm have failed.”

 

   “You’re probably still one of the greatest Seekers in the world,” Ginny told him. “Even with only one arm.”

 

 Krum laughed. “You flatter me,” he said. Then he rose from his seat. “If your husband does not mind, might I have a dance vith you?”

 

 Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged; she grinned and took his hand. Krum led her onto the dance floor, then set his hand at her waist. Even with one hand, he was an excellent dancer; though, Ginny was certain that she had stepped on his toes several times. At the end of the song, Krum stepped back and bowed to her.

 

   “Your husband is a very lucky man,” he said to her.

 

   “Thank you,” Ginny said, her cheeks flushing.

 

 Ginny tried to go back to her seat, but George grabbed her arm out of nowhere and dragged her into a very fast foxtrot for the next song; she ended up dancing with each of her brothers then, lastly with Bill who asked if she knew if Fleur Delacour was single or not. She didn’t, which he thought was quite unfortunate. After leaving the dance floor, she spotted Harry dancing with his grandmother, so she looked around for somewhere to sit. She saw Seamus and Dean sitting at a table nearby and started towards them.

 

   “Hello,” she said, dropping into a seat.

 

   “Hi, Ginny!” Dean said brightly. “Or, should I say Mrs. Potter?”

 

 Ginny snorted. “You can still call me Ginny.”

 

 Seamus elbowed her. “So, you were a Potter fan as a kid?” For some reason, Dean guffawed.

 

 Ginny gave him a shove as he snorted. “Oh, shut up, all little girls were!”

 

   “So were you, Shay!” Dean accused in a laugh.

 

Ginny gasped, then laughed while Seamus turned bright red. “His mum told me all about how the story of the great Harry Potter was his favorite bedtime story,” Dean continued. “He even had a doll!”

 

   “I did not!” Seamus protested. “That was a ragdoll that had been in my mam’s family for generations! And – and! I never touched the thing,” Seamus added with a nod, as if that made everything final.

 

   “You still pretended it was Harry Potter,” Dean said.

 

   “Keep talking, Dean, this will embarrass Harry and Seamus,” Ginny said.

 

   “What about your Barbies as a kid, eh, Dean?” Seamus shot back.

 

 Dean shrugged. “My sisters made me play with them, so what? They didn’t have Ken dolls and I had action figures.”

 

   “Those are still dolls!”

 

   “Says the boy who had a ragdoll named Harry Potter as a child.”

 

   “Even I never got a Harry Potter doll,” Ginny said. “And I had our wedding planned by the time I was five.”

 

   “Did it turn out the same?” Dean asked.

 

   “I don’t remember, I was five,” Ginny laughed with a shrug.

 

   “Y’know, Gin, I think you did get yourself a Harry Potter doll,” Seamus said. “And a life size one at that.”

 

 Ginny gave another laugh, leaning on the table for support. “He is a doll, isn’t he?” Ginny said, looking over her shoulder at Harry dancing with his grandmother.

 

   “Adorable,” Dean said dryly.

 

 Ginny snorted, looking back at them. “He is,” she said.

 

   “Alright, none of that sappy newlywed shit,” Seamus said. “Man up, you’re having sex tonight!”

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. He deflated.

 

   “I shouldn’t have said ‘man up’,” he conceded. “Sorry.”

 

 Ginny gave a satisfied nod as she twitched her skirt to make her position more comfortable, or rather to emphasize the fact that she was wearing one. “Thank you, Seamus.”

 

   “But still, you’re getting some action later,” Seamus continued, elbowing her in the ribs with a grin. “How’s about that, eh?”

 

   “Oh, shove off,” Ginny laughed.

 

   “Boys,” Dean sighed.

 

   “I completely agree.” Ginny echoed his sigh. Seamus rolled his eyes.

 

   “If I were you, I’d be itching to get out of here,” Seamus said.

 

   “Seamus when you get married, I’ll repeat that to you, and we’ll see how you feel then,” Ginny told him.

 

 Dean, for some reason, blushed, but snorted and looked away. “That’ll be a sight. Seamus settling down.”

 

   “You never know, he might!” Ginny insisted. “All he has to do is find the right girl!”

 

 Seamus shrugged. “Maybe one day,” he said simply. “She’ll probably be blonde, I bet,” he added with a laugh. Dean abruptly gave him a cross look, but got up and held out his hand to Ginny.

 

   “Want to dance?” he asked.

 

   “Sure,” Ginny answered, taking his hand.

 

   “I hope Harry knows how lucky he is,” Dean said as he set his hand to her waist. “You’re an amazing girl.”

 

_I’M THE LUCKIEST GUY IN THE WORLD!_

_Harry, chill._

_Can’t, I’m too busy drinking up all the lucky._

 

   “Thanks,” Ginny said, glancing down and smiling. “I feel really lucky too.”

 

   “That too,” Dean admitted as they began to sway to the music. “Harry’s quite the catch,” he added with a grin. Ginny laughed and grinned.

 

   “All these compliments are going to overinflate his head,” she said.

 

   “I’m sure you’ll pop it for him,” Dean replied, laughing.

 

    “Oh, most definitely,” Ginny said with a nod.

 

At the end of the song, they returned to the table where Seamus was still sitting, having been joined by Neville and Luna.

 

   _I’m gonna go dance with Aunt Petunia._

_You do that, dear._

 

   “Ginny,” Luna cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around her. “The ceremony was so lovely!”

 

   “Thank you,” Ginny sighed as she hugged her friend tightly. “Mum did all of the planning.”

 

   “I suspected as much,” Luna said. “You wouldn’t talk on and on about the magic of love.”

 

   “No, not really,” Ginny said with a laugh. “If I had designed it, it would have been so much simpler.”

 

   “What’s wrong with complex?” asked a sudden voice; they turned to see Sirius standing behind them. “Ginny, I came to ask your favor in a dance,” he added; he held out his hand and bowed low. Ginny giggled and took it, then Harry’s godfather pressed a slightly scratchy kiss to her knuckles and led her back to the dance floor. She waved to her friends, then turned to face the dance floor. She spotted Harry, still dancing, but this time with Remus. She laughed.

 

  _I thought you were dancing with your aunt!_

_So did I, but she and Gram were talking and told me to go away for a minute, and then Remus swooped in._

 

   “Did you put him up to that?” Ginny asked Sirius.

 

   “Of course, I did,” Sirius answered. “Tonks may be acting as mother of the groom, but Remus is still Harry’s mum.”

 

   “Remus is everyone’s mum,” Ginny told him as Sirius took her in his arms. “It’s part of who he is.”

 

   “Remus can’t wait to be a grandmum, though,” Sirius said, winking.

 

   “Yes, I can, and that period of time is until they’ve finished school,” Remus said as he and Harry danced past them.

 

 Ginny gave a snort. “Yeah, neither Remus nor my mum are going to be grandmum’s any time soon.”

 

   “Still, you’ve barely got two years left,” Sirius said. “Won’t be that long until there’ll be a little Harry, Jr.”

 

   “We’re not naming any of our children Harry, Jr.,” Harry shot from the other side of the dance floor. Ginny grinned.

 

   “Damn his hearing,” Sirius sighed. “I really wanted to convince you to name one of them Harry, Jr.”

 

   “Yeah, no,” Ginny sighed. “Maybe after his dad, but not after him.”

 

   “Ah, James, Jr., I’ll accept,” Sirius said.

 

   “James Sirius Potter,” Ginny decided. Sirius looked at her, his eyes widening slightly.

 

  “Really?” he murmured.

 

  “Yeah,” Ginny said with a grin. “You’re just as much of a father figure to Harry as anything.”

 

Sirius grinned and wiped away an imaginary tear, then his grin fell into something a little sadder but somehow still happy. “If only James were here to see this,” Sirius said quietly. “He would have loved it.”

 

 Ginny’s smile saddened. “I hope so,” Ginny murmured. “I hope that he and Lily would have loved it.”

 

   “They would have loved you,” Sirius promised her. “You and Harry are perfect for each other. Obviously,” he added with a smile.

 

 Ginny returned it. “Obviously,” she murmured.

 

 After that, Sirius and Remus switched, putting Harry as a follow for the second dance in a row. Then Ginny danced with her father, and for a second time with Ron. At the end of those dances, Ginny found Harry once again and they danced one last song before it was time to cut the cake. As per tradition, Ginny smashed a piece into Harry’s face, and Colin managed to capture the perfect image of Harry staring at her with a murderous expression while she licked bits of icing off her fingers with a grin. After the cake mess was vanished, they lined up for pictures; the whole wedding party, just Harry and Ginny, Ginny and Hermione, Ron and Harry, Ginny and her parents, Harry with Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, the two of them with their parents/parental figures. It took nearly twenty minutes for both Colin and Ginny’s mother to be satisfied, then Harry and Ginny grabbed cake and seats. There were still people dancing, Fred and Sirius were doing an elaborate tango that Colin was photographing; Krum was dancing with Tonks, who looked like she was in heaven; Lee and Alicia were swaying out of time to the music, the both of them looking a bit tipsy; George was twirling Demelza Robbins across the floor – until she stumbled into Colin because she got too dizzy.

 

 Remus dropped into a chair at their table with a slice of cake. “How’s the happy couple?” he asked.

 

   “Extremely happy,” Harry answered thickly with his mouth full. “This cake is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes as Remus chuckled. He looked out at the dancers, smiling as Sirius dipped Fred and George jumped over his twin’s head to avoid tripping. “As far as weddings go, this one was immaculate,” Remus declared as he looked back to them.

 

   “Mum did a great job,” Ginny murmured.

 

   “Yeah, she did,” Harry said, then swallowed. “I’m pretty sure it’s the off-white ivory of the napkins that tied everything together, though.”

 

 Ginny hit Harry gently in the shoulder as he laughed. “Brat,” she muttered. Harry shrugged.

 

   “The napkins are quite lovely,” Remus admitted as he picked one up. Sirius dropped into a seat, grinning at them. He’d stolen Fred’s top hat.

 

   “You look lovely,” Remus said unenthusiastically to Sirius.

 

   “Remus, I just had the most wonderful idea!” Sirius said, slurring just a little. “Let’s move to France.”

 

   “We’re not moving to France.”

 

   “It’d only be six months! Please?”

 

 Remus shook his head. “We are not going to France anytime soon, let alone the six months required to qualify for a marriage certificate.”

 

 Sirius huffed. “Harry, convince your mum to move with me to France so we can get married.”

 

 Harry almost choked on a bite of cake. Ginny thumped his back while she answered Sirius for him. “I think Remus has a point, Sirius.”

 

 Sirius scowled at her. “You’re not helping!” he said, waving a cross finger at her. His top hat slipped down his brow, and Remus snatched it off his head to keep it from falling into his cake. “Hey!”

 

 Remus dropped the hat onto his own head. “You were wearing it improperly,” Remus told him snootily, then adjusted his tie. “I, on the other hand, suit it much better.”

 

 Sirius sighed, then shrugged. “Fine. You keep it, that’ll mean you’ll have to give it back to Fred or George or whichever twin I stole it from later. I’ve had too much wine to tell which is which.”

 

   “It was Fred,” Ginny said. “He was wearing the blue tie, George’s is green.”

 

 Sirius shrugged his shoulders up and held the position, his hands in the air cluelessly. “I don’t know which is which when I’m sober!” he said, then dropped his arms and leaned on the table. “Anyway, he’ll be looking for his hat any minute now.”

 

 Remus echoed Sirius’s shrug, albeit less dramatically. “Then Fred can have it back when he wants it; it’s his hat.”

 

   “Come and dance,” Sirius said to Remus, standing up.

 

 Remus glanced around. “Sirius, I don’t think –”

 

 Sirius grabbed his hand and pulled him up. “I’ve drunk far too much wine to give a damn about how many people are around, and frankly, so has everyone else. Come on!”

 

 Remus heaved a sigh. Then he tipped his hat to them, saying in farewell as Sirius dragged him away, “Milord, milady.” Ginny gave Harry a grin and leaned on his shoulder.

 

   “They should move to France and get married,” she said.

 

   “One day, I expect they will,” Harry replied, picking up her plate of half-eaten cake, as he’d finished his. Ginny rolled her eyes at him, turning her gaze back to the dancers. Colin was still taking photographs, though Demelza was standing next to him holding two glasses of what looked suspiciously like champagne, one of which Ginny guessed to belong to Colin. Tonks seemed to have never left the dance floor, though now she was dancing with Oliver Wood. A red-faced Ron was being dragged along between Alicia and Katie in some imitation of the cancan, both girls holding glasses of champagne and singing along to the music. Ginny wondered if she and Harry would able to sneak glasses of champagne by then; it was their wedding after all. She glanced around, spotting her mother across the marquee talking with Harry’s grandmother, then a tray of champagne floating past their table. She snagged two glasses and handed one to Harry.

 

   “Ooh, are we allowed alcohol now?” Harry asked as he accepted the glass.

 

   “I think so,” Ginny answered. “After all, we’re legally adults because we got married, and it’s our wedding. Cheers,” she added, clinking her glass against his.

 

   “Cheers,” he replied as they both drank. The taste was quite sweet and at the same time refreshing; the alcohol was barely detectable in all the bubbles. Ginny decided she quite liked champagne.

 

 After they drank the first glass of champagne and a second – and Harry had finished her cake –, they went back out to dance again. Ginny felt much lighter all of a sudden, as though the bubbles of the champagne had filled her blood and made her float, or maybe it was the newlywed glow, she wasn’t sure. The Weird Sisters started playing and they ended up in a group of their schoolmates in the center of the dance floor, singing along and dancing with each and every one there. Colin had put away his camera finally and had been roped into a dance with George, so Ginny grabbed Demelza and twirled her around while her friend laughed. She, Demelza, Hermione, and Luna all ended up dancing with each other in a variant of ring around the rosies, Ginny and Luna belting out every word.

 

 But the song ended, and the group dispersed. Neville and Luna had to leave at that point, Charlie offered to show them to the Floo so they could return home once Ginny had finished hugging them. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia and Fred, George, and Lee vanished somewhere during the chorus, Ron and Hermione just after the end of the song, Dean and Seamus returned to the food table, but Harry and Ginny found seats, followed by Demelza and Colin. Demelza grabbed more champagne for the four of them, and they all clinked glasses before drinking.

 

   “This has been the best Christmas ever,” Demelza said, then hiccupped. “Ginny, I am so glad you decided to get married.”

 

   “So am I!” Ginny said, hugging her friend.

 

   “I’m the gladdest,” Harry declared, throwing his arm around Ginny and kissing her cheek. His face was flushed from the alcohol and his hair had been knocked out of the many charms Sirius had used to tame it, returning it to the messy, curly disaster it normally was. Ginny grinned at him and leaned in for a kiss.

 

   “Hold it!” Colin suddenly declared; they froze while Colin pulled out his camera and took a picture. Ginny leaned across the table to see it. She and Harry were grinning as they kissed each other, her veil draped over her shoulder and Harry’s hair sticking up a good two inches above his head.

 

   “Aw, we look so cute,” she cooed.

 

   “The cutest,” Colin agreed. “You look so in love.”

 

   “We are,” Harry said, dropping his head onto her shoulder.

 

 Demelza giggled. “You’re, like, so cute it’s killing me.”

 

 Ginny grinned; she was vaguely aware of Colin taking another picture. “Harry’s the best,” she said.

 

   “He certainly is pretty photogenic,” Colin said, snapping another photo as Harry grinned.

 

   “He’s certainly pretty,” Demelza laughed, making Ginny giggle and Harry blush.

 

   “Gin, Gin, you’d better know how lucky you are,” Colin said suddenly. “Harry’s one of the prettiest boys at Hogwarts.”

 

   “He’s the prettiest,” Ginny corrected him. “There’s none prettier than Harry.”

 

   “He’s in the top three, at least,” Colin admitted.

 

   “The top one!” Ginny insisted.

 

   “Who’s prettier than me?” Harry asked around his glass of champagne. “Other than, Ginny, obviously.”

 

   “Aw, darling, you’re so nice,” Ginny laughed, hugging him.

 

   “Don’t get me started on how many pretty people are at Hogwarts,” Colin sighed. “There’s a million pretty boys in Gryffindor alone, and I’m not even counting teachers, because, honestly, Professor Black is the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

 

   “Ew, you have a crush on my godfather,” Harry laughed. “Wait, what?” he added, frowning at what he had just said.

 

   “But who’s prettier than Harry?” Ginny pressed. “No one, that’s who!”

 

   “Oliver Wood,” Colin said, ticking off on his fingers. “Ooh, Eddie Carmichael.”

 

   “Oh, god, Carmichael!” Demelza sighed. “I’d transfer to Ravenclaw if it meant I could see Eddie Carmichael every day.”

 

   “Eddie Carmichael is not prettier than Harry,” Ginny said, sticking her nose in the air. “His eyes are dull.”

 

   “His eyes are the color of hot chocolate, thank you very much!” Demelza insisted.

 

   “Harry’s are the color of emeralds,” Ginny told her.

 

 Demelza faltered. “Fine, Harry’s prettier than Eddie Carmichael.”

 

   “Yeah, and Oliver Wood graduated two years ago,” Ginny said. “Update your list, Colin.”

 

 Colin rolled his eyes as he sipped his champagne.

 

   “Who else is prettier than Harry, though?” Demelza said.

 

   “No one!” Ginny declared. Harry had buried his face in her veil at about the same time Colin mentioned Carmichael, but at that lifted it to kiss her cheek.

 

   “Thank you for defending my honor as the prettiest boy in Hogwarts,” Harry said, slurring a little.

 

   “You’re welcome,” Ginny told him. He pecked her lips and dropped his head onto her shoulder again.

 

   “I think Thomas might be prettier than Harry,” Demelza said. “He’s so tall,” she added in a dreamy voice.

 

   “No, he slouches a lot and he’s always wearing the exact wrong colors for his skin tone,” Colin said. “Sure, he’s pretty, but not prettier than Harry.”

 

 Demelza tapped her nose, then suddenly grinned and nudged Colin. “I know someone that you think is prettier than Harry.”

 

   “Who?” Ginny asked as Colin frowned.

 

   “Everything from his blonde hair to his pale eyes is beautiful in your mind, Colin,” Demelza said, grinning even more evilly.

 

 Colin suddenly turned red. “Mel!” he protested.

 

   “Who is it?” Ginny asked.

 

  “Don’t judge me,” Colin said, then paused, and downed the last of his champagne. “Draco Malfoy.”

 

   “What?” Ginny and Harry both cried.

 

   “I said don’t judge me!” Colin protested.

 

   “He claims it’s from an artistic point of view,” Demelza said, “but I know he just likes that bad boy air Malfoy’s got.”'

 

   "I do not!" Colin insisted.

 

   “You want bad boy you go after Zachariah Smith, or Cormac McLaggen,” Ginny said with a sniff, “but Malfoy? He’s evil!”

 

   “I know!” Colin said. “I never said I liked him, he’s just arguably prettier than Harry!”

 

   “Malfoy is not prettier than me!” Harry insisted. “That is impossible!”

 

   “From an artist’s perspective, yes,” Colin said. “His cheekbones are sharper and his eyes are more piercing, in general, he’s more aesthetically pleasing.”

 

   “I refuse to accept that,” Ginny said. “No one is prettier than Harry.”

 

   “Who’s prettier than Harry?” asked Hermione as she dropped into a chair.

 

   “No one!” Ginny insisted. Harry’s face turned a darker shade of pink and he dropped his head onto the table.

 

   “Eddie Carmichael,” Demelza said. “I think at least. And, apparently, Malfoy.”

 

 Hermione wrinkled her nose. “No! He’s horrible!”

 

   “You have to admit, he’s very aesthetically pleasing,” Colin said.

 

 Hermione gave a sigh. “He is, and that makes it so much more annoying that he’s a git.”

 

 Colin pointed to Hermione. “Even Granger agrees with me!”

 

   “Ginny, the artist says that Malfoy is prettier than I am,” Harry said, “let it go.”

 

    “I am an artist too!” Ginny said. “And so’s Dean; Dean!”

 

   “Coming!” called back Dean, and a moment later he appeared, holding a plate of mini sausages and with Seamus behind him. “What’s up?” he asked as he grabbed a chair.

 

  “From an artist’s perspective, who’s prettier, Malfoy or Harry?”  


 Dean blinked. Seamus laughed and dropped into a chair. “Come again?” Dean asked.

 

   “Is Malfoy prettier than Harry?” Demelza asked. “Disregarding the both of their characters, based on physical attractiveness alone.”

 

   “This is a much too logical conversation than I wanted to get into,” Colin sighed.

 

   “Harry,” Dean decided. “Malfoy washes himself out with his pale skin and hair.”

 

   “That just makes him more aesthetically pleasing!” Colin insisted.

 

 Dean raised an eyebrow. “You got something against brown skin?”

 

 Harry straightened up. “Yeah! Although I’m only one-quarter Indian, I think.”

 

 Hermione glanced between Dean and Harry and hastily adopted a stern expression as Dean said to Harry: “That still counts, mate.”

 

   “I have nothing against brownness,” Colin said calmly. “It is also extremely aesthetically pleasing, I was merely saying that the combination of Malfoy’s pale skin, hair, and eyes make him more aesthetically pleasing than Harry.”

 

   “That’s a fat load of bull, Colin, and you know it,” Demelza said. “You think Malfoy’s prettier because Harry went and got himself married.”

 

   “That’s perfectly acceptable,” Hermione said as Colin let out a frustrated groan and dropped his head onto the table. “Right?”

 

 Dean shrugged. “I’ll take it.”

 

   “Excellent, Harry is prettier than Malfoy, case closed,” Ginny said.

 

   “Wait, who on earth tried to say Malfoy was better looking than Harry?” asked Ron as he sat down.

 

   “Oh, hi, Ron,” Ginny said. “Colin did.”

 

 Ron gasped while Colin threw his hands in the air. “I just said that he was more aesthetically pleasing!”

 

   “You can’t like Malfoy!” Ron said. “He’s a prick!”

 

    “I don’t like Malfoy!” Colin insisted. Demelza smirked, and Colin elbowed her. “He is very much a prick, and it’s extremely unfortunate that he’s so pretty because he’s a prick.”

 

   “Enough about Malfoy,” Hermione sighed. “I don’t care how pretty he is, he’s a horrible person.”

 

   “Everyone has opportunity to become good, though,” Colin said to her.

 

   “Theoretically,” Hermione sighed, lifting Ginny’s champagne glass. “Do you mind?”

 

   “Oh, here, have your own,” Ginny said, snatching a glass from a passing tray. Hermione thanked her and took a sip.

 

   “Lovely,” she sighed. “Better than French champagne.”

 

   “Champagne is always French,” Dean said. “If it’s not French, it’s sparkling wine.”

 

   “It’s better than the champagne I had in France the year before last,” Hermione clarified.

 

 Ginny, glad that the subject of Malfoy’s attractiveness had dropped, grinned. “Mum spent ages picking out the champagne and wines,” she said. “Said it was almost more important than the cake.”

 

   “Almost being the important part,” Seamus said through a mouthful of cake.

 

   “Nothing is more important than cake,” Ron agreed.

 

   “I don’t like cake,” Demelza said.

 

   “Really?” Ron said. “Are you even human?”  


 Hermione hit Ron’s shoulder while Demelza scowled at him. “I’m at least half human,” she said smarmily. “Mum wouldn’t tell me what kind of alien my dad was.”  


   “What?” Harry said, utterly confused. Demelza rolled her eyes.

 

   “My dad ran off when I was a baby,” she said. “I like to joke that it was because Earth’s gravity didn’t agree with him.”

 

   “Hey, my dad vanished when I was a kid, too,” Dean said.

 

   “Whoo, kids without fathers’ club,” Demelza cheered half-heartedly.

 

   “Well, I’ve got a step-dad,” Dean admitted.

 

   “Traitor,” Demelza responded, waving a finger at him.

 

   “Me dad divorced me mam when I was eight, does that count?” Seamus asked.

 

 Demelza shrugged. “Sure.”

 

   “My dad died,” Harry said.

 

   “That most certainly counts,” Demelza said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you count as an orphan.”

 

   “Yeah, I think so too,” Harry said. “Though, I’ve got Sirius and Remus.”

 

   “Yeah, but they’re not your parents,” Seamus said. “They’re, what, your godfathers? Wait, why do you have two godfathers?”

 

   “Remus is Harry’s godmother,” Ginny sniggered. Harry snorted, then rolled his eyes.

 

   “I just have two godfathers,” Harry said. “And they’re pretty close to parents.”  


   “And you’ve got our parents,” Ron said. “Not only that, they’re your parents-in-law.”

 

   “Ah, yes, never thought I’d be on such good terms with my mother-in-law,” Harry said.

 

 Ginny laughed, leaning on his shoulder. “I think you’re her favorite son,” she told him.

 

   “Probably,” Ron chuckled.

 

   “I’m sure Mrs. Weasley doesn’t pick favorites,” Hermione said.

 

   “Be hard to,” Seamus said. “The whole lot of ‘em are wicked cool. Did you see Bill? He’s got a fang earring!”

 

   “Came from a tomb in Egypt,” Ron said.

 

 Seamus’s eyes got wide. “Wow,” he muttered.

 

Just then, Krum appeared behind them, holding his cloak over his arm and with Fleur behind him, her cloak already drawn over her shoulders. “Potter?”

 

   “Krum, Fleur,” Harry said, quickly standing up. “Are two you leaving?”

 

   “Yes, it is getting late,” Krum said. “Ve are staying in the same hotel.”

 

   “Bonsoir, Madame Potter,” Fleur said, leaning in and kissing Ginny’s cheeks, then Harry’s. “I wish you many ‘appy years.”

 

   “Thank you, Fleur,” Ginny said with a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

 

 Krum shook Harry’s hand, then kissed Ginny’s. “It vas a very enjoyable evening,” he said. “Thank you again for inviting us.”

 

   “Goodbye,” Harry said to them as they left. They stood, watching as their two guests walked out of the marquee and down the old dirt road until they reached the gate and Disapparated.

 

   “I still can’t believe you invited Viktor Krum,” Seamus said as they took their seats. “He nearly beat the Irish national team at the World Cup!

 

   “The Irish still won,” Harry said with a wave of his hand.

 

 Seamus huffed but checked his watch. “Krum had a point,” he said. “It’s nearly midnight.”

 

   “Is it, really?” Ginny asked, looking at Harry’s watch.

 

   “Yeah, Dean, we should get going,” Seamus said.

 

   “Are you two staying in the village?” Hermione asked.

 

   “Nah, we’re staying at me mam’s,” Seamus told her. “Dean’s doesn’t have a Floo connection.”

 

   “You can use our Floo to get back,” Ron told him, standing. “I can show you.”

 

 Seamus nodded, rising from his seat. “Yeah, me mam said we should.”

 

 Dean threw the last of his mini sausages in his mouth. “See you back at Hogwarts,” he said to Harry and Ginny as he stood up. “It was great to be here.”

 

  “Thank you for coming,” Ginny said, getting up to hug him. “It was great to have you,” she added, hugging Seamus.

 

   “I had a swell time,” Seamus said, patting her shoulder. “Best wedding ever.”

 

   “You’ve never been to a wedding before,” Dean said as Ron led them away. Ginny folded her arms over her chest, watching them go. She looked around, seeing that plenty of other people had left when she hadn’t been paying attention, mostly her relatives. She spotted Tonks sitting at a table with her mother, Harry’s aunt, and his grandmother, looking rather morose, and walked over to her.

 

   “You look like you’re having fun,” Ginny said to her, dropping into a seat.

 

   “Oh, Ginny, congrats so much,” Harry’s grandmother said, sounding rather tipsy.

 

   “Oh, yeah, I am,” Tonks said, smiling at her. “It’s just, everyone’s drunk and I can’t have any of the champagne.”

 

   “Why not?” Ginny asked as she frowned.

 

 Tonks sighed and leaned back in her chair, her hands falling on her stomach. “Can’t drink alcohol when you’re pregnant,” she said.

 

   “You’re pregnant?” Ginny gasped.

 

  _Tonks is pregnant?_

 

   “Don’t shout about it,” Tonks hushed her. “But, yeah, I am.”

 

   “Congratulations,” Ginny said with a grin. “Since when?”

 

   “October,” she answered.

 

   “When you went to America,” Ginny said, nodding.

 

   “Yep,” Tonks sighed. “Totally not planned.”

 

   “Who’s the father, if you don’t mind me asking,” Ginny added hastily.

 

 Tonks gave another sigh. “I don’t mind. You remember the American Auror who was killed that the _Prophet_ wrote about?”

 

   “Yeah,” Ginny answered. “Oh, no, it’s not him, is it?”

 

 Tonks nodded. “It’s just my luck to get pregnant just to have the dad killed the next week.”

 

   “I’m sorry,” Ginny said, touching her shoulder.

 

 Tonks shrugged, giving her a smile. “I’ll make do,” she said. “I’ve decided to carry it to term, though I don’t know whether or not I’ll keep it. I might give it up for adoption.”

 

   “Whatever you do, I’m here for you,” Ginny said.

 

 Tonks’s smile warmed and she laughed. “Normally, it’d be me, the adult, telling you, the teenager, that, but I appreciate it.”

 

 Ginny’s mum looked up and seemed to only just notice her. “Oh, Ginny, there you are,” she said; Ginny fought the urge to laugh, because she was certain that even her mother had had maybe one too many glasses of champagne. “You and Harry are free to go by now, you know,” she said. “We’ve worked it all out, you two are going back to the farm, and his gram and Petunia will stay here so they’re out of your way.”

 

 Ginny felt herself blush. “Oh, okay,” she said.

 

   “Don’t you worry about tomorrow, either, Sirius and Remus have promised to take you to the aero ship plane thing,” Mum mumbled. “I dunno, the Muggle way to your honeymoon.”

 

   “Thanks,” Ginny said, feeling her blush increase. “I’m just going to go…” she got up and walked back to the table where Harry was still sitting with Ron, Hermione, Colin, and Demelza.

 

   “Your mum is so thoughtful,” Harry said as she sat down.

 

   “Oh, shut up,” Ginny said, still blushing. He laughed.

 

   “Why’s she thoughtful?” Demelza asked with a frown.

 

   “Never mind,” Ginny said.

 

 Colin had packed up his camera. “We should go,” he said. “It is really late; you two probably want to leave for your honeymoon thingy so you can sex it up,” he added with a knowing look.

 

   “Oh, yeah, let’s leave before they do,” Demelza said as she got up. “Ron, can you escort me and Colin to the Floo?”

 

   “Colin and I,” Colin corrected her.

 

   “Shush,” Demelza said, waving a hand at him.

 

   “Bye,” Ginny said, opening her arms for a hug; Demelza hugged her and dropped a friendly kiss onto her cheek.

 

   “I can be French, too,” she said, grinning. “I’ll see you at Hogwarts, Gin.”

 

   “Byeee,” Ginny echoed to Colin as she hugged him too. “See you at Hogwarts.”

 

   “This way,” Ron sighed, evidentially tired of escorting people to the Floo.

 

   “Such nice friends,” Ginny sighed, leaning on Harry. “They’re cute together.”

 

   “They’re not dating,” Hermione said.

 

 Ginny waved a hand. “I can dream,” she said. “They’d make cute babies.”

 

   “They would,” Hermione sighed. “Lovely babies with his greeny-bluey eyes and her dark hair.”

 

   “Adorable babies,” Ginny murmured.

 

   “Oh, Colin had a point,” Hermione said. “Get out of here; you’re leaving really early tomorrow, aren’t you?”

 

   “Mhmm,” Ginny murmured. “The flight leaves at eight, we have to be there at six. Oh, Harry, Sirius and Remus are taking us to the airport. Apparition, I think.”

 

   “Okay,” Harry said.

 

   “How long does it take to get there?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Nearly 22 hours,” Harry said, yawning. “We’ll land really early Wednesday morning.”  


   “Oh, why did we pick Australia?” Ginny mumbled.

 

   “Sirius and Remus did, and because it’s very Muggle,” Harry said. “At least, Sydney is.”

 

   “Right,” Ginny sighed.

 

 Hermione waved her hands. “Whichever. Get going, if you’re leaving at six, you want to get at least a few hours sleep before you go.” She gave them a knowing look.

 

 Ginny giggled. “Yeah, I s’pose. How are we getting to your grandmother’s house?”

 

 Harry shrugged. “Walk?”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’m not walking in this,” she said, pointing to her dress.

 

   “I’m Apparating you,” said Remus’s voice. She looked up and waved to Harry’s godfather. He was still wearing Fred’s top hat.

 

   “Thank you, Remus,” Ginny said with a smile. “You’re very kind.”

 

   “But you do have to double check your bags before you leave,” he said. “So, you should go upstairs and make sure that you’re all packed for your honeymoon now so you can go.”

 

 Ginny gave a sigh. “I know I’m packed,” she said.

 

   “I’m mostly packed,” Harry admitted.

 

 Remus shrugged. “Well, go on.”

 

 Ginny rose from her chair and reached over to hug her maid of honor. “Bye, ‘Mione,” she said. “See you when we get back.”

 

   “Bye,” Hermione said, squeezing her gently. “Bring me something nice, yeah?”

 

   “Of course,” Ginny grinned. “Something from a shitty tourist trap gift shop, right?”

 

 Hermione laughed. “That’ll do,” she said. “Have fun.”

 

 Harry gave Hermione a hug as well, then the two of them returned to the house and went up to her room to get their bags. Ginny hadn’t been lying when she said she was completely packed, so as Harry threw the last of his things in his suitcase, she sat on the bed waiting for him. They each had one small suitcase that had been enchanted to expand and hold no extra weight, plus one carry-on bag each; their school bags. Ginny had managed to get all of her freshly acquired lingerie into her suitcase without Harry noticing, except for the best set, which, she recalled as she sat fidgeting with her veil, she was wearing.

 

  “Ready,” Harry said after some fifteen minutes’ work.

 

 Ginny nodded, getting up and tossing her veil down onto the bed. She didn’t need it anymore. She grabbed her school bag and her suitcase, then followed Harry from the room and back to the first floor. Remus was waiting for them in the sitting room, reading a magazine. He looked up and set the magazine aside as they approached.

 

   “Good?” he asked them.

 

   “Yep,” Harry said.

 

 Remus rose from his chair and gestured for them to exit. “I’ll Apparate you to the farmhouse’s gates,” he said. “The wards won’t let me Apparate any closer, of course.”

 

 Ginny started towards the dirt road and the gates, then paused. “Let me say goodbye to my parents,” she said, setting down her bags.

 

   “Of course,” Remus said. Harry set down his bags and followed her back to the marquee. She found her parents sitting at the same table, her father looking tired but happy, her mother still tipsy.

 

   “Goodbye,” Ginny said to them, hugging her mother.

 

   “Goodbye, love,” Mum said as she kissed her cheek. “Have fun.”

 

   “Bye, Daddy,” Ginny said as she hugged her father. “We’ll see you in two weeks.”

 

   “Bye, princess,” her dad said as he smiled at her. “Enjoy yourselves.”

 

   “Do I get a hug too?” Harry’s gram asked.

 

   “Of course,” Ginny said with a laugh, complying. Harry hugged her mother and his gram, then his aunt and they started towards the exit. They found Sirius and Tonks standing with Remus, Tonks looking very tired.

 

   “Ah, there they are,” Remus said. “Sirius and I were just discussing what time we were meant to collect you in the morning.”

 

   “We have to be at the airport at six, right?” Harry said.

 

   “Yes, but it doesn’t take long to Apparate there,” Sirius said. “We wanted to know whether or not you wanted to get food in between.”

 

 Harry gave a shrug. “We can get something at the airport.”

 

   “How about this then, we Apparate to the airport at five thirty,” Remus said. “That way, you have time to eat.”

 

   “Sounds good,” Harry said.

 

 Remus gave a nod and picked up their carry-on bags, handing them to them. “Then let’s get going,” he said. “Shall we?”

 

 They took their bags and started towards the gates. Sirius and Tonks followed them; they would be Apparating back to their flat.

 

   “See you,” Tonks said as she hugged the two of them. “Have a lovely time.”

 

   “Thank you,” Ginny said. “Bye.”

 

 Remus gripped their arms, then he twisted on the spot, and they were sucked into one point to be expulsed onto the yard of Mrs. Evans’s farm.

 

   “I take my leave,” Remus said, bowing to them and sweeping off the top hat he had still not given back to Fred. “I shall see you in the morning.”

 

 Ginny giggled, then Remus Apparated away. Harry looked at Ginny. Her heart was pounding, and she knew his was as well.

 

   “Shall – shall we go in?” he asked.

 

   “Yeah,” she said, shrugging her bag higher up on her shoulder. “Erm, you can carry me over the threshold to our room, you don’t have to carry me all the way up there.”

 

   “Oh, good, I wasn’t sure that I’d be strong enough to carry you up a flight of stairs.”

 

 Ginny unlocked the front door with her wand, then Harry helped her carry her train into the house before he shut the door and locked it again.

 

   “Should we just leave our things here?” Harry asked, gesturing to the bags.

 

 Ginny looked at them, then nodded. “We won’t need them until tomorrow anyway,” she said.

 

 Harry flushed, his gaze falling. “Right,” he said, dropping his bags. “Erm.”

 

 Ginny looked at him, then kicked off her shoes and bunched up her skirt. “Race you to our room!” she called, taking off for the stairs.

 

   “Hey!” Harry shouted after her, but she was already halfway up them; she glanced over her shoulder, laughing, then staggered out of the stairwell. But Harry had caught up to her; he grabbed her arm, and the two of them crashed into a wall.

 

   “Ow,” she mumbled, giggling.

 

   “Sorry,” he said, looking down at her. He was a good four inches taller than her now. Ginny licked her lips, her skirt slipping from her hands. Harry’s eyes were not on hers, but on the neckline of her dress.

 

 His gaze flicked back up to hers, then leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It started off soft; Harry gently kissing her, but then it deepened. She felt his hands at her waist, then he was pulling her tightly against him and his hands were slipping down to her hips. Ginny pressed her hands against his chest, grabbing onto his tie and pulling him downward, closer to her. His hands slid from her hips to her ass, making her gasp into his mouth. Harry seemed for a second to pull away, then his hands returned and he pressed her into him. Ginny’s heartbeat was going a million miles per hour, and she could feel his heart beating the same against her chest.

 

 Harry pulled his lips back, then quickly bent and scooped her into his arms. Ginny gasped, flinging her arms around his neck.

 

   “Threshold,” he said. “Gotta carry you over the threshold.”

 

 His glasses were lopsided. Ginny fixed them, making Harry smile. “Go on, then,” she said.

 

 Harry walked carefully down the hallway; his arms were shaking almost unnoticeably, but his room wasn’t far. Ginny opened the door with her wand and Harry set her down inside.

 

 She stared at him a moment, feeling the ghosts of his hands on her ass, then she reached up and slipped the sleeve of her dress off her shoulder. Harry stood there, staring at her, his eyes very wide. Ginny glanced at him, then pushed the other shoulder off. Harry stepped closer, his hands lifting to touch her bare shoulders. She sucked in her breath; Harry’s fingers drifted over her collar bone, then downward to the neckline of her gown. The touch, even over the lace of her dress, sent shivers down her spine. Her stomach twisted into knots and she felt something in her like a spark, waiting and needing for more to fuel the fire.

 

   “Go on,” she whispered.

 

 Harry looked up at her. He licked his lips, then he returned his hands to her shoulders and pulled at the sleeves of her dress; slowly, painstakingly, he tugged it downward, until the first hint of lace caught his eye and he froze, staring. Ginny reached up and took his hands, pushing down. Her gown fell to the floor with a soft thump.

 

 Harry’s eyes darted up and down her body, his mouth open. Ginny stepped out from the pile of her dress and reached for his tie. She pulled it loose, then cast it aside. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of her chest, until she began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

 

   “I can –” he mumbled, raising his hands, but Ginny waved them away.

 

   “I want to do it,” she said. Harry gulped.

 

 Ginny’s fingers trembled as she unbuttoned his shirt, then pushed it and his robe off of his shoulders. She pressed her palms to his arms, then pulled them up, pressing her hands to his chest. Harry’s heart was beating fast beneath her fingers. She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

 

 Harry lifted her into his arms again. She went quietly this time as he carried her from the doorway to the bed. He laid her down gently onto its surface, then just stood there, his eyes drinking her in. Ginny lifted her arms over her head, her legs crossing on their own in response to her body’s shaking. Harry climbed onto the bed, his knees falling on either side of her hips and his hands framing her shoulders.

 

   “You’re beautiful,” was all Harry said.

 

   “So are you,” Ginny answered. “Now kiss me.”

 

 He didn’t need telling twice; his lips all but attacked hers, his arms dropping to his elbows to press against her. Ginny pushed her hands into his hair, her back arching into him. Harry broke his lips from hers to kiss down her chin to her neck, then dragged his lips from her clavicle to her cleavage; she gasped and moaned as he began to suck a hickey into her skin, his lips and tongue driving all thought from her mind. His hands found her back and fumbled with the clasp of her bra, then unhooked it and pulled it away. He lifted up to stare at her, his expression something reserved for the works of Van Gogh or Monet. Then he bent and kissed her again, Ginny murmuring his name under her breath, her mind filled with what his lips were doing and how amazing it felt. She felt his hands at her hips, then moving back up her waist to her chest as he dropped kisses up her shoulder to her neck and caught her lips once more. Ginny pressed her hands to his back, then moved them down to grab his ass and press his hips to hers.

 

   “Those need to come off,” Ginny whispered into his ear as she pushed her fingers past the waistband of his trousers.

 

   “Right,” Harry muttered, lifting up to fumble with his belt. Ginny slipped further up the bed, pulling her whole body onto it. Harry discarded his trousers and hesitated at his boxers. He looked up at her. Ginny bit her lip, her heart pounding. The fire that had started in her stomach had spread to her whole body, lying just under her skin and itching for more.

 

 Harry dropped the boxers onto the floor, then crawled up to her. His hands went to her hips, pulling away her last bit of clothing, leaving them both exposed and bare.

 

 Ginny couldn’t take her eyes off him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She reached out, her hand shaking as she touched him. Harry’s eyes squeezed shut, falling to his knees as she sat up and pressed her lips to his, her hand closing on him. She felt his heartbeat, his blood rushing through his ears, his mind overflowing with the sensation. Ginny abruptly released him, then fell back on the bed, her eyes fixed on his. Harry knelt over her, kissing her once more, his hips lining up with hers.

 

 Hermione had been right. It didn’t hurt. Ginny immediately moaned, her back arching and her knees lifting to press against his hips. Harry’s breath was heavy in her ear, her name slipping from his tongue as his escaped her mouth. Her mind filled with colors, bright red and pink and purples that were the only thing she could use to describe the perfection and the delight of what was happening. The colors intensified as did the pleasure, until it mounted so high she couldn’t hold it any longer; then Harry gave and she clutched him to her, her fingers gripping his hair. Her toes curled.


	53. It's the Newlywed Glow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Hello, Happy Valentine’s day, I hope you’re pleased with my good timing to put the honeymoon on Valentine’s Day. How was that for some fake-smut? And yeah, there’s more to come, if you don’t want to read any of it stop at  
> _ “ Are we doing this here? Ginny found herself thinking ” _and resume at_ “ There was a mess on the floor ”, _stop at_ “ “You are so vulgar sometimes,” he said ” _and resume at_ “ The bath water and perfumed steam made her feel rather sleepy ”. _I hope you lot are pleased, this entire chapter made me blush scarlet; my mum reads this fic! Mum, please, just skip this chapter! Actually, just skip until after the bath. You’ll figure it out. Have a Happy Holiday-That-Was-Invented-By-Greeting-Card-Companies, and if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending that I don’t exist._  
>  _The pancake recipe included in this chapter is brought to you by Delia Smith, a Gengar, and Dan Howell’s SEGA boxers._

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

**It’s the Newlywed Glow**

**Ginny**

 

 

  _Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep…_

 

 Ginny vaguely remembered Harry setting an alarm after they’d gone to bed the night before, but as it continued to beep annoyingly across the bed, she wished he hadn’t. She clamped a pillow over her ears and tried to ignore it. Harry grumbled something half audible, then the sound cut out. Ginny let out a sigh of relief and settled back, relaxing.

 

_Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep…_

 

  “Harry, turn it off,” Ginny mumbled.

 

 Harry groaned, then shifted in the bed. “Gin, it’s nearly five. We need to get up.”

 

   “No,” Ginny murmured. “We don’t have to leave until five thirty.”

 

   “Come on, get up,” Harry said, patting her arm.

 

 Ginny waved him away. She felt him lean over then kiss her cheek before he shifted again and got out of bed. Ginny turned to look over her shoulder as Harry walked towards the bathroom, his bare back and arse barely visible in the low light. She turned back over and hugged the blankets to her chest, wanting to fall asleep again.

 

 She heard the toilet flush, then the tap turned on and off again, and Harry’s footsteps left the bathroom. He touched her shoulder.

 

   “Do you want to shower first?” he asked.

 

   “I’ll shower later,” she mumbled.

 

   “We have a 20-hour flight, Gin.”

 

   “Ugh,” Ginny groaned.

 

   “I’ll shower first.”

 

 Ginny nodded and turned away again. She tried to think of what she had been dreaming, recalling something about a train station. As her thoughts turned, she could hear Harry in her mind getting ready to shower. He turned on the bathroom light and Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, wanting it to go away. She pulled her pillow back over her head.

 

 She drifted off again, her brain returning to the train station. She was walking down platform ten with her mother, though her brothers were nowhere to be seen. They turned a corner, and her mother vanished. Ginny looked around, but she had been wrong, they weren’t in a train station. She was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. She squeezed her eyes shut once more, then rolled over.

 

 Harry was in the shower by then. Half asleep, she listened as he began to murmur a tune while he washed his hair. The water felt very nice on his back, he thought. It was warm and eased tension in his shoulders that he hadn’t realized he had. Ginny wondered why she’d been dreaming of a train station as Harry rinsed the shampoo from his hair.

 

 _Where’s my soap?_ Harry thought.

 

 Ginny’s eyes snapped open. She could hear Harry. The door wasn’t shut.

 

 _What?_ Harry thought.

 

 Ginny reached out in her mind and groped for the door to his thoughts to pull it closed. Harry was confused, then abruptly embarrassed.

 

  _I thought I closed it!_ he insisted.

 

  _It’s okay,_ Ginny answered him, then her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t find the door.

_Say again?_

 

  _I can’t find the door._

_Well, look harder!_

 

 Ginny threw an arm over her eyes, trying to concentrate. The door was always in the back of her mind, always ready to be shut and block thoughts from his mind to hers. But it wasn’t there anymore.

_It’s gone._

 

 She lifted her arm and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. Harry slumped against the shower wall, staring with a frown at the curtain. Ginny opened her own eyes and stopped seeing through his, but she could feel him groan and shut his own.

 

  _Ah!_

 

 Ginny jumped; _What? What’s wrong?_

_I – You – Erm, your –_

 

  _What?_

_Boobs._

 

 Ginny flushed bright red and jerked her gaze upward. Harry had opened his eyes already, she could tell he was no longer seeing through hers. Her heart was beating rapidly in her ears, as was Harry’s.

 

 _So, the door is gone and when I close my eyes I see what you’re seeing,_ she thought.

 Harry was quiet. Ginny glanced towards the physical bathroom door, which was shut, her eyebrows raising. _Harry?_

 

 She closed her eyes, but saw nothing but darkness. Had it gone?

 

 Then an image appeared as Harry opened his eyes. Ginny blushed again.

 

  _Erm, sorry._

 Ginny took pause to think, not sure how to respond. _It’s fine,_ she thought. It was, it was just…

 

  _Unnerving._

_Yeah._

 Ginny hesitated, thinking. But she was cold, so she lifted the blanket and pulled it over herself. She tried to ignore the sensation that Harry was disappointed and shut her eyes, seeing him rubbing at his under his glasses, heard him sigh and watched his hands drop. She could see all of him.

 

 Harry started and hastily jerked his gaze up. Ginny felt her ears get hot, as did something else. Harry’s own temperature was high.

 

 But then his gaze dropped again and Ginny bit her lip. He glanced up, at the shower curtain and the bathroom door.

 

  _You, erm, do you want to – erm…_

 

_Join you?_

 Harry shrugged. She saw through his eyes as he hugged himself, his gaze dropping again.

 

 Ginny pushed the blankets off herself and slipped out of the bed. Her heart skipped a beat as she pushed open the bathroom door and stepped towards the shower. Harry’s glasses had slipped down his nose.

 

 Ginny stepped in and the heat of the water combined with her thudding heart made her knees feel shaky. Harry’s eyes flicked up and down her body, then fixed on her own. She kissed him, the water making their skin slick and the steam making her brain foggy.

 

 She didn’t end up washing her hair. They had to get out of the shower before that could happen. Instead, she just hoped no one on the plane would notice if it got a little greasy.

 

 Remus and Sirius arrived exactly at five-thirty, as Harry and Ginny were coming down the stairs with their bags.

 

   “You look particularly chipper for this ungodly hour,” Sirius said, grinning at them. Remus, who was sipping a cup of coffee that Ginny presumed he had brought with him, gave Sirius a dirty look.

 

   “It’s the newlywed glow, I expect,” Ginny answered shortly. “Remus, you look particularly not chipper.”

 

   “I blame him,” Remus grumbled into his coffee. “Bloody wanker doesn’t know when to stop…” His voice trailed off into his cup.

 

 Sirius merely grinned. “Late night,” he explained, patting Remus on the small of his back – Remus winced, for some reason. “Are you all packed and ready?”

 

   “Yep,” Harry said. “Though, I don’t quite know why you both have to come. Remus looks like he’d rather be fast asleep right now.”

 

   “Someone thought it’d be a good idea to take a trip to Paris while you’re in Sydney,” Remus said in a snippy voice. “And that it was an excellent plan to take a plane leaving at the same time yours does.”

 

   “Well, half an hour after, but who cares?” Sirius said. “We’re going to take advantage of the break between now and the next semester.”

 

   “That sounds like a wonderful plan,” Ginny said. “Cheer up, Remus, think of all the expensive French wine Sirius’ll buy you.”

 

 Remus quirked an eyebrow. “I do enjoy wine,” he said softly. Sirius laughed and threw an arm about his shoulders.

 

   “That’s the spirit!” he said, now heading for the door and the gate to the road where they could Apparate. Outside, Sirius shrunk hers and Harry’s bags so they could stick them in their pockets, then offered an arm to them. In a kind of group hug, Sirius twisted on the spot, and the four of them were sucked into space; a second later and with a loud _CRACK_ , they dropped into a darkened alleyway.

 

   “We’ll take a cab from here to the airport,” Sirius said. “It’s only a minute away.”

 

   “What about breakfast?” Harry asked as his stomach grumbled.

 

   “We’ll eat there,” Remus said, vanishing his coffee with a wave of his wand. “Come on, then.”

 

 Sirius hailed a taxi within a minute or two; he and Remus claimed the backseat, and Harry and Ginny played _Rock, Paper, Scissors_ to see who got the front. Ginny won, leaving Harry stuck between Sirius and Remus.

 

   “Shouldn’t Sirius be in the middle?” Harry complained. “He’s the shortest!”  


   “Oh, shut up, you beanpole,” Sirius protested. “I’m tall for an Asian person!”

 

   “Because you’re half French,” Remus said, his head slightly bowed to avoid touching the ceiling. “But Harry’s right, swap.”

 

 Sirius grumbled about it, but swapped with Harry, who smirked towards Ginny.

 

_You’re still not tall, Harry._

_I’m 5”10!_

_Still._

_You’ve no room to talk, you’re 5”6._

_5”6 and a half, thank you very much._

 

 Harry rolled his eyes at her; she knew this because she’d shut her eyes halfway through the exchange and she could see his vision spin.

 

   “Heathrow Airport,” Sirius said to the driver.

 

   “Right you are,” the driver answered him.

 

 Not ten minutes later, the taxi driver was pulling up under a portico at London-Heathrow. Sirius paid him with a few Muggle bills, then quickly ushered Remus, Harry, and Ginny inside. There were light flecks of snow falling from the sky, the air was bone-chilling, and none of them were wearing winter coats. Inside, the airport was already packed and bustling with people leaving or returning home, even though it was barely a minute before six a.m. Sirius led them through ticket inspection and baggage check, though all their bags were shrunk and weightless in their pockets – the woman inspecting their tickets gave them confused looks at their lack of parcels but for carry-on bags –, then quickly through security and towards the gates. They stopped at a café near Harry and Ginny’s gate for breakfast, taking a moment to linger over their coffee. Before she knew it, it was past seven and their plane would be boarding soon.

 

 Remus and Sirius led them to gate 14B, staying with them until a flight attendant announced that boarding had begun. They hugged both of them, then waved goodbye as Harry and Ginny made their way onto the plane.

 

 Their seats were in first class, which Harry swore to Ginny was significant, but Ginny only shrugged and dropped into her seat. Harry took the aisle seat, already inspecting the pocket in the chair in front of him for bags of free nuts. Ginny noticed an eye mask and quickly snatched it, despite Harry’s complaints, snapping it over her forehead and leaning her chair back.

 

   “Wake me up when we take off,” Ginny said, tugging the mask over her eyes.

 

 But instead of letting her brain shut off, she was immediately seeing through Harry’s eyes as he scowled at her.

 

   “Damn,” she muttered, yanking it off again. “Will I ever be able to sleep while you’re awake?”

 

 Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. But we’re leaving for our _honeymoon_ , Gin. Please do try to pay attention to me.”

 

 Ginny laughed and leaned in to peck his cheek. “You’re such a needy husband,” she quipped.

 

 Harry snaked an arm about her waist and drew her closer to press his lips against hers. “Comes with the title,” he said, dropping a kiss onto her neck. Ginny shivered.

 

  “Welcome to Flight 1277,” came a sudden, booming voice; Ginny jumped a bit, looking around, but Harry patted her shoulder. _It’s just the captain_ , he thought. “This is your captain speaking.” _Told you._ “Please direct your attention to the stewardess at the head of your cabin…”

 

  _These Muggles are so strange_ , Ginny thought as the captain began narrating the flight stewardess’s actions in an _In Case of Emergency_ spiel.

 

  _Well, they don’t have wands to conjure a perfectly good rowboat in case the plane goes down._

 

 Ginny jerked her gaze to Harry with wide eyes, but he hastily elaborated his thought; _That’s not likely to happen though, don’t worry._

 

 Ginny nodded, but her worry did not leave her face. The flight stewardess, standing a few rows ahead of them, caught her eye and smiled more widely. Ginny felt a little more nervous at the obvious falsity of her smile than anything else. The spiel was quickly over and the captain requested they don their seatbelts for takeoff. Ginny barely recognized the contraption that Harry was locking about his lap from diagrams in her father’s study, but managed to get it on without too much trouble. Then she heard the engines jump to a roar and stiffened in her seat as she got the sudden sensation that they were moving. Harry patted her hand, pointing to the window. Ginny looked, and stifled a squeak at the sight of the airport outside slowly drifting away as the plane began its taxi down the runway.

 

 _Do you want me to Stun you?_ Harry asked her.

 

 Ginny shook her head. _You can’t get away with that in here, everyone would notice. Besides, I’d rather not be unconscious for any part of our honeymoon_.

 

 An hour later, she was fast asleep with her head rested on Harry’s shoulder. He was too, but that was beside the point. Her brain returned to the dream she’d been having that morning, of walking down a train station with her hand firmly clasped in her mother’s.

 

 Ginny woke slowly, feeling her side somewhat stiff and her legs achy. She sat up, stretching and yawning softly. She looked back at Harry, but he was still asleep with his mouth slightly open. She let out a quiet chuckle. If she had known five years ago that her imaginary friend travelling to her village would result in this…

 

 Harry shifted and stretched, then opened his eyes and smacked his lips, looking around blearily. “Are we there yet?” he mumbled, now rubbing his eyes with his fists like a child.

 

   “Harry, it’s a 22-hour flight,” Ginny reminded him, then checked her watch. “We have about 17 hours left.”

 

   “Damn,” Harry yawned, then reached down into his school bag to take out _Two Towers_. “Do you want to see if we can finish this before we land?”

 

 Ginny snorted. “There’s barely half the book left, Harry. We’ll probably finish _Return of the King_ before we land.”

 

 Harry shrugged and cracked the book. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder to listen.

 

  _Two Towers_ was finished by about half past two, and by then the two of them were both quite hungry. A stewardess was bringing carts of food by, and another was asking passengers if they wanted to order anything from the kitchen. One of them stopped by their row and asked Harry with a very wide but polite smile if they wanted anything to eat. They ended up ordering sandwiches and cans of soda, eating their lunch in relative silence. Harry dug out _Return of the King_ and they began the third book in the trilogy.

 

 They did manage to finish the book before the flight had ended. In fact, they had only a few hours left before they were due to touch down in Sydney, so they took the rest of the time to sleep, waking just in time as they began their final descent into Sydney Airport, by the captain speaking over the loudspeaker. Ginny felt less anxious as she had been during take-off, now leaning on the window to look down as the plane touched down. She started a bit when the passengers began to clap as the engines died, but joined in quickly.

 

 They exited the plane with everyone else, walking hand-in-hand through the airport. They made a stop at the bathrooms before walking out towards the exits, where they found a man in a pressed suit and tie holding up a sign with Harry’s name on it.

 

   “Erm, hi,” Harry said to the man.

 

   “Mr. H. Potter?” the man asked, lifting his sunglasses.

 

   “Yes, that’s me,” Harry said. “Are you our driver?”

 

   “I am, sir,” the man answered, now taking off his sunglasses and pocketing them. “One Mr. Black arranged for my services while you are staying here in Sydney. I shall take you to your beach house.”

 

   “Ooh, a beach house,” Ginny said. “Lovely.”

 

 The man tucked the sign under his arm and stuck out his left hand. “My name is Akers, sir.”

 

    “Good to meet you, Mr. Akers,” Harry said, shaking his hand. “Erm, lead on, I s’pose.”

 

 Akers inclined his head, then offered to take their bags. Ginny gave him hers, rather impressed. Their driver led them outside and to a sleek, black car.

 

   “Wow,” Ginny said in a soft murmur as Akers opened their door. “Sirius pulled out all the stops, now didn’t he?”

 

   “Thank you,” Harry said to Akers, though he too was trying to contain his glee. Akers shut the door for them once they had settled themselves into the car, and Ginny took a moment to examine the car; it was much larger inside than she had thought it would be, and tucked in a corner was something that looked suspiciously like a bar.

 

 Akers got into the driver’s seat, interrupting her examinations. As he turned the key in the ignition, he looked at them in his rear mirror; he’d put his sunglasses back on, even though it was dark out still. Or rather, already; Ginny glanced at an onboard clock and saw that her watch was very far behind.

 

   “I do hope you and your wife enjoy your stay here in Syndey,” Akers said to them. “The Australian Ministry is honored to have you visit our country.”

 

 Harry’s ears flushed and Ginny became abruptly aware of the fact that the car was much larger than it should have been. Akers drew out a long, dark wand and tapped the steering wheel, and the car began to maneuver itself into traffic.

 

   “I shall be your guard as well as your driver,” he explained. “I understand that your standing with the Wizarding World is rather under scrutiny at the moment, Mr. Potter.”

 

   “Are you an Auror?” Harry asked Akers.

 

   “I believe that is what they call it in England,” Akers said. “Here, we are simply called police.”

 

   “I thought Sydney was a very Muggle city?” Ginny asked him, sitting up straighter in her seat.

 

   “It is, for the most part,” Akers said. “However, there is a thriving magical community outside the city’s limits, and our Ministry of Magic is located within the city.”

 

   “Trust Sirius to land us with a babysitter on our honeymoon,” Harry said with a chuckle to Ginny, who rolled her eyes.

 

   “At least they didn’t come along,” Ginny reminded him.

 

   “You’re right,” Harry said, leaning back in his seat and smiling at her. “I expect they’re in Paris by now.”

 

   “Probably enjoying the fact that they haven’t got you trailing along behind them,” Ginny quipped, elbowing him lightly. He laughed and gently shoved her away, but she shifted closer and rested her head on his shoulder.

 

   “So, are you going to drive us everywhere?” Harry returned his attention to their escort.

 

   “Within reason,” Akers admitted. “I’m not keen on taking you all the way to the desert to go on a safari.”

 

   “’Course not,” Harry said. “In the city, I mean.”  


   “That’s what I’m being paid for,” Akers said, his eyebrows raising above the level of his sunglasses. “I’ll have to stick with you whenever you leave your beach house, as well, for your own protection.”

 

 Harry deflated a little, until Akers added: “In the background, naturally.”

 

   “Alright,” Harry accepted. “Thanks.”

 

 Akers just nodded, his head turning away from the mirror to watch for the traffic again, even though the car was driving itself.

 

 It took them about half an hour to reach the beach, at which point Harry and Ginny were sitting up and staring out the windows to catch sight of the ocean. They passed through a little neighborhood community of beach houses, but then the houses began to thin out, until there were long gaps between each one. The car finally turned off the paved road onto a sand and gravel driveway, leading off to a distant building. They gathered at the driver’s side window to watch as they neared their destination, until the car finally came to a stop underneath a small portico.

 

 Akers got out to open their door for them, but Harry beat him to it, offering Ginny a hand out of the car. The Australian Auror got their bags out of the boot, then pulled a set of keys from his pocket.

 

   “Here you are,” he said, handing them to Harry. “The house has been warded to keep away unwanted visitors, and there is an anti-Disapparition ward set over the house. I shall be staying up the lane, and there are instructions on how to contact me inside.”

 

   “Thank you, Mr. Akers,” Harry said.

 

 Their driver bowed, then got back into the car and drove off; they watched until the car disappeared past a line of trees, then turned to face their (granted, temporary) vacation home. A set of steps to their left led up to a balcony and the second floor. Beneath the portico was a garage door and a storm door before a white painted door. Harry glanced up the balcony, then headed for the storm door, Ginny behind him. They unlocked the door with the key and stepped into a small kitchen decorated all in soft shades of blue and gray.

 

   “It’s lovely,” Ginny said with a soft smile. They moved into what looked like a dining room to match the kitchen, then found a set of stairs leading up. The second floor had a sitting room with all wicker furniture and white cushions, the walls the same soft blue as the kitchen below, the wallpaper border at the top bearing a seashell and starfish design. Off the sitting room was a large bedroom, and beyond it was a master bathroom, complete with a huge bathtub that looked like a small swimming pool, complete with a varying array of bath salts, oils, bubbles, and more.

 

   “I want to use that,” Ginny declared.

 

 Harry glanced at her and suddenly grinned. “Can we use it at the same time?” he asked. Ginny blushed, thinking of that morning, though really it had been the day before, she reminded herself.

 

   “Let’s unpack and see about some food,” she said instead, taking her shrunken suitcase from her pocket and setting it on the bed. Harry did the same and they enlarged the two suitcases together, then made quick use of the wardrobe and chest of drawers. After unpacking, Ginny wandered back down to the first floor, feeling rather hungry and not at all tired, even though it was nearing eight in the evening, according to the clock over the stove. She hoped that the refrigerator would be just as stocked as the bathroom upstairs, and was greatly pleased when she opened it to see it full.

 

   “Sirius did a good job,” she said as she heard Harry coming down the stairs. “Look at this.”

 

 Harry dropped his head onto her shoulder as he leaned in to examine the fridge. “Ooh, chocolate,” he said, grabbing a Chocolate Frog. Ginny snorted, but took one as well.

 

   “Hey, there’s a note,” Harry said.

 

 She shut the fridge and walked over to where Harry was standing at the sink; the window over the sink looked out over the ocean, she saw, giving them a beautiful view of the beach and the tide slowly creeping over the sand.

 

    _“Dear Harry and Ginny,”_ Harry read. _“Welcome to Sydney! I do hope that you’re finding your rental house up to par, but if there’s anything you need, just tell Akers and either he’ll get it for you or he’ll drive you to where you’ll be able to get it. Use the fireplace, the address is 224 Seashell Drive, Guest Cottage. There’s plenty of Floo powder upstairs, and the fireplace is approved for international calls; not trips, though, but I don’t imagine you’ll want to pop back over to the Burrow any time soon.”_

 

   “Neither do I,” Ginny said, making Harry chuckle.

 

   _“Akers, by the way, is not just your driver for the next two weeks; unfortunately, he’ll have to follow you everywhere you go. Sydney may be filled to the brim with Muggles, but you can never be too careful. He’s the top of his field at the Australian Magical Police, be grateful you’re so famous and can get a police escort wherever you are, Harry, otherwise Remus and I might have had to come along with you.”_

   “We figured that out on our own, Sirius,” Harry said, snorting, to the letter.

 

   _“There’s a whole bunch of brochures and the like in the sitting room upstairs, so you can go and have a look around the city and not spend the entire time cooped up there. It’s summer down under, so feel free to make use of the beach by the house; it’s attached to the lease, so no one should bother you. Have fun, and don’t get pregnant! Lots of love, Sirius, and Remus! Fine I’ll add your name to the note, and Remus. Thank you, Sirius. Yeah, fine, but you owe me. Sirius, it’s still going. Is it? Oi, stop! No, stop dictating! Quill, stop dictating! Quick Quotes, stop! Cease, desist! End!”_

 

 Harry gave a laugh and dropped the note back onto the counter. “Typical,” he murmured. “Quick Quotes Quill, I ask you.”

 

 Ginny just shook her head and made her way back to the fridge, opening it and leaning in. “What are you in the mood for?” she asked him, peering between the shelves. “Looks like all the basics are in here, cheese, meats, ketchup and mustard.” At Harry’s silence, she glanced back at him; he blushed and quickly lifted his gaze from her butt. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she straightened up again. “I meant for dinner,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

 

   “Sorry,” he said. “Right. Dinner. Erm.”

 

 Ginny shook her head and turned back to the fridge. “We had sandwiches for lunch. How about breakfast foods, instead? It’s technically morning our time.”

 

   “Sure,” Harry said. “Pancakes?”

 

 Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Again? We had pancakes the past four days!”

 

   “What’s wrong with pancakes?” Harry demanded.

 

 Ginny sighed and shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose. What about scrambled eggs and bacon?”

 

   “With pancakes?”

 

   “Ugh, fine, with pancakes.”

 

   “Yes,” Harry said, pumping his fist. Ginny rolled her eyes at him, turning back to the refrigerator.

 

   “I hope you know how to make pancakes then,” she said, “because I haven’t got a clue.”

 

 Harry snorted. “Do I know how to make pancakes,” he muttered. “Alright, watch closely; this is Delia Smith’s personal recipe.”

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow as Harry started pulling things out of the cupboard. “Who the hell is Delia Smith?”

 

 He shrugged. “Some cooking lady, I s’pose. Get milk, eggs, and butter from the fridge, will you?”

 

 She echoed his shrug and went along with it. Harry had produced a bowl from the cupboards as well as a bag of flour and a small jar of salt.

 

   “I don’t see a sieve anywhere in here,” Harry murmured, his head buried in the cupboard.

 

   “A what?” Ginny said.

 

   “A sieve,” he answered, looking back at her. “Did you never pay attention when your mother was trying to teach you to cook?”

 

   “Apparently not?” Ginny said, shrugging. Harry rolled his eyes and started opening drawers. “What are you looking for now?” she asked him, setting down the eggs, milk, and butter on the counter.

 

   “Measuring things,” he answered. “Ah, here.” He produced a strange plastic contraption and set it on the counter, then started pressing buttons on it.

 

   “What are you doing now?”

 

   “Measuring out the flour,” he said. “It’s a scale.”

 

   “Then, why does it not look like a scale?”

 

 He looked at her with an incredulous expression. “It’s electric,” he said as if that was obvious.

 

 Ginny shook her head at him as he started pouring flour into the cup on the scale. As if “electric” meant anything to her.

 

   “I heard that,” Harry said, now pouring flour into his bowl.

 

   “I know,” she quipped, then pecked his cheek.

 

   “Add a pinch of salt for me,” Harry told her, now digging around in the drawers again. Ginny opened the little jar of salt by the stove and carefully added some to the flour, flicking her fingers to get it out from under her nails. “Ah, here’s one.”

 

   “One what?” said Ginny as Harry straightened back up; he shoved a metal tool into her hands. “What is this?”

 

   “Good grief, Ginny, did you actively avoid the kitchen? It’s a whisk!”

 

 She shot him a scowl. “What do I do with it?” she shot back.

 

 He gestured towards the bowl of flour and salt. “Whisk that together while I measure out the milk.”

 

    “Whisk it?” she repeated, looking uselessly at the wire contraption. Harry let out a groan.

 

   “Never mind,” he said, plucking it from her fingers and plunging it into the flour. Ginny decided she would much rather hang back and observe than help, and dropped another kiss onto Harry’s cheek.

 

   “Go on, teach me how to make pancakes,” she said.

 

 Harry leaned back and quickly kissed her lips. “No offence, but you’re hopeless.”

 

   “So!”

 

 He laughed and started measuring out milk. “Fine, start adding eggs.”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes at him.

 

 Fifteen minutes later, Harry was ladelling batter into a flat-bottomed pan and Ginny was watching with fascination. He moved automatically, gently shaking the pan every so often, then he lifted it up off the stove and gave his wrist a flick and the pancake was in the air; Ginny tried not to gasp as it flipped, then landed soundly into the pan again. Harry gave Ginny a grin that clearly stated that he was pleased with himself.

 

  “How in the name of Merlin did you not drop that on the floor?” she demanded as he set the pan back down.

 

 Harry merely shrugged. “Practice.”

 

 He let her try flipping the next one. It hit the ceiling, needless to say, but after her fourth try – granted, with him helping – she successfully flipped a pancake.

 

   “I did it!” she cried. “I did it, Harry!”

 

   “Congratulations, love,” Harry told her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek from behind.

 

 Ginny grinned. She understood his grin from minutes before; she was quite pleased with herself, as well. Never mind the three pancakes that Harry had had to unstick from the ceiling.

 

   “I think we should be fancy and eat in the bathtub,” Ginny said to Harry as she sprinkled sugar and lemon juice over her pancakes. Harry looked over at her, his brow furrowed. “What?” she said.

 

   “I think we should eat at the table,” he answered. “Because – because if we ate in the bath, I don’t think I’d be able to concentrate on eating.”

 

 Ginny blushed. “Fair point,” she mumbled, then grabbed a fork. But now she was thinking about being in the bath with him, and she wasn’t quite as hungry as she’d been earlier. “Well, we could still take a bath.”

 

   “Sure,” Harry said, much too quickly. Ginny glanced at him and giggled. He blushed.

 

 They dropped into seats next to each other at the dining room table. Ginny tried to savor her food, but she was still thinking about that bath; Harry was too, which made her feel better, although he wasn’t bothering to eat slowly. He finished his long before she did, and ended up sitting on his hands, rather impatient. Ginny thought it was quite amusing. The minute she swallowed her last bite, Harry was grabbing her hand and pulling her up out of her seat.

 

   “Careful!” she warned him as he nearly knocked over their chairs.

 

 Harry flushed, dropping her hand to right the chairs. Ginny glanced at the dishes, then at Harry and decided to leave them for the moment. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest now. She grabbed his hand again, then pressed her lips to his. Harry quickly set his hands at her waist, dropping hers to do so, his lips pressing back eagerly. Her hands ended up in his hair, her weight resting on her toes as she reached up to press against her husband.

 

 _Still want that bath?_ Harry thought.

 

 _I don’t care_ , she answered. Her back struck something hard, the wall she guessed. Harry slanted his lips on hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth as he pressed himself against her. She reveled in the feeling, at his heavy breathing, his heart beating fast in time with hers. She wanted to be closer, to feel him against her skin; her hands moved from his hair to his shoulders, sliding down to his chest and tracing lines of his muscles.

 

 There was skin beneath her fingers but she didn’t remember him taking his shirt off. Harry pulled back, startled, to look down at his suddenly bare chest. Ginny’s eyebrows shot up.

 

   “Did you just vanish my shirt?” he asked.

 

   “Not intentionally,” she laughed. Harry met her eyes and she blushed again. He screwed up his eyebrows, his lips pursing in concentration.

 

  _What are you –_ she began to think, but stopped at the abrupt chill against her skin. She looked down at herself with a gasp.

 

   “You vanished my shirt!” Ginny accused.

 

   “Intentionally,” Harry answered, and his mouth was at her neck and she was too busy loving the feeling of his lips on her skin and his hands fumbling with the clasp of her bra to care.

 

  _Are we doing this here?_ Ginny found herself thinking; Harry’s crotch was stiff and pressing into her and with each movement of his mouth on her neck she felt herself reacting more.

 

  _Who cares,_ was all Harry would answer, and to be honest, the acknowledgement that that _was_ what they were doing was enough for her. Then Harry managed to get her bra unhooked and his mouth was abruptly lifting. Ginny glanced down at him, then quickly shut her eyes again with a soft gasp as his lips touched her chest. His hands were pressing firmly against her hips, half crouching and half leaning down to suck bruises into her skin. Harry dragged his mouth back up her sternum to her collar bone and finally back to her mouth, his hands flying up to replace his mouth. Ginny’s fingers were digging into his back and her lips tore at his feverishly. Her knee lifted and hooked itself around his legs, a need for friction somewhere deep in her bones. Harry quickly dropped his hands to cup her butt, lifting her up and she wrapped her other leg around him as he pinned her between the wall and himself. His bare skin pressing against hers was hot and felt right.

 

 Then Harry shifted his hips in a gentle, rolling movement and she gasped into his mouth. Her thighs clenched on their own and he released a quiet moan, the vibrations deep in his throat and making her breath catch in her throat. Ginny’s hands fell from his chest to his waist then to the waistband of his trousers, half wondering if her accidental vanishing of his shirt would work on his trousers.

 

 Harry let out a yelp and quickly pulled back, letting her drop onto her own feet, his lips puffy and his face very red. “Ginny!”

 

   “What?” she said, half confused and half blissfully unconcerned. Though, if she was honest, she was primarily miffed that he’d stopped kissing her.

 

 Harry spluttered for a second longer. “You vanished my boxers!” he finally hissed.

 

 Ginny snorted, then quickly laughed. “Sorry, darling, it’s hard to concentrate on what I’m taking off of you at the moment.”

 

 Harry flushed even brighter, but leaned back in to kiss her. _So, we should move?_

_Probably._

_You want to take that bath you were talking about?_

_There’s a perfectly good table right behind us._

 

 Harry paused at that. “Really? The table?”

 

 Ginny’s fingers closed on the front of his jeans. “Are you going to be fussy about it or are you going to fuck me?” she asked, not bothering to be polite.

 

 Harry, being Harry, blushed and spluttered, but Ginny grabbed him in another kiss, intentionally backing him up until he hit the table, the chairs conveniently pushed off to the side. She pressed herself to him, her arms snaking around his waist and her lips dropping to his jaw.

 

   “You didn’t answer,” she murmured, now moving her lips to his ear. Harry quickly returned his hands to her back, automatically pulling her closer; she started to suck on his earlobe and he murmured something unintelligible. “Well?” she whispered and smiled as he shuddered.

 

   “Fine,” he muttered.

 

   “Say it,” she said, suddenly wanting to hear it come from his lips.

 

   “I’m going to fuck you,” Harry mumbled, and Ginny grinned as a shiver went down her spine. Harry flipped them around, his mouth attacking hers. Her fingers returned to his hair, her fists closing in the mess of it and tugging gently. Harry’s teeth closed on her lip, a grin forming on his lips. “You kinky woman,” he murmured against her mouth. “What, you like dirty talk?”

 

   “Who knows,” Ginny said, leaning in to press her lips to his again. “Just fuck me.”

 

   “You do,” Harry laughed as he dodged her kiss. “You like it.”

 

   “You like it when I pull your hair,” she countered, tugging gently to prove her point; she felt him twitch against her hip and grinned. “You’re the kinky one.”

 

   “We’ll both be kinky,” Harry muttered, his lips pressing against her neck; she arched it, her eyes fluttering shut. His mouth came to her ear and he whispered, making her shiver: “As long as I fuck you, right?”

 

   “Please,” she murmured. Harry chuckled, his breath falling on her ear.

 

   “I’m going to fuck you, Ginny,” he said and she shuddered again.

 

   “Stop yakking and do it, then,” she muttered.

 

 Harry sniggered again, pressing his lips to her neck once more. “What if I want to take my time about it?”

 

 Ginny nearly whimpered as he ground his hips into hers again, making Harry grin into her neck. “Stop teasing me,” she mumbled, her fingers clenching in his hair. Harry swept his tongue over a sensitive spot on her neck, making her gasp.

 

   “What if I like teasing you,” he murmured. “We’re all entitled to our kinks.”

 

 Ginny felt like hitting him and snogging him at the same time; she wasn’t sure what to do. She settled for vanishing his jeans.

 

   “Hey!” he exclaimed. “That’s not fair!”

 

 She vanished her own jeans, catching his lips with hers. _I don’t care._ Harry’s fingers pressed to her hips and lifted her onto the table, vanishing the last of her clothing in return. Ginny let out a gasp and a moan, her fingers digging into his scalp; her legs closed around his hips, his hands tight on her waist. A lot of things flew through her brain, Harry’s name dripping from her lips, the sound of her own in her ear punctured by Harry’s quiet moans and his soft utterances of the word that made her insides clench making it hard to think of anything but his movements and his voice and just _Harry…_

 

 There was a mess on the floor and Ginny had to hold onto the table, her legs were still shaking. Harry was leaning against the wall, his chest falling and rising rapidly with his still heavy breathing. He grinned at her.

 

   “I love you,” he said. “I’m so in love with you.”

 

 Ginny blushed; she was leaning on the dining room table, stark naked and coming down from an incredible orgasm, and she was blushing because he’d said he was in love with her. Harry grinned wider.

 

   “We should get dressed,” she said, slipping off the table. Harry caught her hand and pulled her to him quickly, his lips pressing to hers.

 

   “I can’t express how much I’m in love with you,” he murmured. Ginny pressed a still shaking hand to his cheek and kissed him back, gently this time.

 

  _Me, neither, Harry._

 

   “We should get dressed, though,” Harry said, glancing around. “Erm. Where did our clothes go?”

 

 Ginny shrugged. “Into nonbeing?”

 

 Harry looked at her with a frown. “Nonbeing?”

 

   “Yeah, that’s where vanished objects go. Nonbeing. It’s a common question to get into Ravenclaw tower.”

 

   “But how do we get them back?” he asked, picking the one bit of clothing that had been removed rather than vanished from the floor. “Because I really like that tee shirt.”

 

 Ginny snatched her bra from him and put it on quickly; Harry watched in fascination. “I’m not sure how to summon vanished objects,” she said. “Sorry.”

 

 Harry snatched his wand from the table and screwed up his face in concentration. Nothing happened. “ _Accio my favorite shirt!_ ” he tried. There was a soft pop and he was suddenly no longer shirtless. Ginny tried not to pout as he summoned the rest of his clothes, rather, she grabbed her own wand and summoned her own clothes.

 

 Harry yawned, and Ginny agreed with him before he even opened his mouth. “Sleep,” she said, grabbing his hand. He nodded, then started towards the kitchen. He paused, then looked back at the table. “We can get the dishes later,” she said hastily, not wanting to wash up.

 

   “No, erm, the, erm,” Harry turned pink. “Never mind, _Evanesco!_ ” Ginny turned back as Harry vanished the mess of spunk on the floor. She blushed too. “I mean, I figured we ought to send that into nonbeing as well.”

 

 Ginny suddenly giggled. “‘Into nonbeing, that is to say, everything,’” she quoted. Harry flushed scarlet.

 

   “Well, great,” he muttered. “Thanks for that little fact, Gin.”

 

 She kept giggling all the way back upstairs, only quieting when Harry caught her in another kiss. The two of them flopped onto the large bed in the master bedroom, their eyes shutting in tandem as they both fell asleep.

 

 She was a little girl again, holding her mother’s hand as they walked through King’s Cross. She was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as she walked, excitedly anticipating stepping through the barrier and greeting her older brothers after four whole months of not seeing them. This Christmas was going to be the best, yet, she was sure of it.

 

   “Hold on tight, now, dear,” her mother reminded her; they were nearing Platform Nine now.

 

   “Yes, mum,” she answered. Abruptly, a man in dark robes bumped into her. “Ow!” she exclaimed, though she was not really hurt.

 

   “Sorry,” the man told her in a gruff voice and hurried off. Her mother clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

 

   “…always rushing about,” she muttered. “Ginny?”

 

   “Yes?” she answered.

 

   “Hey, Gin, what do you want to do about breakfast?”

 

 Ginny woke with a start, Harry was sitting in bed next to her, reading through a brochure. “What?” she mumbled as she blinked sleep from her eyes and sat up.

 

   “Breakfast,” Harry repeated. “What do you want to do about breakfast?”

 

 Ginny paused to yawn, covering her mouth with a hand. “I dunno,” she mumbled, her eyes shutting again. She was instantly given a vision of her own self, sitting back against a pile of pillows with her eyes shut. She quickly opened them, disconcerted by the sudden, third-person view. “What’re the options?”

 

   “We could stay in and make it,” he answered, “or go out.”

 

 Ginny glanced around for a clock. It was half-past 8 in the morning, apparently, though she felt sure it was much earlier. “I don’t feel like cooking,” she answered him, shifting her position to look at him.

 

   “Me neither,” Harry replied. “Sirius left a bunch these brochures in the sitting room; there’s a lot of restaurants in the area, plus lots of things to do. I figured we could go out for breakfast, then do some sight-seeing. What do you think?”

 

 Ginny turned her eye on the brochures, picking through them while she though. “Sounds good,” she said. “Oh, but let’s visit this carnival after breakfast instead of going sight-seeing,” she added. “It looks much more interesting.”

 

 Harry gave a shrug. “Alright, but where do you want to go to breakfast?”

 

   “You pick,” Ginny said, yawning again. “I’m going to get a shower.”

 

 Harry might have blushed as she got out of bed, but Ginny chose to ignore it. She really did need to wash her hair, after all. She made an effort to shower as quickly as possible, however. After ten minutes, she got out and dried herself with a wave of her wand before wrapping herself in a dressing gown and exiting the bathroom.

 

   “I’m going to get a shower, too,” Harry said. She nodded vaguely as he passed her to enter the bathroom, going to the wardrobe to find clothes for the day.

 

  _So, where are we going to breakfast?_

_Local diner. Apparently, it has the best crab-cake Eggs Benedict anywhere._

_What’s Eggs Benedict?_

_You’ll find out._

 

 Ginny shrugged, now getting dressed. Harry exited the shower a few minutes later, while she was sitting on the bed and looking through the rest of the brochures. “What about going to the Sydney Opera house?” Ginny asked him.

 

 Harry briefly glanced up from the chest of drawers. “Sure,” he said. “Erm, I’ve never been a great fan of opera. I didn’t realize you were.”  


   “No, but it’s supposed to be a must-see for Sydney,” she said, looking up. Harry paused on his way back into the bathroom to get dressed.

 

   “Sure,” he repeated. “But we take a tour of the city first.”

 

   “Fine,” she said. Harry paused, looking between the bathroom and her and his clothes. “Just change,” she said, exasperated at his indecision. Harry’s cheeks flushed. “We’ll be seeing each other naked plenty of times from now on,” she reminded him.

 

 Harry hesitated more, then crossed over to the bed and dropped his clothes onto it. Ginny fixed her eyes on the brochure in her hand while he dressed. Or, at least she tried; she glanced at him a few times, but he didn’t ever meet her gaze.

 

   “Right,” Harry muttered, tossing his towel into the bathroom. “Erm. Breakfast?”

 

   “Yes,” Ginny said, jumping up from the bed. “Breakfast. Let’s call Akers so he can drive us.”

 

 Harry caught her wrist as she started for the door and she stopped to face him. “What?” she said. Harry shrugged, then quickly kissed her.

 

   “Love you,” he said, dropping his hand to clutch hers.

 

   “I love you, too,” she answered in a murmur.

 

 After they called Akers, it took him only a few minutes to pull up to the portico with the same sleek, black car that had delivered them the night before. The diner Harry had picked wasn’t far either, but they lingered over their breakfast, leaving sometime after ten in the morning, Australia time. Harry reset his watch to match the time zone, but Ginny left hers on English time, so they would be able to tell what time it was back home. After their breakfast, they met Akers in the car, telling him about the carnival they wanted to see. He merely nodded in silence and tapped the steering wheel with his wand. Akers was proving to be a very quiet individual.

 

 The carnival was extremely fun; there were acrobats and contortionists who Ginny could hardly believe were not using magic, tigers and lions – “Oh my,” Harry had said in a deep voice, then giggled to himself – paraded around the circus ring like show dogs, clowns and knife throwers and more. They spent almost the whole day at the carnival, leaving barely in time to get food before returning to their beach house. They waved Akers off, then climbed the stairs to the balcony and the second floor.

 

   “I’m exhausted,” Ginny said with a yawn. She dropped onto the couch and let her eyes fall shut; Harry dropped down beside her and wrapped an arm around her.

 

   “Today was great,” he murmured in her ear. “We should honeymoon more often.”

 

 Ginny giggled, hugging his chest and curling up on the sofa. “Sure, Harry,” she mumbled.

 

 He pressed a kiss to her hair, his eyes closing as well.

 

   “What about that bath?” Ginny murmured, cracking open one eye. Harry looked down at her and smiled.

 

   “Sure,” he said. “I’d love to.”

 

 Ginny grinned and got up from the sofa, grabbing his hand. “Come on, then,” she said, tugging him up. Harry chuckled at her, letting her pull him from the sitting room towards the master bedroom.

 

   “Eager, are you?” he mocked. She threw him a scornful look over her shoulder, but it wasn’t very effective as she smiled halfway through.

 

   “My feet ache from walking around all day,” she told him.

 

 He raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s not the only thing that’s aching?”

 

 Ginny flushed, but couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “We’re honeymooning, Harry,” she reminded him. She set a hand on his chest and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “We’re supposed to do it lots and lots of times.”

 

 Harry flushed; he leaned in to kiss her and she darted away. “Hey!” he protested; she laughed at him and ducked into the bathroom, coming to a slippery halt on the polished white tile. Harry ran in and crashed into her, his arms flying out and grabbing her around the middle. She shrieked as he lifted her up and hugged her to his chest.

 

   “Gotcha!” he laughed, pressing a kiss to her ear. She giggled, his scratchy chin tickling her neck. “I heard that,” he said.

 

  “It is scratchy!” Ginny laughed as he set her down. “You haven’t shaved since we left England.”

 

 Harry scowled. “Should I shave now?” he asked, crossing his arms.

 

   “Well, not right now,” Ginny said. “Later, maybe.”

 

 He rolled his eyes at her. “You’re ridiculous,” he decided. Ginny giggled again and kissed him.

 

   “You married me,” she pointed out, then turned away. Harry grabbed her in another hug, his arms locking around her waist and his face nuzzling her neck.

 

   “That doesn’t stop you from being the most ridiculous person in the world,” he said softly in her ear. She shivered. He pressed his lips to her neck again, exhaling and causing her skin to prick. “Do you want to draw the bath?” he asked her.

 

   “Right,” she muttered. “Are you going to let go of me?”

 

 Harry shrugged. “Do I have to?”

 

   “I think so, yes.”

 

 Harry let out a deep sigh, his breath falling on the back of her neck. “If you insist,” he murmured and released her. Ginny turned around and kissed him again, then turned back to the large bathtub. Even with her husband standing right behind her and the thought of the both of them in the same bath, she was excited to try out the salts and oils lining the shelves behind the tub. She pulled off her socks, then climbed into the tub and twisted the taps. Cold water spurted out, then turned quickly hot. She moved over to the shelves of luxuries.

 

   “What do you think?” she asked, looking back at Harry. “There’s plenty of choices.”

 

 Harry sat down on the marble edge of the tub and made a show of peering across to look. “I don’t care,” he said, dropping the pretense.

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes. “How about lavender and honey?”

 

   “No, I don’t like honey.”

 

 She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t like honey?”

 

 He shrugged. “It’s too intense.”

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Coming from the boy who will down entire treacle tarts at a time?”

 

 He raised a finger in defense; “Hey, those are varied in flavor.”

 

 Ginny rolled her eyes, again. Harry chuckled. “Fine,” she murmured. “Lavender and vanilla, then.”

 

   “Are you trying to put us to sleep?” Harry asked.

 

   “No!”

 

Harry pulled off his own socks and rolled up his pants legs; Ginny was standing ankle deep in water by now. He walked over to her and pulled down a jar of pink salts. “Here, hibiscus and rose.”

 

 Ginny looked at it. “What’s hibiscus?”

 

   “Just use it,” Harry said. “And these bubbles.”

 

 Ginny shrugged as Harry took down a bottle of red bubble bath and opened the jar of salts. She sprinkled it over the water while Harry poured the bubble bath into the water, foam quickly forming. As he was pouring, Ginny stepped over to the side and sat on the edge before carefully removing her clothes. Harry hadn’t turned around yet, so Ginny carefully lowered herself down into the water, the bubbles covering her lap rapidly; she pulled more to her to cover her chest as well as the water level rose steadily. Harry put the cap on the bottle, having used up nearly half of it, she thought, and set it down, then turned back to her.

 

   “There,” he said, and tugged his shirt off. Ginny raised her eyebrows and smirked. “What?” he said. She just shrugged. He abruptly grinned at her, his hands dropping to the waistband of his jeans. Ginny sat up a little bit straighter as Harry stepped closer to her, then intentionally let her gaze drop. Harry carefully pulled his jeans off, not letting them touch the water, and set them aside. He was standing right beside her now, looking down at her.

 

   “Well?” she said. Harry’s cheeks reddened, but he bent and removed his boxers.

 

 Ginny took his hand and pulled him down to sit next to her. Harry draped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in closer to him, then pressed his lips to her cheek. The water level had reached her waist, the bubbles fully coating the surface of the bath. Ginny angled herself in to face him, setting a hand on his chest.

 

   “This is nice,” she murmured quietly.

 

   “Yeah,” Harry answered in a whisper.

 

   “Harry?”

 

   “Hmm?”

 

 Ginny looked up at him, an innocent expression of contentedness on her face, marred only by her slight smirk. “You wanna fuck?”

 

 Harry blinked at her. “You are so vulgar sometimes,” he said, then kissed her. Ginny pushed her hands up to lock behind his neck, twisting her body to swing a leg over Harry’s lap. Immediately, she felt him reacting beneath her, her own body flooding with blood and heat at the sensation. She slanted her lips on his, his tongue swept across her lip and she opened her mouth, half biting his lip. His hands came to her chest, his fingers pinching and making her gasp softly. She could feel him getting harder beneath her and she pushed her fingers into his hair, pulling gently; he twitched and she couldn’t help but moan. Harry pulled his lips from hers, kissing down her neck to her sternum and breasts.

 

   “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Harry muttered, and she shuddered as he sucked a mark into her skin. “You’re insanely beautiful, love, you drive me mad.”

 

   “Your mouth drives me mad,” Ginny hissed, bring her lips to his ear and closing her teeth on the cartilage. Harry let out a growl and sucked harder on her skin. The pressure was building in her and Harry was fully hard, ready and waiting. She lifted her lips, looking down at him and she raised herself up.

                                                                    

 She threw her arms around his neck, leaning in as her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a little gasp. Harry’s hands closed on her waist, his lips at her neck again. The feeling of being filled filled her, her mind overcoming with sensations of intensity and sweet pleasure; a kind of heat that milled between them universally and equally.

 

 The bath water and perfumed steam made her feel rather sleepy, the satisfaction making her muscles loose and tender. Harry closed his arms around her as she sunk back into the water, the sweet scent of roses filling her nose, and with her husband’s arms around her, she fell asleep.

 

   “Hold tight to my hand, lovely,” her mother reminded her.

 

   “Yes, mum,” she answered in a half-bored voice; she knew well enough not to let go of her mother’s hand in the middle of a crowded train station. Her mother tugged her closer and pulled her along, passing by platform seven and heading for platforms nine and ten.

 

   “It gets worse and worse every year,” her mother sighed, clucking her tongue. “People everywhere – oi, watch yourself!”

 

 A large man in long coat had knocked into Ginny’s shoulder, causing her to stumble into her mother; Mum grabbed her arm and held her up, sending a glare after the man. “Rude, insufferable wankers,” her mother mumbled, dropping her hand to grab Ginny’s again. “Probably never listened to his mother when she tried to teach ‘im his manners. You’d better be listening to me when I’m teaching you your manners, young lady.”

 

   “Yes, mum,” Ginny mumbled in answer, as her mother huffed and tugged her forward.

 

   “It’s past 8, the train ought to be here already,” said her mother in a soft voice, half to herself as she checked her watch. “Your dad’s not gonna be happy.”

 

   “He won’t mind that we’re late,” Ginny said in an assuring tone to her mother. “He’s probably still reading his paper.”

 

   “Still,” her mother sighed, glancing over her shoulder. “Hold on tight, love,” she said again, though her voice was suddenly much harsher than it had been a moment before. Ginny glanced around, wondering what had made her mother abruptly worried. The station was packed, full to the brim with people bustling about as they headed home or away for the holidays. Her eyes scanned the crowds, and she spotted a group of older men and women all dressed in similar coats standing near the barrier between platforms nine and ten. There were perhaps ten or fifteen of them, all wearing dark coats and strange looking suits, and she let out a little gasp as she recognized the man who had knocked into her mere moments before. They looked like they were waiting for something, their faces tense. A clock nearby chimed 8:30, and the group of dark coated people all pulled thin rods from their coat pockets or sleeves, raising them into the air and turning to face the crowds.

 

   “ _AVADA KEDAVRA!”_

 

 The bright green light struck her directly in the chest, and Ginny felt herself floating in the air, wrapped in lukewarm water that smelled sweet. She twisted onto her chest to peer into the water beneath her, seeing a school of fish swim by. The current was gentle around her, carrying her from open water towards a rocky beach, and as she looked, the shoreline grew larger, drawing closer. There was a cliff facing the water, the mouth of cave with jagged teeth of rock open at its base. The current pushed her lazily along, until she entered the cave and landed onto a pebble-strewn shore.

 

 She rose to her feet, feeling the water lap at her toes, and stepped forward. The was a doorway in front of her, leading deeper into the cave. In the low light, she saw more water, a vast lake with a small island in its center. A white orb of light hung above it, illuminating the little island and the pedestal upon it. There was a boat at the edge of the lake, so she stepped into it, and the boat pushed off on its own, drifting towards the island and the light.

 

 She leaned over the edge of the boat, her hair swinging forward over her shoulders. Her reflection in the water was off, the water staining her red hair darker, her eyes a shade of green instead of brown, her mouth set in a firm frown. She leaned back, but the reflection stayed put, and abruptly, the reflection opened its mouth; her reflection shouted at her, her eyes wide with panic, but no sound escaped the water. Ginny leaned in again, and her reflection reached out to her, her hands grabbing at her arms, her hair, her shoulders. She plunged into the water, her reflection holding onto her with icy fingers.

 

   “Ginny! Harry, Ginny, get over here, now!”  


   “What?” Ginny said, not understanding what she meant.

 

 Her reflection shouted again, her voice distinctly masculine and carrying the faintest trace of a Welsh accent: “Harry, Ginny, come here!”

 

 Ginny sat up in the bathtub with a gasp; Remus was shouting from somewhere, his voice panicky.

 

   “We’re coming!” Ginny called, leaping up from the bath. Harry started, looking around dazedly. “Harry, get up!”

 

    “Wha’s going on?” Harry said groggily, rubbing at his eyes.

 

   “Get in here!” Remus shouted again; he sounded almost angry, almost afraid.

 

   “I don’t know, something’s wrong,” Ginny said, and she knew it even without Harry’s godfather screaming for them. Her heart was tight in her chest, beating hard and fast, her lungs clenched with anxiety. Harry pushed himself up from the bath as Ginny grabbed them both dressing gowns from the bedroom, throwing hers on as she crossed back to give Harry his and grab their wands. Still dripping from the bath, the two of them darted from their bedroom into the sitting room.

 

 There was a fire in the hearth, the flames flickering green, and Remus’s head was sat amongst the coals. “Oh, thank God,” Remus gasped as they came into sight. “Akers is coming to get you, get dressed, he’s going to take you to the Ministry so you can take an International Floo back to Hogwarts.”

 

   “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, completely confused.

 

   “There’s been an attack,” Remus said, “Death Eaters; King’s Cross – We don’t know how many are dead yet, but the Dark Mark is over the train station.”

 

 Ginny’s heart turned colder the longer Remus spoke. She knew something had been terribly wrong.


	54. Tallies of the Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Good afternoon (or morning or evening or some pre-dawn ungodly hour why are you even awake) lovelies, it's Monday. It's one of those Mondays. During that time of the month. My fellow victims of uteruses, you feel me, right? In honor of pains both mental and physical, here is your next chapter, laden with many of those mental pains, I expect. Prepare for an attack, and by that I mean cringe - wait why am I quoting Dan's diss track? The attack already happened, anyway, I'm sure you remember; Remus, panicking, on the Floo, saying that people were dead and the Dark Mark had been spotted? What does that have to do with danisnotonfire? Who even knows. Enjoy!_

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

**Tallies of the Dead**

**Ginny**

 

   “I’m going to stay on the Floo until Akers gets here,” Remus told them, “go, get dressed, get your things, hurry!”

 

 Harry glanced at Ginny, but she grabbed his hand and tugged him back towards their bedroom before he could say anything. With that cold lump still in her chest, Ginny waved her wand over the room, desperately just shouting: “Pack!” All the things they’d unpacked and put away the day before flew out of the drawers and into the bags they’d left on the floor; they grabbed clothes from the air and threw them on, drying themselves with their wands as they did. In less than a quarter of the time it had taken them to unpack, their things were repacked and ready. They grabbed their bags and ran back out to the sitting room, where Remus was still on the Floo.

 

   “What happened?” Harry asked him, desperate to know.

 

   “I don’t know,” Remus said, his voice tight. “Dumbledore called Sirius and I only just a few minutes ago, told us we had to get you back to Hogwarts right away. He would have called himself except he had to report to the Ministry, the Wizengamot’s being called in for an emergency session. Sirius is trying to get us access to an International Floo right now, we’re still in Paris.”

 

   “Mr. Potter! I’m here!” a voice from the first floor shouted and they jumped; Akers had arrived.

 

   “Go!” Remus told them. “Go straight to my office and wait for us there, call your mother and let her know you’re okay, but don’t go anywhere.”

 

   “Yes, Remus,” Harry said, already grabbing up their bags again. “We’ll see you soon.”

 

 Remus just nodded, and his head vanished from the fire. Harry grabbed Ginny’s hand and the two of them took to the stairs; Akers was standing in the kitchen, his wand drawn and his sunglasses gone. He opened the door and ushered them out to the car, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Once in the car, Akers started the engine and revved it, backing rapidly from the driveway and taking off down the dirt road.

 

   “We’ll Apparate from the guest cottage,” the Australian Auror told them, and even he sounded anxious. In barely a minute, he stopped the car and jumped out. Harry and Ginny exited the car quickly, taking the Auror’s offered hands. He twisted on the spot, and they were sucked into a pinprick, squeezed through until they reappeared with a loud _CRACK_ in an untidy cubicle.

 

   “Eh? Who’s that?” called an unfamiliar voice. Akers dropped their hands, then shrank both of their bags as if just realizing they had them. Harry shoved the shrunken bags into his pockets, then grabbed Ginny’s hand again.

 

   “It’s Eli,” Akers called out.

 

   “Eli?” came the answer, and a balding man with a thick mustache appeared at the cubicle’s doorway. “Why – Is that Harry Potter?”

 

   “I’ve got to take them up to Transportation,” Akers told the man, already waving them forward. “Emergency, they’ve got to Floo back to the UK.”

 

   “Eh?” said the man, now following them; Akers was leading them through a nearly empty office room filled with cubicles. Ginny held tight to Harry’s hand as they followed their guard, her eyes roaming, catching on everything from the faintly swinging lights to the paper airplanes whizzing through the air.

 

   “I said it was an emergency, Tegan,” Akers repeated. “Go tell the boss, the whole UK’s about to be in uproar.”

 

   “What happened?” Tegan asked. “Did the queen kick the bucket or something?”

 

 Akers yanked open a glass paneled door, gesturing for them to go through. “Massacre at a train station, and the Dark Mark appeared,” Akers said bluntly; Tegan’s face went slack as Akers ushered them into another corridor.

 

   “This way,” Akers told them, starting off down towards a bank of elevators at such a brisk stride that Ginny had to nearly jog to keep up – Harry’s longer legs could match the Auror’s stride, however. “Transportation’s the floor below,” he said, smashing a button to call an elevator. He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, looking back and forth down the long corridor with quickly shifting glances. The elevator dinged and he waved them in, stepping in behind them. Ginny squeezed Harry’s hand. There was soft music playing above them, an upbeat tune that was completely inappropriate for the currently grave situation.

 

 The music cut out in a ding and the doors opened. Akers stepped back so they could pass him, then followed them into the corridor. “Straight ahead,” he told them, though it was somewhat unnecessary; they had entered into a large, open room, done almost completely in marble, a large sign above them reading: _Department of Magical Transportation_.

 

   “Hey, Vicky!” Akers shouted. A blonde head of curls popped up from behind the long reception desk; the woman blinked blearily and rubbed at her eyes.

 

  “What?” mumbled Vicky, her voice gravelly from sleep.

 

   “I need an emergency International Floo trip,” Akers said. “Two, Harry Potter, and Ginny Potter, from here to Hogwarts in the UK.”

 

   “Hogwarts?” she said, frowning. “What for?”

 

   “Don’t ask, just let me through,” he snapped and she raised her hands in defense.

 

   “Fine, fine,” said Vicky, and Ginny wondered how lax they really were in Australia if a receptionist could authorize them the use of an International Floo. She waved her wand, and a sudden wall of shimmery gold light appeared across the corridor to their right, then just as quickly faded. “Go down to the Floo Network Office and talk to Trager, he’s the office head.”

 

   “Thanks, Vicky,” Akers said, not as harsh this time, then turned and started marching down a hallway to the right, Harry and Ginny on his heels. He turned and opened a door, leading them into a very long room, filled with marble fireplaces. “Trager?” he called, stopping at desk dividing the room.

 

 A door opened and a man stepped out. Akers said briskly: “Emergency, I need an International Floo trip to Hogwarts for these two.”

 

 The man, Trager Ginny guessed, stepped forward and frowned. He looked up and glanced between Harry and Ginny, then jerked his gaze back to Harry. “Wait,” he said, his frown intensifying. “Is that –”

 

   “Harry Potter, yes; the Floo,” Akers cut him off.

 

   “What happened?” asked Trager cautiously.

 

   “There’s been a massacre at a train station,” Akers said, “the Dark Mark was spotted.”

 

 Trager’s eyebrows shot up. “Dark Mark like the Death Eater’s Dark Mark?”

 

   “Yeah, like the Dark-Lord-who-was-vanquished-by-Harry-Potter’s Dark Mark,” Akers said. “These two have to get back to Hogwarts, immediately.”

 

 Trager pulled out his wand and waved them forward, a gate blocking their entry swung open. Harry glanced up at the Auror, who nodded; he and Ginny stepped forward, the Auror coming up behind them, and were led down the long room to a fireplace marked: _For Approved International Use Only._ Trager tapped it with his wand, and a fire burst into life at the grate. He took a jar from the mantle and held it out to them, saying: “Make sure you enunciate, kid, you don’t want to end up lost somewhere halfway across the world.”

 

 Harry nodded, stepping forward. Then he glanced at Ginny, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

_You go first,_ she thought. He clenched his jaw and looked back to the fire, taking a fistful of powder from the jar. He threw it into the flames, which turned green immediately.

 

   “Defense Against the Dark Arts’ teacher’s quarters, Hogwarts,” Harry called clearly, then stepped into the grate and vanished. Trager held the jar out to Ginny, his eyebrow raising. She took a handful, moving forward, and repeated Harry’s words. She stepped into the fire, and felt heat surging around her, she spun faster and faster, glimpses of sitting rooms and parlors flashing before her rapidly until they all blurred into streaks of colors; she felt sick, she was still spinning for twice as long as a normal trip, then she tumbled out of the grate onto a hearth rug in Sirius and Remus’s sitting room at Hogwarts. Harry was in the kitchenette, leaning over the trashcan.

 

   “Did you throw up?” Ginny asked him, then quickly covered her own mouth. Harry shook his head, his cheeks flushed and lips pale. She stumbled towards him, then grabbed the counter to hold herself steady and tried to breathe deeply through her nose. Harry half retched and she went for her wand, but her husband was already shaking his head, straightening up.

 

   “I’m okay,” he muttered, pushing his hands through his hair. “Bloody hell, it’s so much worse going internationally.”

 

 Ginny just nodded, then remembered she knew a spell to fix the nausea and touched her wand to her own chest. “ _Remedium_ _Nauseae,_ ” she murmured, and the churning in her stomach ceased. Harry waved to himself, asking her wordlessly to use the spell on him, and she did; he sighed and unclenched his jaw in relief.

 

   “Mum,” he said abruptly, looking back at the fireplace. Ginny nodded and crossed back to it, grabbing Floo powder from the mantle and tossing it back into the grate. She dropped to her knees and called out: “The Burrow!” then stuck her head into the green flames. There was a second of swirling green flame, then her mother’s sitting room came into view.

 

   “Ginny!” came a sudden shout and her mother dropped to the ground in front of her. “Oh, darling, are you alright?”

 

   “Yes, Mum, we’re fine,” Ginny said. “We’re back at Hogwarts, waiting for Remus and Sirius.”

 

   “Oh, thank Merlin,” her mother murmured, clutching a hand to her chest. “When I heard – never mind, I’m just so glad you two are safe.”

 

   “We’re fine,” Ginny repeated. “Taking the Floo from Australia to Hogwarts is much different than it is from home to Hogwarts, though.”

 

   “Oh, yes, if you’re nauseous –”

 

   “We were, but I fixed it,” Ginny assured her mother. Mum nodded, falling back on her feet, her face still relieved. “I think Harry’s godfathers should be coming through soon, though, I don’t want to be holding up the Floo.”

 

   “Oh, of course not, go on,” Mum said. “Thank you for calling, dear, I love you.”

 

   “Love you too, Mum,” Ginny said, then pulled back; her ears almost popped, and she was kneeling on the floor back at Hogwarts again.

 

   “What did she say?” Harry asked.

 

   “Just that she’s glad we’re alright,” Ginny said and Harry nodded. She stood up and walked back over to him, opening her arms. Harry lifted himself off the counter and stepped into her embrace, dropping his forehead onto her shoulder. Ginny held him tightly, one hand in his hair and one at his back, feeling just as relieved as her mother had looked that they were alright.

 

 _We don’t know how many are dead yet… Massacre at a train station, and the Dark Mark was spotted._ Her reflection that looked less like herself and more like the picture’s she’d seen of Harry’s mother, panicked and shouting at her. _WATCHOUT, U KNOW WHO, ATTACK._ They’d been given warning. Why had nothing been done?

 

 _We’re okay_ , Harry reminded her. _We weren’t there._

 

 Ginny just nodded into his shoulder, wondering how many were dead.

 

 Remus and Sirius didn’t arrive for almost another hour; he and Ginny had taken seats on the sofa, she curled up on his lap and he with his head buried in her hair, with the radio on the coffee table. They’d tried for ages to find a station that was playing news, but the Nightly Soothsayer wasn’t active or they couldn’t find it, so they’d stopped trying. It was switched off just then, as they’d both grown sick of the jazz it kept defaulting to.

 

 When the fire flared and Sirius stepped out, both Ginny and Harry jumped up from the couch. Sirius hesitated at the hearth, until the green flames shot up again and Remus took stumbling steps from it. Remus staggered into Sirius’s shoulder, his hand covering his mouth.

 

    “What happened?” Harry said immediately.

 

   “What took you so long?” Ginny added as the two men dropped onto the wide armchair. Remus shook his head, his face pale.

 

   “All we know,” Sirius started, then paused. “All we know is that there was an attack at King’s Cross and that the Dark Mark has been seen.”

 

 Remus clapped his other hand to his mouth, then jumped up and ran for the bedroom. Sirius darted after him, then Ginny followed, already taking out her wand to charm away Remus’s nausea, but their professor was already bent over a toilet and retching; Ginny stepped back quickly, a hand going to her mouth, feeling nauseous herself again. The door shut and a sudden hush fell over the room, leaving nothing but the sound of Harry tapping his foot. Ginny absently bit at a nail, then hastily pulled her hand away from her mouth. After a long moment filled with tense silence, the bedroom door opened again and Sirius stepped out.

 

   “Remus is lying down,” he said quietly, shutting the door even more gently. He checked his watch, then gestured to the couches they had just vacated. “Dumbledore said he’d call as soon as he knew more, but for now, we’ll just have to wait here.”

 

 Ginny dropped back down onto the couch. “How did this happen?” she questioned as Harry’s godfather folded himself into the armchair. “Why did anyone see it coming, why wasn’t anything done?”

 

 Sirius was covering his face with a hand, sending shadows over his eyes that made him appear, once again, as the gaunt and sickly man from Azkaban. It took him almost a full minute to answer her, and when he did, his voice was hoarse.

 

   “Voldemort is smart,” he began. “He waited months to do anything to lull us into a false sense of security, and it worked. He did things like this last time, he attacks when and where we least expect it.”

 

   “But why –”

 

   “I don’t know why, Ginny,” Sirius snapped. “I’m not Dumbledore, I’m not Voldemort; I can’t tell you what either of them were thinking.”

 

 Ginny drooped. Sirius lowered his hand from his face, then sighed and leaned forward in his chair.

 

   “There were maybe ten Death Eaters,” he said. “No more. We already knew he had a small handful of followers outside Azkaban, but there’s no way any of the Order could have expected something like this to happen with only ten or so people backing him up.”

 

 At the mention of the still elusive Order, Ginny glanced at Harry, who was silent still. His brow was furrowed, his lips thin and face wan. Even with their minds connected, she wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

 

   “We have to wait for Dumbledore,” Sirius said quietly.

 

 Ginny drew back against the couch, her arms crossing over her chest to hug herself. She wasn’t sure what to do.

 

   “I hate having to wait, too,” Sirius said. “It never gets easier.”

 

 Ginny gave a small nod, even if his words made her feel no better. She wished they knew something, could do anything, but Sirius was right. They had to wait for Dumbledore.

 

 It took ages. Ginny’s eyelids began to droop soon, but each time she felt her head lolling, her brain gave her a jerk that made her look up. Her thoughts bounced around her head wildly as she tried to comprehend, to rationalize and to understand. Beside her, Harry sat with his arms crossed and his fists clenched. While she was confused, he was angry. His anger mixed with her confusion, creating a meld of fear between the two of them.

 

 A bright flash of flame interrupted the monotonous silence at half past 11. All three sat upright and Sirius lunged to grab the piece of paper fluttering down from where the flame had deposited it in the air. Ginny sat on the edge of the couch as Sirius unraveled it with shaking fingers, watching as his eyes darted over the paper.

 

   “There are dozens of Muggles dead,” Sirius said. “So far, they’ve identified twenty witches and wizards.”

 

    “Twenty what?” Harry demanded. “Injured…?”

 

   “Dead,” Sirius said, his gaze never lifting from the paper. “Most of them were adults but…”

 

   “But what?” Ginny asked.

 

   “There were at least five Hogwarts students found dead.”

 

 Ginny raised a hand to her mouth, covering it not in nausea but shock.

 

   “The Muggle police are calling it an accident,” Sirius said, “Obliviators have already treated the few survivors.”

 

   “Few survivors?” Harry gasped as Ginny spat out: “Obliviators?”

 

   “Yes, Obliviators,” Sirius said. “The Wizengamot is calling this an act of terrorism and a massive breach of the Statute of Secrecy.”

 

    “Who gives a fuck about the Statute of Secrecy right now?” Ginny demanded.

 

 Sirius shot her a look, and she shut her mouth, clenching her jaw. “Frankly, Ginny, _I_ give a fuck about the Statute of Secrecy. Maintaining order in our society largely depends on maintaining the Statute of Secrecy. It’s rather a big deal when wizards do things like this, not only does it risk our exposure but the exposure of every wizard around the world. There are still countries where witchcraft is explicitly banned and punishable by death, if you’ll recall the three weeks Tonks spent in America helping them deal with witch-hunters.”

 

  “But the priority should be the fact that Voldemort is back and killing people!” Ginny insisted.

 

 Sirius looked back to the letter. “Dumbledore says they won’t let him talk long enough to mention Voldemort. They’re busy focusing on how to cover this up, and they’ll worry about who did it later.”

 

 Ginny’s jaw dropped incredulously. “Worry about who did it later?” she repeated. “Are they mad?”

 

   “No,” Sirius said. “Lucius Malfoy, among others, is being particularly vocal about the Statute of Secrecy.”

 

   “Wait,” Harry said, and Sirius looked up. “Malfoy is a Death Eater. Why does he have a seat on the Wizengamot?”

 

 Sirius dropped the letter onto the coffee table, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face with his hands. “Binns needs to cover more than just giant wars,” he groaned into his hands.

 

   “What?” replied Harry.

 

   “The Ministry is run by a democratic oligarchy,” Sirius said. “In addition to the elected officials, such as the Minister, there are seats for companies, old families, schools, such and such. Especially, there are seats for the old Pureblood families. The Sacred 28.”

 

   “The –?”

 

   “The Sacred 28,” Sirius interrupted. “Twenty-eight Pureblood families, but by now it’s been whittled down some. The Weasleys or the Prewetts don’t have seats anymore, for example. But the Malfoys do.”

 

   “There are Death Eaters in the Wizengamot?” Harry reiterated. “Just because of their family name?”

   “Yes,” Sirius said. “Your family has a seat, my family has a seat – except neither of us will be asked to come in because you’re underage and I’m an ex-convict –, the Malfoys, the Greengrasses, the Parkinsons; they’ve all got seats. And right now, they’re all clamoring to ensure the Muggles don’t know what happened.”

 

   “To distract from Voldemort,” Ginny guessed.

 

   “Most likely,” Sirius sighed. “They did this last time, too; made noise about something else so the seedier business can go undetected. Dumbledore is doing his best to get them to focus on who could have done it.”

 

   “But he’s one of the most respected wizards in Britain, in the whole world!” Ginny said. “Why won’t they all shut up and listen to him?”

 

   “I haven’t got a clue,” Sirius answered. “He doesn’t say.”

 

 Ginny fell back against the sofa with a scoff. “Do we just sit here, then?”

 

 Sirius checked his watch. “No,” he sighed again. “It’s lunch time, and I imagine you two will be tired. So, you can eat first and then get some sleep, or you can sleep and then eat.”

 

   “Eat first,” Harry said. “And tea.”

 

 Sirius nodded. He pushed himself up from his armchair, then pointed to the other bedroom door. “You can sleep there until further notice,” he told them. “I’d rather keep you where I can find you easily.”

 

Ginny only nodded as she and Harry rose; she didn’t feel like arguing with him on that. “Do you want me to go wake up Remus?” she asked as Sirius opened the ice chest in the small, attached kitchen.

 

   “Might as well,” Sirius replied. “I can’t cook.”

 

 Ginny felt her lips curve involuntarily at the light attempt at humor as she turned away, going to the closed bedroom door. She knocked lightly, then leaned in and pressed her ear to the door. Hearing nothing, she gently opened it; immediately, she heard Remus snoring softly. The room was likely charmed, she figured.

 

   “Remus?” she whispered. Harry’s other godfather was lying on his side on the double bed, his body covered by the duvet. There was a trashbin sat at the edge of the bed, which, as she walked over, she noticed had a layer of vomit in the bottom. Wincing slightly, she drew her wand and aimed it at the bin. “ _Evanesco_ ,” she whispered. The bin and the vomit vanished with a light pop; she’d only meant to vanish the vomit, but it didn’t matter.

 

 Ginny gently prodded Remus’s shoulder. “Wake up,” she said quietly. The professor waved a hand vaguely, so she shook his shoulder. “Sirius told me to wake you up.”

 

   “What for?” Remus mumbled.

 

   “Because it’s lunchtime and he, apparently, can’t cook.”

 

 Remus’s mouth curled in a smirk, and he opened one eye to look at her. “He is not allowed to cook,” he corrected quietly, then covered his eyes with a hand as he shut his mouth with a snap.

 

   “Are you still nauseous?” Ginny asked.

 

 Remus gave a faint nod, and Ginny directed her wand at him. “Do you want me to try the nausea remedy?”

 

   “Have at it,” Remus mumbled. Ginny wiggled her wand and muttered the incantation. A bit of color returned to her professor’s cheeks within seconds, and he lowered his hand. “That’s so much better,” he sighed. “Thank you.”

 

 Ginny nodded, stepping back and stowing away her wand. “Dumbledore sent a note not too long ago,” she said.

 

 Remus sat up, tossing aside the duvet. “And?” he asked, almost cautiously.

 

   “Dozens of Muggles and at least twenty witches and wizards dead. At least five Hogwarts students, too.”

 Remus shut his eyes again, his hands going to cover his face, and for a second, she worried that he was nauseous again. But then he rose from the bed and gave a weary nod, as if the information had added physical weight to his soul.

 

   “Malfoy and a bunch of other people are trying to keep Dumbledore from talking about Voldemort,” Ginny went on. “So far, they’ve been focusing on the breach of the Statute of Secrecy too much for Dumbledore to bring up the subject.”

   “Like last time,” Remus murmured.

 

 Ginny nodded. “That’s what Sirius said.”

 

 Remus set a hand at her shoulder, then gently guided her from the room and back to the sitting room. “Sirius?” he called out, stepping past her towards the kitchen. Ginny followed behind, going to stand by the counter where Harry was cutting up carrots.

 

   “Are you feeling better?” Sirius asked Remus, setting down his own knife.

 

   “Yes,” Remus answered, letting Sirius check his forehead for his temperature. “What are you doing?”

 

   “We’re making chicken soup,” Harry declared. “Grab some vegetables and start chopping. You too, Gin.”

 

 Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Chicken soup?” she asked.

 

   “Yes,” her husband answered her. He picked up a pile of celery stalks and set them on the counter in front of her. “Here.”

 

  _Any particular reason?_

 

 Ginny looked at him, her gaze shrewd. His brow was furrowed as he concentrated on the carrots, and as she peered into his thoughts, she saw fear and anger being restrained in favor of the carrots and a recipe for chicken soup.

 

_We can’t do anything else right now. Might as well._

 

 Ginny picked up a knife. She liked his coping method better than hers.

 

   “There’s chicken stock and canned chicken in a cupboard somewhere,” Remus said.

 

   “I know, I found it already,” Harry said. “The stock’s on the stove with some noodles. Would you mind cutting up the chicken into smaller pieces?”

 

   “Of course,” Remus answered. After that, there was silence for a while; the rhythmic thumps of the knives cutting through the vegetables and the soft sound of the stock boiling was all to fill the air. Even as they began to speak again, it was in quiet tones with few words, small requests and questions that took very little vocal effort. Ginny began to feel tiredness seeping back into her mind, but as the menial tasks ran out and Harry began properly cooking, she found herself leaning against the counter, not brooding, but listening to the soup boiling.

 

 Somehow, it was a comforting sound.

 

 Eventually, Harry brought the soup down from a boil and served it in bowls. They sat at the small table in the kitchen, spoons clinking against the ceramic bowls, glasses thudding softly on the table, eating in silence. When her bowl was empty, Harry rose and took it from the table along with his own, going to the sink where he turned on the tap and pushed up his sleeves.

 

   “You don’t have to do to that,” Remus spoke, making Harry pause. “I’ll magic it clean later.”

 

 Harry stood at the sink, then looked back at the bowls. “Right,” he said, turning the tap off. “Of course.”

 Ginny knew that he’d forgotten that. She could tell that in his mind, even if subconsciously, he had reverted back to being the one who washed up after every meal. He was feeling helpless, like he was a child again. The Ministry were dancing around the real problem of Voldemort, and he felt like there was nothing he could do but wash dishes.

 

   “You should get some rest,” Sirius told him. “We’ll wake you up when we get more news.”

 

 Ginny rose from the table as Harry nodded. She held out her hand to him, squeezing his when he took it. _Come on,_ she thought softly. She pulled him away, into the spare bedroom, then just as gently shut the door behind them. They flopped onto the solitary bed in the room, not bothering to pull back the blankets.

 

  _What are we going to do?_

 

 _We’re going to sleep,_ Ginny thought. _And when we wake up, we’re going to talk to Dumbledore._

 

 Harry didn’t reply, at least not coherently. She touched a soft kiss to his cheek, then pressed close to his side.

 

 Ginny didn’t think the color black suited her just then. She blended in with everyone in the room, the woman dressed all in black beside her, the man on her other side wearing a crisp black suit, the people around them dressed entirely in black; black shoes, black veils, black dresses and black ties. The only one not wearing black was the occupant of the coffin. She was wearing a pale green dress and had flowers in her hair. She looked painfully pale, her hands lying gently over her stomach and her face sunken.

 

 Now that she thought about it, eight-year-old girls didn’t belong in coffins. Children did not belong in coffins.

 

 No one noticed as she rose from a pew. There was a sea of flowers between the mourners and the child, and as she approached, the petals reached her knees and then her hips, and she had to start swimming. The flowers smelled sickly sweet, until they simply smelled sickly. She rose from the sea, having finally reached the coffin, and turning back, she saw that it was an bloody ocean filled with more dead. All children. Some wore play-clothes, some wore suits, some wore uniforms, some wore robes, but each and every one was a child.

 

 She turned back to the coffin. Her clothes of black were dripping with blood, staining the ground as she stepped closer, leaving bloody footprints behind her. She reached out and touched the coffin, leaving streaks of blood on the wood. She brushed a strand of hair from the child’s face, and blood dripped onto the child’s face. The blood shimmered for a second, then seeped into her face, vanishing and spreading color. The child’s eyelids fluttered, then her lips curved in a slight smile. The flowers wilted, then turned to ash and the girl aged until her skin was wrinkled and sunken not with death but longevity. Her eyes stayed shut, her clothes still girlish, her smile content. And she too, turned to ash. As she stepped back, a breeze picked up the ash and carried it away.

 

   _“the body breaks but the soul stays forever young. the soul can be taken but if you try, the soul can stay forever free.”_

 

 She stepped back, until her feet touched water again. She turned, and saw crystal clear water. The shore of the Black Lake. The sun was setting in the distance, and all she could hear was quiet music, some soft trilling that made her think of eight-year-old girls lying in coffins with flowers in their hair.

 

   “Ginny, Harry, wake up, Dumbledore is here.”

 

 Ginny sat up quickly, then pressed a hand to her temple as her head spun. Remus was standing in the doorway, waiting expectantly. “Right,” Ginny murmured. Harry was already up and walking towards Remus as she slipped off the bed and followed.

 

 The Headmaster was seated on the sofa, resting on his knees with one hand covering his face and the other dangling by his side. He looked exhausted.

 

   “Professor?” Harry said.

 

 Dumbledore raised his head, then nodded to them. “Sit down,” he said quietly. Ginny glanced at Harry, not liking their professor’s weary tone.

 

   “What happened?” Harry asked, not sitting. “What is the Ministry doing? What is Voldemort doing?”

 

   “The Ministry…” Dumbledore paused, hesitating. He sighed, then pushed his spectacles up and rubbed at his eyes. “The Ministry is reacting worse than I feared they would,” he said. “The draft of a new proclamation was read aloud this afternoon.”

   “Proclamation?” Harry repeated.

 

   “If it passes, and I fear it will,” Dumbledore began, then paused again. Ginny could tell from even across the room that her Headmaster was feeling just as helpless as Harry was. “If it passes, the use of magic will be forbidden in all Muggle places, and will be punishable by law.”

 

 There was a heavy silence after Dumbledore’s words. Ginny stood, her mouth agape, trying to comprehend what he had just said. “Forbidden?” she whispered.

 

   “Forbidden,” Dumbledore repeated. “No exceptions.”

 

   “But – but what about self-defense?” Ginny spluttered. “What about protecting people?”

 

   “There are no proposed exceptions,” Dumbledore told her. “I questioned this, but the proposed solution to this is to recommend learning non-magical means of defense.”

 

   “What, like karate?” Harry asked. “A roundhouse kick will do no good against Death Eaters!”

   “What about the Death Eaters, what are they doing about them?” Ginny demanded.

 

   “They’re all dead,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “What?” came the voices of all four. “Dead?” Harry repeated.

 

   “There were twelve men and women found at the station that have been identified as the terrorists,” Dumbledore said. “They are all dead by their own wands.”

 

 The words hit Ginny in the stomach hard. “They were sent on a suicide mission?” Ginny said.

 

 Dumbledore nodded. “And thus, the Wizengamot is convinced that we are dealing with some new extremist group. No Death Eater attack ever ended in suicide last time.”

 

   “He’s changing tactics,” Sirius grunted.

 

   “Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “The Wizengamot is tied up in policy and legalities, I was not permitted to take the floor once to speak about Voldemort.”

 

   “But you’re one of the chairmen!” Remus spoke; glancing back at him, Ginny saw his face slack with shock. “You’re one of the Mugwumps!”

 

   “I was,” Dumbledore said. “My term ended and after the disaster in America, I was not invited to return.”

 

   “What the – What does America have to do with this?” Ginny demanded.

 

   “Lucius Malfoy has suggested that our involvement with the Scourers in America has given room in Britain for negative retaliation,” Dumbledore said heavily. “He claims that we should have never involved ourselves with their problems and now it has led to angry citizens making a point.”

 

   “That’s ridiculous!” Harry said.

 

   “Lucius made a good speech,” Dumbledore told them. “He, unfortunately, has had much more time to prepare than I.”

   “Because he’s in Voldemort’s inner circle, he knew,” Harry said.

 

   “Indeed,” Dumbledore answered.

 

   “So… So, you couldn’t say anything?” Ginny asked.

 

 Dumbledore shook his head. “Each time I tried to speak, one of the Pureblood families would cut me off, tell me to wait my turn. Voldemort clearly warned them.”

 

   “What are you going to do?” Harry asked.

 

   “We reconvene this evening to put Malfoy’s proposed law to vote,” Dumbledore answered. “I’m going to make as many calls as I can, gather sympathy to delay the vote.” Dumbledore leveled his gaze on Harry. “Then, I would hope that you would come with me and give your testimony to the Wizengamot.”

 

   “Testimony?” Harry repeated, faltering.

 

   “You are as much proof as I have for what happened in June,” Dumbledore continued. “Without your testimony, I fear my words will be dismissed in favor of Malfoy’s more reasonable explanation.”

 

 Ginny looked to Harry, who was staring at his feet, a frown lining his forehead. Then he sighed and nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.”

 

 Dumbledore nodded, rising from the couch. “I thank you,” he said. “We leave for the Ministry at six.” The Headmaster touched her husband’s shoulder as he stepped past him, then Ginny’s. In the brief second that his hand fell upon her shoulder, she had a sudden feeling of internal panic masked barely by a façade of strength. It was gone as soon as it came, as the professor lifted his hand from her. Ginny turned, watching as the Headmaster left the room.

 

  _Even Dumbledore is afraid,_ she thought, and she didn’t even know what her point was supposed to be.

 

   “You should start preparing,” Sirius said, turning to Harry. “For this evening.”

 

 Harry glanced at his watch, then frowned. “Erm, what time is it here?” he asked. “My watch is still set to Sydney time.”

 

 Ginny glanced at her own. “Half past four,” she answered, looking back up and waiting as Harry reset his watch. After he’d finished, he lowered his wrist, pulling a sleeve over it. For a second, he stared at the ground, his lips turned downward. Sirius and Remus watched him as well, both men looking pensive.

 

   “Erm, what should I say?” Harry asked.

 

 Sirius pointed to the couch. Where he had ignored Dumbledore, Harry took his godfather’s invitation to sit. Sirius and Remus dropped into their armchair, much as they always did, but with stiffer shoulders and tenser knuckles. “They’ll ask you to tell the whole story first,” Sirius said. “They’ll likely interrupt you several times, but you should be prepared to speak uninterrupted. Try on us, just to practice.”

   “Start at the beginning,” Remus told him. “Act like we don’t know anything about what happened that night.”

 

 Harry nodded. “It was the 24th of June. This year.”

 

 Sirius nodded encouragingly.

 

   “I was participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I hadn’t put my name in, it turns out Voldemort had.”

 

   “Try starting with the Tournament,” Remus suggested.

 

   “Right,” Harry said with a nod. “The Tri-Wizard Tournament. Someone put my name in, it wasn’t me; somehow, the Goblet of Fire was enchanted to think there were four schools instead of three, and someone put my name in for the fourth school. At the third task, there was this maze with a trophy in the very center. The trophy was a Portkey, and I was supposed to get there first. Ludo Bagman, Professor Sinestra, and Barty Crouch were working for Voldemort; they’d tampered with it.”

 

   “Crouch was in disguise, though,” Sirius reminded him. “It was actually his son.”

 

 Harry gave another nod. “Barty Crouch, Jr., then. They’d enchanted the Portkey, and Professor Sinestra was in the middle of the maze guarding it to make sure I got there first. I didn’t, though. Another student, Cedric Diggory; he got there first. She – she killed him. Used a knife,” he gestured absently, making a motion reminiscent of stabbing. “Me and this other champion, Viktor Krum, we got there just in time to see it. She dueled Krum then, and cut off his arm. After that, I dueled her, but she managed to get me to touch the Portkey. It took us to this graveyard. There was another Death Eater, her brother, and a man they’d forced to help them; he had this potion that he used to summon Voldemort.”

 

Harry stopped then, his hands clasped together tightly. Sirius gave Harry an encouraging smile.

 

   “That’s good,” Sirius told him. “You’ll do fine.”

 

 Harry just nodded. Ginny reached over and set her hand over his, squeezing his hands gently. He didn’t like thinking about what happened that night, she knew. He was thinking about Diggory’s body falling to the ground.

 

  _Stop dwelling on it._

_I can’t help it._

 She squeezed his hand again, unsure of how to help him.

 

   “I feel like we ought to do something,” Remus said. “While we wait.” Remus glanced at Sirius, then back at her and Harry. “What do you think?”

 

 Harry shrugged. “Dunno.”

   “Radio?” Remus suggested. “A game, perhaps?”

 

 Harry raised his shoulders again. Remus looked disconcerted, but leaned forward and flicked his wand at the radio on the coffee table. It switched on, then tuned itself.

 

   _“… Our source refused to give their name, but claimed to have been in the room as Lucius Malfoy proposed what we are calling highly controversial, and he calls the Wembley Act of Caution. Named for eight-year-old Jamie Wembley, daughter of a Diagon Alley alchemist James P. Wembley, who was brutally murdered alongside her mother and father by the terrorists at King’s Cross this morning, the Wembley Act of Caution proposes a full ban on magic outside specifically Wizard townships and homes or where any Muggle might see, and by that I truly mean full – as of right now, our source claims that there are no exceptions to the ban, not even for self-defense.”_

 

 Ginny covered her eyes with a hand, wishing that it would all just stop.

 

  _“No wizard, of age or not, would be allowed to use any magic in the presence of even a single Muggle, even if they are family or otherwise already aware of the existence of wizards and magic. This ban is being referred to as Britain’s Rappaport's Law, Wizarding America’s law forbidding association with Muggles that was repealed in 1965, and its subclause requiring all wizards to carry wand permits with the distinction that there are no permits given under the Wembley Act allowing any wizard to perform magic in the presence of a Muggle. The Wizengamot is in recess at the moment, however they are meeting again tonight at seven o’clock to vote on Malfoy’s Wembley Act.”_

 

   “The Wizengamot won’t pass it,” Remus said, but he sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself than anyone else.

 

   _“Another anonymous source claims that Hogwarts Headmaster and former Mugwump Albus Dumbledore is attempting to start a filibuster amongst the Wizengamot in hopes to delay the vote long enough to present some unheard evidence about the terrorist attack at King’s Cross. He tried several times this morning to speak, but a few hours into the emergency meeting of the Wizengamot, Minister Fudge ruled in favor of Mr. Malfoy to have the floor, citing Conduct Rule 19 to force Professor Dumbledore to take his seat, which essentially silenced him for the whole of the session. This order lasted only until the session disbanded for recess, so it is likely Professor Dumbledore will attempt to take the floor again when the Wizengamot reconvenes this evening.”_

 

   “Just turn it off,” Harry said, and Remus waved his wand; the radio cut to static, then fell silent. For a moment, the silence permeated the entire room, until the beating of her heart in her ear became too loud for her to bear. Ginny stood up and started pacing, her arms crossing her chest and a hand going to her mouth, biting down on a fingernail. She glanced at the clock, seeing that it wasn’t even five o’clock.

 

   “I feel like we should be doing something,” Harry said. Ginny turned around to face him, dropping her hand as she did.

 

   “What?” Sirius said. “What is there to do?” He sounded tired, she thought, traces of exasperation lining his exhaustion.

 

 Harry opened his mouth, looking around, then sighed and fell back against the sofa. “I don’t know.”

 

Ginny walked back to the sofa, dropping down beside him and setting a hand on his knee. She squeezed it gently, her gaze on the floor.

 

   “Eight years old,” Remus murmured.

 

 Ginny wondered if Jamie Wembley was the girl she’d dreamt about.

 

   “Come on,” Sirius said abruptly; he jumped to his feet, jostling Remus and nearly knocking him off the armchair. “Let’s go.”

 

   “Where?” Harry asked, looking up.

 

   “Room of Requirement,” his godfather answered. “You want to do something, we’re going to do something. Come on, get up.”

 

 Harry shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

 

   “Just follow me,” Sirius said shortly. Ginny rose from the couch, following as Sirius, Remus, and Harry went for the door. She took Harry’s hand as they exited the teacher’s quarters, lacing her fingers through his. He squeezed her hand gently.

 

 At the seventh floor, Sirius began pacing back and forth before the blank stretch of wall where the door to the Room would appear. At his third turn, a door did appear, resembling that of a broom closet door. Sirius opened it, then gestured for them to go in. Harry strode through, pulling Ginny along behind him, into the room where they trained with Tonks every morning. Ginny wondered if Tonks was going to keep training them now that she was pregnant.

 

   “Stand over there, Harry,” Sirius said, pointing to a circle drawn on the dark wood floor.

 

   “What am I doing?” Harry asked as he crossed to the circle, dropping Ginny’s hand as he did.

 

   “I’m teaching you,” Sirius said flatly. “I want to throw a Tickling Charm at me.”

 

 Harry frowned, hesitating. “A Tickling Charm?”

 

   “Just do it,” Sirius ordered. He took a stance opposite Harry, his wand raised and his other hand clenched at his side. Ginny stood by Remus, watching carefully. Sirius didn’t want Harry to practice Tickling charms, he was up to something different.

 

   “ _Rictusempra!_ ” Harry cried.

 

   “ _Protego Reditum!_ ” Sirius barked in reply, jerking his wand in a downward, slashing motion.

 

 Ginny’s eyebrows shot up as Harry’s jinx struck the translucent blue wall Sirius had conjured, bounced off and flew back to strike a startled Harry directly in the gut. Ginny clapped her hands to her mouth as she abruptly giggled while her husband dropped the floor in a gale of laughter. She glanced at Remus, who hadn’t seemed to notice.

 

   “ _Finite_ ,” Sirius called, almost lazily, and Harry stopped laughing. “That was the Major Ward of Returning, _Protego Reditum_. As you can guess, whatever spell strikes it is returned to its caster, which is why I told you to use a Tickling Charm.”

 

   “Thanks,” Harry said, rubbing at his bum; he’d apparently hit the ground hard. “How does it work?”

 

   “Watch carefully,” Sirius said, “I’ll do the motion slow.” He raised his wand again, resuming a fighting stance, then rose his wand up, turning it so the back of his hand faced the ground, then he twisted his wrist again and slashed his wand downward. “Got that?”

 

 Harry nodded, raising his wand, he copied the motion, a bit more sloppily, but Sirius made no comment.

 

   “Ginny, you were paying attention?” Sirius asked.

 

   “Yes,” Ginny answered.

 

   “Good, pair up with Remus, we’ll cast Tickling Charms and so you can practice on something simple.”

 

 Ginny nodded as Sirius and Harry resumed their stances, turning away to take a few paces away from her professor. She faced Remus again, raising her wand.

 

   “Ready?” Remus said. Ginny held up a finger, then tried the wand movement quickly. She tried again, this time feeling more satisfied with her attempt.

 

   “Okay,” she said, stepping into her stance.

 

 Remus raised his wand. She tightened her grip on hers. “ _Rictusempra_ ,” Remus said easily.

 

   “ _Protego Re_ – ah!” Ginny felt her wand drop from her grip as she fell to her knees in a fit of giggles, feeling a thousand fingers tickling her. A second later, the charm was lifted and she stopped to catch her breath.

 

   “A bit faster next time,” Remus said.

 

   “Right,” Ginny muttered, grabbing her wand and rising to her feet again. “Got it.”

 

   “Again,” Remus said. “ _Rictusempra!_ ”

 

   “ _Protego Reditum!_ ” Ginny cried, slashing her wand. Remus’s spell struck the ward she’d conjured, then both dissipated.

 

   “Better,” Remus said. “Make sure you flick your wrist correctly, otherwise that’ll happen again. Ready?”

 

   “Ready.”

 

 Another two tries, and Ginny successfully sent Remus’s charm back to him, albeit leaving it weak. Another four or five, and Remus switched to a stronger jinx, which broke through her ward and sent glued her feet to the floor.

 

   “You’ll get it,” Remus promised some time later. Ginny only nodded.

 

   “We’ll have to try more later,” Sirius called. “You’ve got to get to Dumbledore’s office, Harry.”

 

 Ginny lowered her wand, turning towards her husband and his godfather. “What time is it?”

 

   “Five forty,” Sirius answered. “Come on.”

 Ginny took Harry’s hand as the two Defense teachers led them from the Room of Requirement. They were quite all the way to the fourth floor, where Sirius gave the password to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. He stepped back, looking at them expectantly.

 

   “Go on,” he said, jerking his head towards the spiral staircase.

 

   “Aren’t you coming?” Harry asked. Sirius shook his head.

 

   “I won’t be welcome at the Ministry,” he said. “Best you go without me.”

 

 Harry glanced at Remus, who shook his head, taking a step closer to Sirius. “The same goes for me, really,” he said. “Go ahead.”

 Harry glanced at his feet, then shrugged. He gave Ginny’s hand a squeeze and pulled her gently towards the staircase leading up. She threw Sirius and Remus wave as she and Harry climbed the stairs up.

 

 They knocked at the headmaster’s door, then waited. Dumbledore’s voice called, “Enter,” and Harry pulled the door open.

 

 Dumbledore waved them over to him, standing in the midst of the room. “You’re just on time,” he said. “We’ll take the Floo there in just a moment.”

 

   “Yes, sir,” Harry said. Dumbledore drew his wand and, pointing it at the fireplace, conjured a spout of flames that filled the grate and began to flicker more merrily than was possibly appropriate for the situation. Then again, Ginny wasn’t sure how a fire could be gloomy.

 

   “Have you prepared to speak?” Dumbledore asked, to which Harry nodded. “Good. Expect that you will be interrupted by questions, but do not let it irritate you; there will be many members who will want to upset you in order to discredit you.”

 

   “Yes, sir,” Harry repeated.

 

   “Focus on Voldemort, give specific details as to what happened,” Dumbledore continued, as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “Don’t bother with talking about Bagman or Sinestra, both have already been jailed for separate crimes, though Barty Crouch, Jr., has not yet been apprehended.”

 

   “What about Crouch, Sr.?” Ginny asked abruptly.

 

   “Dead,” Dumbledore said. “The official report says it was likely assisted suicide due over a chronic illness. More likely, however, is that his son killed him and made it look like suicide. Regardless, his son is still at large.”

 

 Harry gave a nod, and Ginny echoed it quickly. Dumbledore checked his wrist watch, then cross over to a corner and donned a travelling cloak. “It is cold in the Wizengamot chambers,” he said, then waved his wand. Two more cloaks shimmered into existence over his outstretched arm, which he handed to them. “Let’s go.”

 

 They pulled the cloaks around them as Dumbledore pulled Floo powder from the mantle. “Ministry of Magic, Atrium!” he called, then stepped into the green flames.


	55. All In Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _what's up my dears guess what it's another chapter that's what i mean it was kinda obvious. anyways, please do enjoy this, leave a review bc those always warm my cold dead heart, and have a lovely day! ___

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

**All In Favor**

**Harry**

 

 

 The Atrium at the Ministry of Magic was full to bursting of people waiting. The queues to the elevators stretched all the way back to the bank of fireplaces they had just exited. It was also loud, people shouting, screaming, Harry could swear he also heard the sounds of sobbing somewhere. Dumbledore set his hands on both Harry and Ginny’s shoulders, guiding them through the swollen crowds. Off by the fountain, there was a large group of people sat on the floor. That was where the sound of crying was coming from.

 

    “Mourners,” Dumbledore said to them. “The Ministry called in the families of the deceased victims to inform them personally. They’ve been here all day.”

 

 Harry just nodded. Dumbledore led them past the fountains, heading for an elevator guarded by wizards in uniforms. He stared at the groups of mourners as they passed, then felt a punch to his gut as he saw people he knew from school. Alicia Spinnet was crumpled on the floor beside Lee Jordan, who held and rocked her as she cried into his shoulder. Colin Creevey and his younger brother knelt by the fountain, the both of them silent with cheeks tear-stained. Gryffindor’s reserve keeper, Anna Williams, was sat with her back to the fountain with a numb expression as she held a wailing toddler to her chest. Lavender Brown was standing near one of the elevators, screaming at an Auror. Her voice was so shrill and her sobs so heavy Harry couldn’t understand what she was saying. Parvati and Padma Patil and a woman who looked like their mother were standing just behind her, their arms about each other and sobbing almost as loud as Lavender. There were dozens others, people he saw every day but had never bothered to learn names, teachers, students, children; all wept. Then they had reached the single elevator without a queue and the uniformed wizards were opening the gate for them.

 

   “You’re early, Professor,” one said to them.

 

   “I am aware,” said Dumbledore, a little curtly, in reply. The wizard just nodded and they stepped past into the elevator. The wizards shut both inner and outer gates, trapping them inside the elevator. Harry wished he was standing next to Ginny so he could take her hand.

 

   “Ninth floor,” Dumbledore said. “Wizengamot chambers.”

 

   “Going down,” a soft voice announced. The elevator shuddered, then began to move downward.

 

  _Did you see them? Lavender, Parvati, Padma? And Alicia? And Lee?_ Ginny thought.

 

_I saw them._

_And Colin and Dennis?_

_I saw._

_And Williams and that little boy? He couldn’t be any older than three…_

_I saw, Ginny._

Ginny’s thoughts were scrambled, her mind unable to express in comprehendible words what she was thinking. Harry felt the same.

 

   “You will face great scrutiny, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Especially from Mr. Malfoy and his compatriots. Take great care to hold your temper,” the Headmaster added in an almost harsh reminder.

 

 Harry nodded, dropping his gaze. Dumbledore was right in warning him. He didn’t have the best track record of remaining calm.

 

 The elevator halted abruptly, and the gates retracted automatically. Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder, Ginny’s as well, then let go of them and started forward down a long, dark hallway. Harry grabbed his wife’s hand before following; their footsteps echoed against the black stones. Dumbledore turned a corner, then another, before they reached one last long corridor. There were voiced coming from the closed door at the end, which Dumbledore opened. He gestured for them to go in front of him, and they walked into a vast, stately courtroom. It was much bigger than the room Pettigrew had been tried in last year, maybe three or four times as large. Harry looked around, a little awed, as the voices abruptly quieted. There were hundreds of people staring at him now, and the seats lining the courtroom were barely half full.

 

   “This way,” Dumbledore murmured to them, stepping past them and walking towards the opposite end of the courtroom. Harry swallowed nervously, following his teacher with short steps and a clenched jaw. The Wizengamot members were speaking again, yet their voices were still hushed. Ginny moved slightly closer to him, her hand tight on his. Dumbledore opened a gate, then paused to wait for them. “To the sixteenth tier,” Dumbledore told them as they passed him.

 

   “Right,” Harry muttered. He started counting the rows of seats they passed; people stared at him, their gazes seeming to burn right through him. Dumbledore touched his shoulder halfway up the rows, gesturing for them to turn out of the aisle into the row. There was a wide gap between the seats and a short wall in front, letting them easily pass the handful of people sat there already. The seats were also divided into groups, with short gaps between every four seats. A few of those already seated greeted the Headmaster, either in a wave or a word, but Dumbledore’s replies were always short. Halfway down the row, Dumbledore stopped, indicating they should sit.

 

   “Now, we wait,” Dumbledore said.

 

 Harry just nodded.

 

 The following hour felt almost like several days. The courtroom slowly filled, witches and wizards in somber black robes, until finally, nearly every seat was full. Harry looked around the courtroom, and he could barely make out the faces of the people directly opposite him.

 

_Harry, look._

 

 Harry shut his eyes rather than turn his head, immediately slipping into Ginny’s perspective. Her gaze was fixed on a man stood with their back to them before his seat near the Minister’s podium, a man with silver blond hair pulled back sleekly by a black ribbon.

 

 _Malfoy,_ Harry thought bitterly.

 

  _And son,_ Ginny replied, flicking her gaze to the left of Lucius Malfoy, where Draco Malfoy was sat, gazing at his hands clasped in his lap with a blank look in his eyes. Harry never thought he could hate Malfoy more, but in that moment, the arrogance and utter disregard for the lives lost that day that shone in even the most subtle of actions made him loathe every single fiber of Malfoy’s being.

 

 Then a loud, booming voice echoed throughout the courtroom, distracting Harry and Ginny from the Malfoys. “All rise for the Minister of Magic!”

 

 Harry and Ginny rose automatically, even though at that moment, neither of them cared much for the Minister. Fudge swept into the courtroom, followed by four intimidating looking wizards in matching uniforms that Harry guessed to be guards. A group of three followed behind the guards, one of which he recognized as Amelia Bones, but neither the second witch nor the wizard rang a bell in his memory.

 

 They remained standing as the group crossed the courtroom, the four wizards dispersing to stand before the high seats, the three others taking seats lower than Fudge’s, and Fudge himself taking the highest seat of the podium. Harry went to sit back down, but realized quickly that no one else was, so straightened his knees.

 

   “The Twelve Mugwumps,” announced the booming voice again, and Harry turned back to face the door. Thus entered six wizards and six witches, all dressed in stately, red robes. These twelve marched in single file across the room, until they parted before the Minister’s seats, dividing into two groups of six, where they climbed the steps to take the seats directly behind and raised just above the Ministers. As they sat, so did the rest of the courtroom; Harry hastened to return to his seat.

 

 Minister Fudge took a look around the room, then picked up his gavel. “The Wizengamot is now in session,” he announced. Harry swallowed thickly.

 

   “On our agenda tonight,” Fudge continued, “we are to vote on the Wembley Act of Caution, so proposed by Wizengamot member Lucius Malfoy. Are all in agreement?”

 

 Over a hundred _Ayes_ echoed throughout the room, coming even from Dumbledore. Harry frowned. They had to vote on what was on the agenda?

 

   “Before we vote, I’d like to give Mr. Malfoy opportunity to address the issues his bill have brought up,” Fudge said. “Most notably, the lack of exceptions to the ban on the use of magic before Muggles. Mr. Malfoy, you may have the floor.”

 

   “Thank you, Minister,” Lucius Malfoy said in a glibly smooth tone, rising from his seat. He stepped into the aisle, then took the steps down to the main floor. Harry watched, his fists clenched, as Malfoy waved his wand and a much smaller podium than that of the Minister’s rose from the ground. Malfoy took a sheaf of paper from his robes, then spread them out over the surface of the podium.

 

   “Listed under clause B of the Wembley Act, there are currently no proposed exceptions,” Malfoy said. “This is necessary, because of the following reasons. One, if we were to include exceptions, the definition of said exceptions would need to be incredibly strict. Furthermore, if there were exceptions, any case claiming to fall under the exception of this law would need to meet those strict definitions, and by and large, none would. Any situation where magic is necessary for defense can be easily avoided by defending oneself with non-magical means. Therefore, the inclusion of exceptions would only weaken this act to the point that it can be completely circumnavigated.”

 

_Circumnavigated? What? Who actually uses words like that?_

_Shut up, I’m trying to listen._

_And is he just saying that including exceptions would be against the point of the whole thing?_

_No, he’s saying that if they did, the definitions would be so high that no one would even reach it._

_Oh._

_Now, shut up._

   “Three –”

 

  _Damn it, we missed two._

 

   “– in the event where a witch or wizard found his or herself in such danger that the use of magic is necessary to escape, the kind of magic that would be required would be highly dangerous itself to any and all Muggles around them. There are thousands of cases wherein a Muggle witnessed some sort of magic and was later impaired for life because of it. For as we all know, we wizards are superior to Muggles in that their minds are unable to comprehend what we do with magic.”

 

  _Did he just call Muggles stupid?_

_I think so, yes._

_Fuck him._

   “In our efforts to prevent further exposure and danger to Muggles, we must consider that damage comes in many forms. If a Muggle were to witness that sort of magic, the damage it could do to his or her mind could possibly be permanent, even if he or she were to be Obliviated, perhaps even especially.”

 

 Harry pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and rubbed at his eyes, not able to believe what he was hearing.

 

   “Thus, I believe that granting exceptions to this law would be detrimental on all fronts,” Malfoy said in conclusion. “No good could come of it.”

 

   “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Fudge said. “I will now allow for questions.”

 

 Harry dropped back in his seat, staring blankly down at Malfoy. He hadn’t realized Ministry proceedings could be so tedious. Glancing at Dumbledore, he leaned over slightly, then whispered: “How long will this go on?”

 

 Dumbledore glanced at his watch. “I suspect quite a while,” he said. “Be patient.”

 

 Harry fell back against his seat with a huff, glaring down at the court floor and at Malfoy’s subtle smirk. He wondered if anyone could be more arrogant than Lucius Malfoy.

 

 It seemed like everyone and their mother at the Wizengamot had a useless question about this or that minor detail in Malfoy’s bill. No one asked why the hell he though banning all magic in Muggle areas was a good idea, no, they were all too concerned with what exactly determined an area to be Muggle or Wizard, or if all witches and wizards would be required to have the Trace put back on them, or some other nondescript bit of information. Harry checked his watch nearly every ten minutes, the time agonizingly slow as the second hand ticked on.

 

 At quarter to nine, Fudge finally declared the time for questioning to be done. He banged his gavel and called for silence. “Are there any others who wish to speak before we move to a vote?” Fudge called out, Harry sat up straight in his seat as Dumbledore stuck his hand in the air. “No one?” Fudge announced, looking the other direction. Dumbledore rose from his seat.

 

   “I wish to speak,” the Headmaster declared.

 

   “Ah, Professor,” Fudge said, sounding thoroughly disgruntled. “Of course, you do. We really do not have much time for –”

 

   “You allowed for Mr. Malfoy to answer questions for over an hour, Minister,” Dumbledore reminded him, his own voice sharp, “and I counted multiple repetitions of questions. I believe I am entitled to have the floor for a short period of time.”

 

 Fudge glanced behind him at the red-robed wizards, then gave a heavy sigh and banged his gavel. “Professor Albus Dumbledore has the floor.”

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod, then made his way from his seat towards the aisle. Harry half rose from his seat, but the Headmaster glanced back at him and gave him a placating nod. Harry shrank back in his chair, watching as the Headmaster took the long walk to the courtroom floor.

 

 Professor Dumbledore took up the podium that Malfoy had only just vacated. He took one, long look around the room, his usually encouraging eyes cold as they swept the room.

 

   “To react to the events this morning,” Dumbledore began, his voice grave, “with a ban on all magic would be tantamount to suicide. We should not be busying ourselves with what we should do, but with who did it.”

 

   “Get to your point, Headmaster,” Fudge said.

 

   “Six months ago, Minister, you came to my school to respond to a school event gone awry,” Dumbledore called, “you declared it an accident and moved on. I will hold my tongue no longer. Six months ago, Lord Voldemort was resurrected to power.”

 

 Harry wasn’t sure how he expected the Wizengamot to react. Perhaps with shocked gasps, shouts of denial, fainting, whatever. He did not expect stony silence.

 

   “The terrorists who attacked Kings Cross Station this morning were the agents of Voldemort, working in hopes to stir panic amongst us, to disarm and alarm us all. If we pass this bill, we would give him what he wants; a nation in fear and unable to defend itself.”

 

   “What evidence do you have for this?” Fudge asked.

 

   “I brought with me an eyewitness,” Dumbledore answered. “Harry Potter.”

 

 There were the whispers. There were the gasps and the mutters he’d expected. Harry stared straightforward at his professor, ignoring the sudden hundreds of eyes on him.

 

   “How could the Dark Lord have returned?” Madam Bones asked.

 

   “Through an evil sacrament,” Dumbledore answered her, “so described in Felicia Tiberina’s Black Book. Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, and blood of the enemy. He implanted his own agents in my school, and used the Triwizard Tournament to his advantage, to capture Potter and use his blood for his resurrection.”

 

   “What agents?” Fudge asked harshly.

 

   “Aurora Sinestra, Barty Crouch, Jr., and Ludo Bagman,” Dumbledore said. “Aurora Sinestra was too young to have been a member of his order fourteen years ago, and therefore was able to trick me into trusting her. Barty Crouch was said to have died in Azkaban, but in truth, he was smuggled out by his mother and father, replaced by his mother who was using Polyjuice Potion. Ludo Bagman was acquitted of being a Death Eater in the excuse that he was simply too dumb to know what he was doing, while he was actually a member of the inner fold of Death Eaters.”

 

   “Aurora Sinestra was proven to be mad,” Fudge declared. “She and her brother were sent to Azkaban earlier this year for the unlawful kidnapping of a wizard and his wife.”  


   “That wizard was Abraham Vance,” Dumbledore replied, “the man who translated and decoded the Black Book and prepared the sacrament that brought back Voldemort, under threat of losing his wife and his own life.”

 

 Further mutterings echoed throughout the courtroom; Fudge banged his gavel, calling out: “Silence! Silence!”

 

 Dumbledore stared patiently up at the Minister.

 

   “How could Barty Crouch, Jr., have been an accomplice?” Fudge demanded. “No one but Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban!”

 

   “As I said,” Dumbledore answered, “his mother used Polyjuice Potion to take his place. She was the one who died and was buried on the prison grounds.”

 

   “This is all very convenient for you, seeing as Barty Crouch, Sr., is dead as well,” Fudge pointed out.

 

   “Yes, he was said to have committed suicide, as he was very ill and had been for quite some time,” Dumbledore replied dryly, “however, according to his Healer, his supposed illness was non-existent until barely a month before his death, when his son cursed him in order to cover up his murder.”  


   “What about Bagman, then,” Fudge demanded, “are you asking us to believe that he was secretly working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the past decade and a half, despite having proven that his cooperation with Death Eater Rookwood was a misguided attempt to improve his own standing in the Ministry?”

 

  “Yes, I am,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “You already had Mr. Bagman arrested and sent to Azkaban for sexually assaulting several young girls, a feat he managed to successfully hide from the Ministry until I provided all the evidence needed to try him. If he was capable of hiding a history of pedophilia from you, I am sure he was able to hide his other radical beliefs.”

 

 Amongst the shocked gasps and fervent mutterings, Harry leaned forward slightly to look at Fudge, who was purple in the face but for his lips, which were white from pressing them together so tightly. He glanced back at Dumbledore, whose expression was still just as calm and cold.

 

   “Bring your witness forward,” Fudge said coldly.

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “I call one Harry Potter to the floor.”

 

 Ginny gave Harry’s hand a quick squeeze as he pushed himself to his feet. Brushing off his robes, he made his way down the row to the aisle leading down. As he walked, the Wizengamot members around him fell silent, until he reached the aisle and there was a heavy silence blanketing the stands. Harry held his gaze on his feet, walking quickly but carefully down to the courtroom floor. Dumbledore stepped aside as he approached, and Harry took the podium. Looking up, he swallowed as he met Fudge’s irate gaze.

 

   “Present your testimony, Mr. Potter,” Fudge called.

 

 Harry cleared his throat. “Last year, Hogwarts hosted the Triwizard Tournament and I was selected to participate. Students above the age of seventeen were allowed to enter their names to the Goblet of Fire for selection, but I wasn’t old enough. Someone entered my name for me, we think they managed to Confund the Goblet into believing there were four schools participating instead of three and entered my name under the fourth school in order to ensure I was picked. There were three tasks, the third taking place in June of this year. It was a maze, and at the center was the Trophy; whoever reached it first would be declared the winner. Except Bagman had turned the Trophy into a Portkey. Professor Sinestra was stationed inside the maze to keep anyone from getting too close so that I would reach it first. She attacked two of the other champions, injuring Fleur Delacour and killing Cedric Diggory.”

 

 Harry paused, taking a breath. For a second, he was sure he smelled the blood, but he ignored it. He couldn’t think about that just then.

 

   “I and another champion, Viktor Krum, reached the center of the maze at the same time that Sinestra killed Diggory. Krum dueled with her, she cut off his arm, then I dueled her, but she knocked me into the Trophy. The Portkey took me to a graveyard in the village of Little Hangleton, where Sinestra’s brother and Abraham Vance were waiting. Like Professor Dumbledore said, Vance was forced to create the potion for Voldemort to be reborn. Vance took bone from the grave of Voldemort’s father, then cut off Sinestra’s hand for the flesh of the servant, then he took blood from my right arm.”

 

 Harry stopped again, then reached over and rolled up his right sleeve. “I still have the scar.”

 

   “What happened after that?” Madam Bones asked.

 

   “The potion changed colors, then Vance put the homunculus that Voldemort was possessing into the potion.”

 

   “How was he able to possess a homunculus?” Bones demanded.

 

 Harry glanced out of the corner of his eye at Dumbledore, then back up at the high podium and Bones. “After he attacked me as a baby, the curse rebounded, but it only destroyed his body. His soul was left on earth, it was weak, but able to possess small animals and such. The homunculus was created specifically for him, so his soul was able to inhabit it for long enough that Vance was able to create a new body for Voldemort.”

 

   “How was his soul left behind?” Bones asked. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

 

   “It isn’t possible to survive the Killing Curse, yet I’m standing here,” Harry said. “I don’t know how he managed to survive that night, but I do know that he’s got a new body now, that he’s alive and he ordered the attack on King’s Cross today.”

 

   “How can you prove that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ordered the attack?” Fudge asked him sharply. “The insurgents who carried out the attack all killed themselves and none of them bear his mark. The Dark Lord never ordered his Death Eaters to perform suicide attacks during the war.”

 

   “Because that’s the kind of thing Voldemort does!” Harry insisted. “He does things that don’t make sense so that he can confuse us and trick us into thinking that it’s something else, when really it’s all to accomplish his goal in a way we won’t notice!”

 

   “That is not enough,” Fudge snapped.

 

 Harry gaped at him. Then he glanced down, then caught the eye of Lucius Malfoy. Harry clenched his jaw, remembering that the last time he met eyes with Malfoy, it had been in a graveyard and Malfoy’s face had been hidden behind a mask.

 

   “What about the fact that the bill you’re voting on today was drawn up by a Death Eater?” Harry said coldly, never moving his gaze from Malfoy’s.

 

 Fudge banged his gavel amongst the sudden shouting that filled the courtroom. Malfoy held Harry’s gaze, his face stony and impassive. “Silence!” Fudge called, banging his gavel still. “I will have silence in this court!”

 

   “You accuse Lucius Malfoy of treachery?” Madam Bones demanded of Harry.

 

   “I accuse him of being there the night Voldemort returned,” Harry said. “Voldemort likely wrote this bill for him.”

 

   “Lucius Malfoy is an upstanding citizen,” Fudge snapped, “he is a generous philanthropist and vocal advocate in the Wizengamot. He was proven innocent in 1982 and is innocent to this day. If this is all you have to your claim, then I must say, Mr. Potter, it is a weak attempt to discredit Mr. Malfoy.”

 

   “He was there!” Harry swore. “Give him Veratiserum and ask him, he’ll confess! You could give me Veratiserum, even. I am telling the truth!”

 

   “The use of Veratiserum on an underaged wizard for court proceedings is outlawed,” Fudge said coolly.

 

   “I’ve been emancipated,” Harry said.

 

   “That changes nothing,” Fudge told him. “If you have finished giving your testimony, you may return to your seat.”

 

   “But –”  


   “Your seat, Mr. Potter,” Fudge repeated harshly.

 

 Harry glanced at Dumbledore, but found his Headmaster expressionless. He turned away, stepping down from the podium.

 

   “I believe we have heard enough from you, Professor,” Fudge said as Harry made his retreat to the stands. “If you have nothing more to say, you may return to your seat as well.”

 

   “I wish to call for a vote,” Dumbledore said calmly. Harry paused at the steps, turning back. “Would all those who believe the Wembley Act unwise in light of the new evidence please raise their hands?”

 

 Harry looked around, already feeling emboldened by the number of hands rising to the air. Then Fudge banged his gavel.

 

   “Professor Dumbledore, you may take your seat. We are going to vote on the Wembley Act.”

 

Harry glanced at Malfoy, but the adult was just as impassive as before. Dumbledore strode from the court floor to the stands, then waved Harry forward. Turning, Harry quickly advanced up the stairs, Dumbledore on his heels. They passed down the row in silence, everyone watching them until they had reached their seats. Ginny reached over and took Harry’s hand.

 

  _They’re not going to let the bill pass,_ she thought.

 

_I hope so._

 

 Fudge banged his gavel once more, then raised his wand. “All those in attendance with eligible votes, please take a ballot and cast your vote. When you have finished, the ballot will vanish and appear in the box before me. You have ten minutes.”

 

 Fudge gave his wand a flick, then slips of paper appeared before every Wizengamot member in the court. Harry didn’t get one. He looked around as the witches and wizards wrote down their votes, then slowly as the ballots vanished and reappeared in a sealed glass container that had appeared before Fudge. While an hour had dragged on before, the next ten minutes seemed to take days. Harry sat forward in his seat, watching nervously for Fudge to open the box. It filled slowly, until finally, Fudge banged his gavel.

 

  “The time is finished,” the Minister declared. “Any who have not submitted their vote will be discounted.”

 

 Harry clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into his palms.

 

 Fudge tapped the box with his wand, and the glass lid vanished. He gave the wand another wave, and the ballots lifted into the air, dividing themselves automatically. Harry held his fingers tighter. The two groups looked nearly even. The two groups floated downward, settling in front of Madam Bones and the other witch that had entered with Fudge. Both women drew their wands, then began to count the ballots. Harry leaned forward more, watching as the two witches counted. Fudge leaned down and spoke to Madam Bones, but his voice did not carry throughout the courtroom as it had before. Madam Bones gave a nod, then Fudge spoke to the other witch. Leaning back, Fudge flicked his wand at his throat.

 

   “There are a total 320 votes,” Fudge announced. “165 of which are in favor of putting Lucius Malfoy’s Wembley Act of Caution into action. I declare the Wembley Act of Caution hereby enacted.”


	56. The Order of the Phoenix

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

**The Order of the Phoenix**

**Harry**

 

 

It was chaos. Harry sat in stunned silence, staring blankly at the half-wall before him while around him Wizengamot members jumped up by the dozens and started shouting. He couldn’t decipher legible words amongst the screaming. His gaze flicked to where Lucius Malfoy sat with his son and saw him smirking triumphantly.

 

   “I WILL HAVE ORDER!”

 

 The banging of the gavel and Fudge’s words, spat loud enough to hear over the uproar, jerked Harry’s gaze to the Minister’s seat. Fudge kept banging his gavel, shouting: “ORDER! ORDER!”, but the shouting did not quiet. Harry pressed his hands over his ears, shrinking back against his seat, the shouting was beating on his eardrums painfully.

 

   “SILENCE!” Fudge screamed, and abruptly, the entire courtroom cut to a hush, so fast that it was almost disturbing.

 

 Fudge’s glare was evident even from across the courtroom. He set down his gavel, his face livid and purple.

 

   “This kind of behavior will not be tolerated,” he declared. “We put the Wembley Act to a fair vote, and it won with a majority.”

 

   “There are 30 members of the Wizengamot not present!” someone shouted. “This was no fair vote!”

 

   “Silence!” Fudge shouted, banging his gavel once again. “The Wembley Act has been passed and will be put into effect! I will hear no more disrespect!”

 

 The courtroom made no move. No one spoke. Fudge gave the room a long look, then set down his gavel. “Now, if you all will cease behaving like children, we will move on to the claims of Albus Dumbledore that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned.”

 

 The court occupants slowly resumed their seats. Harry found himself staring blankly ahead of him, unsure of what to do and what to say. Fudge gave the courtroom one more stern look, then stopped as Amelia Bones, sat near him, rose to her feet.

 

   “Madam Bones,” Fudge announced. “You may address the Wizengamot.”

 

 Madam Bones did not spare Fudge a single glance. She swept her gaze across the courtroom, before landing it on the seat of Lucius Malfoy, her face an odd mixture of calm and contempt. “If Dumbledore speaks truth, then this act has just sealed the death certificates of all wizards and witches in Britain.”

 

   “Now, see here, Madam Bones –”

 

   “My Lord Minister, if you will excuse me, I believe I have been given the right to address this court at large,” Madam Bones said sharply. Minister Fudge recoiled, his face purpling again. “The events at the Tri-Wizard Tournament this last summer were highly unusual and suspicious, and yet the most I, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, ever heard about it was a statement released by yourself, Minister, declaring all that had happened to be a tragic accident.”

 

   “Madam Bones, those events –”

 

   “Were clearly investigated improperly,” Madam Bones snapped. “These allegations that Barty Crouch, Sr., rescued his convicted Death Eater son from Azkaban just to have him turn and kill him at the very least should have been looked into the moment they were proposed. I should have had reports on my desk the night young Cedric Diggory was killed, and yet nothing of the sort occurred. I do not speak for the other members of the Wizengamot, but I am certain that each of us is at least mildly curious as to why no investigation was ever done, Minister.”

 

   “Cedric Diggory was impaled by a Wyvern,” Fudge announced. “Barty Crouch succumbed to the stresses of a chronic illness that left him bedridden and addled for months. Allegations of conspiracy are simply that, Madam Bones; allegations.”

 

  “If they are simply allegations, where is the documentation of the investigation to prove they were allegations, Minister?” Madam Bones demanded. “Why did I never see a _memo_ let alone a bloody case file declaring Cedric Diggory’s death to be an accident?!”

 

   “Madam Bones, please remain civil when addressing the Minister,” the loud voice announced. Madam Bones shot a scathing look to the ceiling, angered by a non-corporeal voice.

 

   “No investigation was needed, Madam Bones,” Fudge said coldly.

 

   “Minister, at what point did I have my job swept out from underneath me?” Madam Bones shot back. “Because that decision is one to be made by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

 

   “I was on the scene of the accidents and declared it to be so,” Fudge answered her, his voice rising in anger. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

 

   “You bet your fine silk robes I am, Minister,” Madam Bones said, and the entire courtroom gasped. Fudge’s face drained of color.

 

   “Madam Bones, please take your seat,” Fudge said.

 

   “Minister, the clauses of rule 19 declare that Mugwumps and court overseers are excluded,” Madam Bones replied with a cool voice. “I cannot be forced to take my seat.”

 

   “You swore an oath to use impartial judgment in this courtroom, Madam Bones –”

 

   “So did you, Minister,” Madam Bones interrupted.

 

   “Madam Bones, if you would like to call for an investigation into the _accidents_ occurring at the Tri-Wizard Tournament in June –”

 

   “Then I call for an investigation,” Madam Bones said, spreading her hands. “Show of hands, who agrees that the suspicious events at the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament appear to have been covered up and deserve investigation?”

 

   “Madam Bones –”

 

   “I called for a show of hands, Minister,” Madam Bones interrupted once more. “Unless you’d like to forbid this motion, remain silent.”

 

 Fudge’s lips were white, and a vein was pulsing in his temple. Harry could see it even from across the courtroom.

 

 Dumbledore raised his hand into the air. Madam Bones held out a hand to the professor, looking around the room with a set jaw. A man across the courtroom, twice as high up as they were, lifted his hand into the air.

 

 It was like a wave, one that lifted slowly so that you thought it would dissipate before even touching the shore, but resolved into becoming taller than the average man, one that crashed into any in its way with an unrelenting force. The hands filled the courtroom, until more than half the room had their hands raised. Madam Bones turned to the Minister.

 

   “It seems we have a majority,” she said coldly.

 

 Fudge gave her a look that boded nothing but ill will, then violently banged his gavel. “Motion passed,” he said in a tone just as icy as the woman before him. “An investigation into the accidents at the Tri-Wizard Tournament shall be launched.”

 

 Harry sought out Lucius Malfoy’s face, trying to see if there was anything even resembling panic in his eyes, but the man was too far away from him to tell. Neither Malfoy were looking at each other, Draco looking like a younger copy of his father, the both of them staring at Madam Bones with unreadable expressions.

 

   “If there is nothing else you wish to say, Madam Bones,” Fudge began, but the witch cut him off before he could finish.

 

   “There is something else, yes, thank you for reminding me, Minister,” Madam Bones said. “I would like to make the investigation into the attack at King’s Cross completely public.”

 

   “The investigation is just begun, Madam Bones, an Order of Transparency would be early let alone warranted.”

 

   “I am aware of that, Minister,” Madam Bones replied with scorn. “I also believe that the people deserve to know every littlest detail about the case that is stripping them of their rights.”

 

   “The Wembley Act is not to be questioned, Madam Bones,” Fudge declared. “It was passed with a majority and it shall remain so.”

   “Oh, trust me, Minister, I will do my very best to ensure that every witch and wizard in Britain is given the right to defend themselves if attacked by terrorists,” Madam Bones said scathingly. “My first argument will be to remind the Wizengamot of the fact that 30 members are currently not present, but that is a matter for another time.”

 

   “Madam Bones –”

 

   “I would like to call another vote,” Madam Bones said, completely ignoring Fudge’s popping veins again, “show of hands, who agrees that the investigation into the attacks at King’s Cross this morning should be open to public record immediately?”

 

 The hands were faster this time. Dumbledore was within the first twenty to cast his vote, but half the courtroom had followed within a minute.

 

   “Another majority,” Madam Bones said with a smile of grim satisfaction. “That settles it then, Minister, I will release any and all information we have immediately after this session.”

 

 Fudge gave her a glare that was not even remotely well hidden, then banged his gavel once more. “So be it,” he said tonelessly.

 

   “Now I am finished, Minister,” Madam Bones announced, her tone cool and yet simultaneously wrathful. She bowed, first to the courtroom at large, then to the 12 Mugwumps behind her, then finally to Fudge himself. “Thank you.”

 

 Fudge banged his gavel, his face sour. Madam Bones took her seat, and dozens of others jumped up as well, but Fudge banged the gavel again, and announced above the sudden chatter: “This session of the Wizengamot is concluded. We will meet again at 9 a.m. tomorrow to discuss any further concerns. Thank you.”

 

 There was shouting again, but Fudge rose from his seat and the disembodied voice boomed out above the shouts: “Please exit in an orderly and respectful fashion.”

 

   “Harry, Ginny, with me,” Dumbledore said, just loud enough to be heard. They rose from their seats and Dumbledore lead them to the aisle and the steps down to the courtroom floor. Harry held tightly to Ginny as the Wizengamot members pressed in on them while they walked, inhaling deeply when they reached the aisle.

 

   “I shall take you back to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore told them on the stairs. “I’ll explain further once we are someplace private.”

 

 Harry only nodded, following Dumbledore’s quick steps. The courtroom seats were draining into the aisle, witches and wizards standing all around him and maybe just a little too close. Harry held Ginny’s hand as tightly as his chest held itself, his lungs feeling like he was being pressed into a very small corner, or perhaps a cupboard.

 

 Dumbledore grabbed Harry’s shoulder and guided them in front of him at the end of the stairs, the vast courtroom floor releasing the squashed feeling on his lungs. “To the exit, quickly now.”

 

 Harry mumbled a _yes, sir_ and lengthened his stride. Dumbledore kept a hand on his shoulder, his fingers holding tightly to him, but Harry barely noticed. The exit from the courtroom filled to bursting into the dark and empty hallway made Harry take a long, deep breath, then Dumbledore led them through a doorway into a wide set of stairs.

 

   “This way,” he said, and Harry felt immediately grateful that they didn’t have to take an elevator with a dozen other people. Dumbledore stepped in front of them again and started up the stairs, his pace never slowing, so they followed just as quickly. They came out to a carpeted hallway lined doors and a bank of elevators across the hall.

 

   “The Wizengamot members will all be taking the main elevators,” Dumbledore explained as he opened a brass gate. “I do not wish to be overheard.” He cast a glance at Harry, telling him that the professor knew he had been feeling overwhelmed by all the people.

 

   “What are we going to do now?” Ginny asked.

 

   “The Wembley act calls for all witches and wizards to be refitted with the Trace,” Dumbledore answered as he pressed the button for the atrium, “however, a modified version that is put on the wands rather than the wizards. In order to accomplish our goals, we shall be needing untraceable wands.”

 

 Harry glanced sharply over to the Headmaster, who was staring calmly at the now closing gates. The elevator lurched, then began to rise slowly upward. “Where would we get untraceable wands?”

 

   “You’ll see,” Dumbledore answered cryptically, then the elevator gate opened again and a disembodied woman announced they had arrived at the atrium. Looking around, however, Harry saw very few people, much less than there had been when they had first arrived. “These are service elevators,” Dumbledore told them, stepping out. “This way.”

 

 There were fireplaces down this shorter leg of the atrium, where Dumbledore conjured flame and then tossed Floo Powder into it. “Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts,” he declared, then stepped into the flame. Harry took a pinch of the Floo Powder, then let Ginny go before him. As the flame died again, he heard someone shout his name.

 

   “Wait, Potter!”

 

 Harry turned, and started in shock as he saw Madam Bones running toward him. He hesitated, clutching his fistful of Floo Powder. The older witch slowed to a jog and then a fast walk, then stopped in front of him.

 

   “Give this to Albus,” she said, handing him a bound scroll. “And you didn’t see me.”

 

 With that, she took a spoon from her pocket, then vanished in a flash of light. Harry blinked.

 

   “Right then,” he muttered, turning back to the fireplace. “Right.”

 

 He tossed the Floo Powder into the grate, and said clearly, “Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts!” He stepped into the green flames and spun out of sight.

 

* * *

 

Drawing a long breath, he felt a small sense of relief wash over him. The air was cold, crisp but not chilling, it filled his lungs with clean oxygen that managed to calm his fast-beating heart, even if it did nothing for his mind. It was strangely warm for December, he thought abruptly. That, however, was caused by the many wards over the grounds, not the weather. He leaned back against the stone off the fountain, feeling the cold seeping from the granite into his clothes and flesh. The cold was soothing to him. Something that reflected what was going on in his mind.

 

   “Be prepared,” his father had said to him as they left for home. “You will likely be called upon at a moment’s notice to complete your mission.”

 

   “Yes, father,” he had answered emotionlessly. His father hadn’t noticed.

 

   “Remember, this is an honor bestowed to few your age. There are dozens ready to kill to be in your place, to have the favor you have been graced with. This mission is one of utmost importance.”

 

   “Yes, father.”

 

   “You had better not fuck it up.”

 

   “Yes, father.”

 

   “I don’t care what concerns you might surrounding him, do you understand? _You had better not hesitate._ ”

 

 It was then that he had winced. “Yes, father,” he had answered shamefully.

 

   “Don’t you just _yes, father_ me, do you bloody understand?”

 

   “I understand!”

 

   “Don’t raise your voice at me, young man,” his father said carelessly, yet somehow simultaneously vicious. “Remember who controls you.”

 

 He had clenched his fists, his chin trembling, but with his father behind him, that moment of weakness was not visible. “Yes, _sir_ ,” he had murmured tightly.

 

 His father had squeezed his shoulder, almost painfully. “Good. We shall be going to get you a new wand tomorrow for you to register. I don’t want you being held under this new law.”

 

    “Yes, sir.”

 

    “There’s a good lad.”

 

 His father squeezed his shoulder again, this time digging his nails into his flesh, then they were twisting and his lungs were being shoved through a pinhole, and the foggy air of the countryside surrounded them.

 

   “Dinner at 6, sharp,” his father said, striding past him towards the gate. “Wear dress robes, we’re having guests, a potential bride included.”

 

   “Yes, _sir_ ,” he spat quietly. His father didn’t hear him, already vanishing into the fog.

 

 He had made his way into the garden, through the hedge maze to the fountain that hadn’t carried water for years. He had dropped to the ground, his wand falling from his clenched fist, and held his head in his hands. Nausea churned in his stomach, his head spinning and empty at the same time. The thought that he had been exposed, told on, forced to speak truth, it made him want to walk to the nearest cliff and step off. Then again, it didn’t take much for him to want to jump off a cliff these days. He could trust no one, anymore, he realized. He shouldn’t have even said anything, to begin with, but it had been weighing on his shoulders for so long… It had been a relief to confess at first. To just have someone who knew, someone who had some sympathy for what he felt. Now, it was a numb sense of betrayal in his gut. He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry that he had been told on, he just felt… sad. No one would guard his secrets anymore. No one was even able to.

 

 Except… Maybe…

 

  _Maybe_ …

 

* * *

 

   “Harry, Ginny, come with me,” Dumbledore said. Harry barely had time to right his balance before the Headmaster was calling them, already climbing a set of stairs to a level of his office Harry had never been to. “Quickly!” Dumbledore added over his shoulder, disappearing through a door flanked with bookcases.

 

   “Professor,” Harry called, starting for the stairs despite a slight sense of dizziness in his brain, “Professor, Madam Bones gave me something just after you left.”

 

 Dumbledore stepped back into view. “What?”

 

   “This scroll,” Harry said, climbing the steps two at a time. “She ran up to me just before I took the Floo, handed this to me to give to you, and told me that I didn’t see her.”

 

 Dumbledore took the scroll he was holding out and severed the string holding it shut with his wand. Unrolling it, the Headmaster glanced over it quickly, then he nodded and rolled it up again.

 

   “Follow me,” he repeated, then disappeared once again into the bookshelves. Harry glanced at Ginny, then followed Dumbledore.

 

 There was a large room beyond the bookshelves, with a long table lined with chairs and a second fireplace at the end of the room. Dumbledore was standing at the head of the table, writing something on a piece of parchment.

 

   “Fawkes!” Dumbledore called. There was a flash of flame, and the phoenix appeared at his shoulder. “Take this to Madam Bones at her home.”

 

 The phoenix let out a trill and took the parchment in his talon, then disappeared in another flash of flame.

 

   “Harry, if you would do me a favor and call your godfathers from this fireplace, I shall summon the others via Patronus,” the Headmaster said.

 

   “Uh, sure,” Harry said, striding down the long room. “Um, who are you summoning?”

 

   “You’ll see,” Dumbledore said, flicking his wand. A second, barely opaque phoenix appeared, this time made of silver light rather than flesh and bone. Harry took a pot of Floo Powder from the mantle, but paused to watch Dumbledore address his Patronus.

 

   “The time has come,” the Headmaster said. “Come to my office immediately if you are able.”

 

 Dumbledore waved his wand again, and the phoenix vanished. The Headmaster turned, then raised his eyebrows at Harry. “Oh, sorry, right,” Harry muttered, and dropped down to his knees in front of the fireplace. “Defense Against the Dark Arts’ teacher’s quarters,” he announced, then stuck his head into the fire.

 

 Opening his eyes, he saw the sitting room of his two godfathers, devoid of any life. “Sirius?” he called out. “Remus?”

 

 The bedroom door opened and both men exited quickly into the sitting room. “Harry!” Sirius said, sounding very relieved. “How did it go?”

 

   “Not good,” Harry admitted. “The Wembley Act passed.”

 

   “What?” Sirius and Remus gasped together. “You’re not kidding?” Remus asked, as if Harry would be. Harry just shook his head.

 

   “Dumbledore said you should come to his office,” Harry said. “He’s calling a meeting of some sort, I think.”

 

 Sirius and Remus exchanged glances. “The Order,” Sirius said. Both of them held solemn expressions, but Harry didn’t have time to think through their body language.

 

   “The Order of the Phoenix?” Harry asked.

 

 Sirius nodded. “We’ll be there just as soon as you get off, Harry,” his godfather said. “Go on.”

 

   “See you in a bit then,” Harry replied, and pulled his head back. With a soft pop, he was back on the floor of the long conference type room in Dumbledore’s office, Ginny standing behind him, hugging herself and biting at a nail.

 

   “People will be arriving momentarily,” Dumbledore said to them, standing at the doorway back out to the main office. Harry nodded, lifting himself up off the ground to take Ginny’s hand. She glanced at him, then dropped her other hand from her mouth, just nodding. He squeezed her hand gently.

 

  “Sirius, Remus, up here,” Dumbledore called. Harry looked up as Dumbledore stepped away, then his godfathers crossed through the doorway.

 

  “The Order’s meeting?” Sirius asked instantly.

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore said. “There should be – ah, Minerva, Severus, up here, please.”

 

 Harry stiffened immediately at the sound of Snape’s name, his hand clutching Ginny’s more tightly now, and faced the doorway with a stony expression. Sirius was just as tense as Harry, standing with his arms crossed and his face guarded. McGonagall entered the room first, her robes swishing behind her, to be followed by a sallow-looking Snape.

 

   “Severus, you look ill,” Remus said almost immediately.

 

   “It is no concern of yours,” Snape replied sharply.

 

   “He was only being polite,” Sirius said darkly.

 

 Snape bared his teeth in what was bound to be an equally scathing retort, but Dumbledore held up his hands. “Please, gentlemen, do not bring petty boyhood feuds into this now, we have a crisis on our hands.”

 

 Snape recoiled, then crossed the room to take a seat. Sirius set his jaw, while Remus sighed softly, taking his– Harry frowned suddenly, not knowing what Sirius was exactly to Remus. Husband? Lover? Boyfriend? He’d never considered it. Remus took Sirius’s hand, regardless.

 

  _They’re too old and been together too long to be boyfriends._

_Yeah but… they’re not actually married._

_So they’re lovers?_  


_That’s gross, Ginny._

_Harry, it’s just a word._

 Harry didn’t answer, as her parents had just stepped into the room. “Albus,” Mrs. Weasley said. “What’s going on?”

 

   “I shall explain everything when we are all here,” Dumbledore told her. “Please, take seats.”

 

 Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined McGonagall at the table, talking to her in quiet tones. Professors Flitwick and Sprout entered next, then the Vances, then people Harry didn’t recognize began to enter the room. Sirius and Remus crossed over to join them by the fireplace, silent still, then Tonks arrived and came to stand beside them. She hugged Ginny, then Harry.

 

   “It’s good to see you two alright,” Tonks sighed.

 

   “They were half a world away, Dora,” Sirius said, trying for a smile. Tonks tittered, then half-heartedly pushed at him.

 

   “Don’t mock me, I’m pregnant,” Tonks muttered, but she was smiling.

 

   “How are you?” Ginny asked her.

 

   “Fine,” Tonks answered with a sigh. “The little bugger’s growing fast, I swear he’s already dancing on my bladder and it’s still the first trimester.”

 

   “He?” Harry asked.

 

 Tonks shrugged. “I can just tell,” she answered. “My mum agrees with me.”

 

   “You’ve told them then?” Remus asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

   “Yeah,” Tonks admitted with another sigh. “Day before yesterday. I was staying with them when the news came. We were going to go up to visit my granny in Manchester, you know, but the train was delayed.”

 

   “Thank Merlin,” Sirius said.

 

   “Yeah,” Tonks agreed.

 

   “If you could all please take a seat,” came Dumbledore’s voice, interrupting them. “I shall begin the meeting.”

 

 Sirius jerked his head towards the table, and the group of them moved to the table, taking seats near the very end. Dumbledore was standing at the other end, his hands splayed on the table and a very serious expression on his aged face.

 

   “You all likely have heard of Lucius Malfoy’s Wembley Act of Caution by now, I trust?” Dumbledore asked. There was a murmur of ascent from the table, but a few people shook their heads. “Essentially, it’s forbidding we wizards from using any magic in front of any Muggle or in any Muggle place, even in cases of self-defense.”

   “That’s preposterous,” a fat man in the middle of the table exclaimed.

 

   “It’s calculated,” Dumbledore answered him. “The law requires all wands be fitted with a new version of the Trace, rather than all wizards, allowing for Death Eaters to sneak past it. However, the same loophole applies to us. Garrick?”

 

 Harry glanced towards the other end of the table, where the old wand-maker of Diagon Alley, Ollivander, was sitting. “I am capable of supplying each of you with second wands,” the wand-maker said. “When you are asked to come in to register and have your wand Traced, bring this second wand rather than your usual wand.”

 

   “The Trace will only notify officials when you perform magic in a Muggle area or in front of a Muggle,” Dumbledore continued, “so worry not about anyone noticing odd patterns.”

 

   “Are you saying that the Wembley Act was passed?” someone asked.

 

   “It was,” Dumbledore admitted, and the whole table gasped. “There were ten swing votes and thirty members absent. I do not believe that was a coincidence, however, that is a worry for another time. Right now, we must discuss our strategies.”

 

 Fawkes suddenly appeared behind him, dropping a piece of parchment before vanishing in another flash of flame. Dumbledore caught it before it hit the ground, glanced over it, then shoved it into the pocket of his robes.

 

   “We have limited support within the Ministry,” he told them. “Madam Bones and many others are on our side, however, Fudge is in Malfoy’s pocket, and we already know he’s working for Voldemort.”

 

 Up the table, Snape shifted in his chair.

 

   “The press is not likely to take our side either,” Dumbledore continued. “Barnabas Cuffe, the editor of the _Prophet_ , is a close friend of Fudge’s, but as far as I am aware has no direct ties to Voldemort. There will certainly be moles within the Ministry and the _Prophet_ , so from now on, you tell no one about our goings ons except for other Order members, and only if you are absolutely sure that they have not been replaced by a Death Eater taking Polyjuice.”

 

   “Should we start using passwords again?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore answered. “Establish secret codes with each of your loved one’s, other Order members, et cetera. If my identity is ever put in question, know that my favorite sort of sweet is a Muggle lemon drop.”

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod, then raised his wand. A blackboard appeared behind him, floating in the air. He pointed his wand at it, and a diagram began to sketch itself out.

 

   “As far as we know, Voldemort has a dozen or so old followers outside Azkaban prison,” he began. “Lucius Malfoy will be the biggest one, as he has plenty of Ministry influence. The Parkinson, Goyle, Crabbe, and Greengrass families, in addition to the Malfoys, will likely be his biggest financial backers, but as for foot-soldiers, I expect he will be recruiting soon if he hasn’t already. There were twelve total involved in the attack today,” he added, “and none were associated with any of his previous followers, two of them were still in school when he first vanished.

 

   “The attack was a suicide mission, as you probably have heard,” Dumbledore announced. “So far, the Ministry has found and identified 43 witches and wizards killed, 54 injured, and over a hundred Muggles dead or injured. Likely, Voldemort used the Imperius Curse on those who committed the attack, as I doubt many new recruits were willing to kill themselves immediately, nor would he have wanted to be out 12 Death Eaters so soon.”

 

   “Do we know who the attackers were yet?” McGonagall asked.

 

   “Their identities were not released yet,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “However, Madam Bones has successfully obtained an Order of Transparency, so all information will be released to the public by morning.”

 

   “That will be useful,” McGonagall said, a tone of relief in her voice.

 

   “Indeed,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “Fortunately, not only do we have ears within the Ministry, but we have an ear inside the Death Eaters.”

 

 Harry immediately looked to Snape, who was staring at the table coolly. Everyone else was looking at him too.

 

   “Professor Snape has agreed to take the risk in being a double agent,” Dumbledore went on, as if the whole room wasn’t staring at Snape in shock or disdain. “Voldemort trusts him, and therefore we should be able to gain a level of knowledge otherwise inaccessible.”

 

 Beside Harry, Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore abruptly looked at him, for a moment holding his gaze silently, then Sirius dropped the gaze, looking down at the table. Harry glanced between them but Dumbledore was already moving on.

 

   “What we know so far is that Voldemort has very little manpower currently,” Dumbledore continued. “He is also being very guarded, discussing things with very few people, so not even Severus can tell us what exactly is going on at the moment.”

 

   “So that was why we had no warning,” Sirius said.

 

 Dumbledore nodded. “It seems Voldemort is learning from the past. Unfortunately, he was incredibly intelligent even back in the first war.”

 

   “What reason would he have to attack now?” a woman near them asked. “I mean, it’s Christmas holidays!”

 

   “Exactly,” Dumbledore said. “A guarantee that the station would be full.”

 

   “Then why wouldn’t he do it on Christmas day?” Remus asked.

 

 Dumbledore let out a sigh. “I cannot be sure.”

 

 Harry shrank a little in his chair. He didn’t like all the _I don’t know_ ’s he’d been hearing since he’d arrived back in the UK that evening. Afternoon. He didn’t know.

 

_Hypocrite._

_Oh, hush, Ginny_ , but he smiled. Ginny squeezed his hand gently, giving him a soft smile of her own.

 

   “Continuing with what we do know, however,” Dumbledore said, attracting their attention again, “is that he’s going to try and break out some of his old followers from Azkaban.”

 

 It was Sirius’s turn to have all eyes swivel towards him. Sirius glanced around, then subtly slid downwards in his chair.

 

   “As we only have one person who’s ever been imprisoned there let alone escaped,” Dumbledore said, “it would be very useful to hear what you know, Sirius.”

 

   “They won’t be going out the way I did,” Sirius said immediately, his gaze fixed on the table. “I managed to escape in my Animagus form only because I was thin enough to slip through the bars, and they’re barely four inches apart.”

 

 Harry saw Remus reaching for Sirius’s hand under the table.

 

   “What about security there?” Dumbledore asked. “What can you tell us about that?”

 

   “The – the Aurors only do checks every few hours,” Sirius said. “Maybe every three, every five, I’m not sure. The Dementors are the ones that keep constant watch. In high security, they stand guard outside the cells, bring the food, do everything. Aurors aren’t allowed to use Patroni in high security, so they stuff themselves with chocolate whenever they have to come down there.”

 

   “What manner do the Dementors have?”

 

   “I – The same manner they always have, I don’t know,” Sirius confessed. “I didn’t spend much time analyzing my surroundings.”

 

 Dumbledore nodded, not responding to Sirius’s distress at remembering his time at Azkaban or perhaps just not noticing in his focused state. “Given the number of inmates, I expect the Dementors are full, so to speak, having a constant source of emotion to feed on, which won’t make it any easier on Voldemort to break anyone out but it won’t make it any harder. Amelia has promised to keep me in the loop for any news from Azkaban, and she’s promised to increase security there wherever she can, but, again, not a coincidence, Malfoy has been moving to decrease the number of Aurors who have to endure the prison. In any other time, this would be beneficial, but in light of recent events, it’s dangerous.”

 

   “How long has he been campaigning?” Flitwick asked.

 

   “His bill was first introduced in September,” Dumbledore said, inhaling deeply in a way that was almost a sigh. “It keeps getting tabled, but I expect he’ll put some new twist on it and try again soon.”

 

   “What do you suggest we do, then?” Remus asked. “Go to Azkaban and patrol it ourselves?”

 

   “No, no, nothing of the sort,” Dumbledore said quickly, “there’s no way we’d be able to do that without drawing suspicion or risking our own safety. In fact, there is little we can do inside the prison, but a few of us have Wizengamot seats, we can vote against Malfoy’s bill, and most especially we can keep a close eye on the prison and on Voldemort. Severus is progressing greatly with Voldemort, and I expect he’ll be back at Voldemort’s right hand quite soon.”

 

 Dumbledore paused for breath, looking at the diagram, now containing sketches and labeled names of known or unknown Death Eaters, suggested tiers of the group, and other information, then turned back to the group at large. “Without Ministry support, I confess that we are at a great disadvantage, even with a mole inside the Death Eaters, and especially without the popular support of the people, we’ll be even further disadvantaged. For the time being, all I can ask you to do is spread the word. Give people the facts, try to sow doubt in the story Fudge and the _Prophet_ are offering. Keep your families updated and aware, this is no time to keep secrets from your children.”

 

 Harry could swear Dumbledore looked at Mrs. Weasley briefly before going on. “Stay diligent. Anything you might see or hear, report it back immediately. For now, there are no tasks I can assign you, no objectives other than to spread the word and keep updated.”

 

   “What about the future?” Professor Sprout asked. “What do you think we’ll need to do later on?”

 

 Dumbledore glanced between her and his diagram of Death Eaters. “To be honest with you, Pomona, I cannot be sure for the time being. It seems that Voldemort is trying to weaken us politically before he attacks us directly, hence the attack this morning and the Wembley Act.”

 

   “So there’s nothing that we can actively do,” Harry said.

 

 All eyes turned to him. Dumbledore slowly clasped his hands in front of himself, looking at Harry calculatingly over his glasses. Harry squirmed slightly in his seat, disliking the two or three dozen pairs of eyes examining him.

 

   “It depends on what you mean by active, Harry,” Dumbledore admitted. “For the time being, we will be in the mode of espionage rather than warfare, but trust me, battle will come. Once Voldemort feels he has sufficient wand-power, he will attack again, the difference is that we will be ready.”

 

   “What about trying to find him while he’s still weak?” Harry asked. “Why haven’t we found him already?”

 

   “We have been trying,” Dumbledore told him calmly. “Madam Bones has had a secret taskforce searching for him since June.”

 

 Harry deflated. Why hadn’t Dumbledore told him that before?

 

   “What leads have they found?” asked a man down the table.

 

   “They found a handful of the locations he’s stayed at in the past several months,” Dumbledore answered. “Speculation at the moment is that he’s moving every few days, perhaps every week.”

 

   “What are some places he’s hid in?”

 

 Dumbledore looked suddenly uncomfortable, looking away. “Mostly abandoned structures, houses, and buildings in urban areas that haven’t been occupied in quite some time. There was a point in mid-October that he was staying in the village of Godric’s Hollow.”

 

   “Not –” Sirius started, then Dumbledore shook his head.

 

   “Not in their cottage,” he said. “In my childhood home.”

 

 At this, an uneasy silence settled over the room. Harry glanced at Sirius, wondering whose cottage he had been talking about, but also how Dumbledore could be so calm about knowing that the most evil wizard of the century had slept in his home.

 

   “Since October, we’ve found one other place that we believe he inhabited,” Dumbledore said, moving on as if nothing had happened at all. “He’s not stayed in the same place twice, and lately we believe he’s been on the continent, likely in the south of France. The Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madame Maxime, has promised to keep a wary eye out for strange disturbances in France and Spain, and so far there have been none. That fits within his profile, however. Even back then, he was focused on conquering Britain before moving on to other nations.”

 

  _God, Voldemort trying to conquer other nations…_

_It’s definitely a scary thought._

   “What about tracking down Death Eaters who weren’t imprisoned last time?” asked Professor McGonagall. “I know twenty just off the top of my head that never set foot in Azkaban.”

 

   “And half are dead by now,” Dumbledore answered. “Those that did not answer Voldemort’s initial summon in June have gone missing or found dead already. Karkaroff, for example, was found in July. He vanished some time after the end of the Tournament, but was killed not long after. Very few have been allowed grace.”

 

 Dumbledore glanced towards Snape as he said this, then quickly away. Harry looked over at him too, seeing the hooked nose drawn back in distaste and the dark eyes fixed on his hands, clasped on the table.

 

   “We were able to locate four former Death Eaters before Voldemort, however,” Dumbledore said, “two of which agreed to give us information in exchange for help escaping, one refused to cooperate, and another was brought in and sent to Azkaban for other crimes. The two who agreed to help gave a fairly comprehensive list of those Death Eaters still living and free, and we are trying to track down more.”

 

   “Where did those two end up?” asked someone.

 

    “Remote locations in the Western hemisphere,” Dumbledore answered. “I do not even know if they are still there.”

 

   “What else can we know for sure?” Flitwick asked.

 

   “The attack on Azkaban is coming,” Dumbledore promised. “And there will be a definite search for recruits, and those who refuse will likely be killed.”

 

   “What about protecting ourselves?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “Surely You-Know-Who will be looking to decrease the number of people opposing him.”

 

   “I will personally set up wards at all of your residences if so necessary,” Dumbledore said. “For those of you who have wards already, strengthening them is advisable, and for those who do not, get some. I have to recommend fewer outings, unfortunately, especially if you believe you are being watched. Freedom is a luxury you may not have in the coming months.”

 

  _Freedom,_ Ginny thought abruptly. _The soul can be forever free._

_What?_  


_It’s something I heard in a dream. There was something else too… I can’t remember what it was._

   “For now, that is all I have to give you,” Dumbledore was saying. “Stay vigilant. Stay cautious. Thank you.”

 

 There was a chorus of chairs scraping the floor as the room’s occupants rose. Harry followed Sirius and Remus out automatically, but paused when he realized that Ginny was lingering behind, talking to her parents. He waited for her, watched as she hugged first her mother, then her father, then took her hand as she joined him at the exit.

 

  _I think we should get some rest,_ he thought. _It’s been a long day._

 

 Ginny nodded, yawning as if to prove his point. They found Sirius and Remus standing with Tonks by the office exit, talking quietly to each other.

 

   “Yes, I’m sure, Sirius, I’m bloody sure, it – oh, hello, you two,” Tonks said, cutting herself off and smiling at them.

 

   “What are you sure about?” Harry asked her.

 

    “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Listen, now that you’re back, we’ll resume our training first thing tomorrow, alright?”

 

   “Right,” Harry said, and for once he wasn’t about to complain. Tonks nodded, then gave Sirius and Remus a glance, and made for the queue at the fireplace.

 

   “We’ll walk you to Gryffindor tower,” Sirius said, opening the office door.

 

   “Thanks,” Ginny said, her voice quiet.

 

    “What was that about?” Harry asked his godfathers as they descended the spiral staircase to the fourth floor.

 

   “Don’t worry about it,’ Sirius said stiffly. “We’ll talk about it later. For now, it’s late and you two have been out of the country for two days. It’s off to bed with you.”

 

   “More specifically, it’s off to sleep with you,” Remus added.

 

 Ginny and Harry both blushed while the two men chuckled at them. Sirius threw an arm over their shoulders.

 

   “You always blush after the first time,” he said in conspiratorial voice. “It’s part of the deal.”

 

    “You’re going to make them blush further,” Remus warned Sirius. They had entered the staircases up to the other floors now, taking them up to the seventh and Gryffindor tower.

 

   “That’s half the fun!” Sirius said with a laugh. “You remember how James used to tease us!”

 

   “What would he do?” Harry asked, as always eager to hear about his father.

 

   “He’d remind us every five minutes that we weren’t allowed to do it in the dorm room,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes. “Not that it stopped us.”

 

 Harry suddenly regretted asking. Sirius laughed at his face, patting him on the shoulder.

 

   “Ron likes to make fusses over PDA too,” Ginny mused, smiling lightly. “It’s always fun to make them squirm, isn’t it?”

 Sirius laughed again and clapped Ginny on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Gin.”

 

 They reached the seventh-floor a while later, and Sirius and Remus left them outside Gryffindor Tower. As they made their way through the portrait hole, the common room suddenly exploded with sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So, I’m thinking of making a little change to the schedule. How do weekly updates instead of every other week sound? Yeah, yeah, stop squealing, I’ll see you next week for the next chapter._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _seven days..._
> 
>  
> 
> _(sorry had to)_


	57. In The Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _okay, this is the actual next chapter you can calm down now. *cue evil laughter* MWAHAHAHA! Did you guys like my little joke? Hope you did, but yeah, still doing every other week for updates. Love y’all! Incidentally, by the time you finish this chapter, last week’s prank and the littler prank from last year are available for perusing in a new story called_ For In Pranks _, so anyone who wasn’t around last year or missed last week’s can go and read them!_

**Chapter Fifty-Seven**

**In the Mourning**

**Harry**

 

   “IS IT TRUE?” “DID IT REALLY PASS?” “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HAPPENED, POTTER?” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN CEDRIC DIGGORY WAS MURDERED?” “THERE ARE PEOPLE DEAD AND YOU WANT TO DRAG YOUR ASS BACK INTO THE SPOTLIGHT?”

 

 Harry found himself physically staggered by the number of people shouting at him. There was a line of people pressing against the entrance, angry faces and crying and a few people doing both at the same time. Harry felt the urge to cover his ears and run away.

 

   “ALRIGHT, EVERYONE JUST FUCK OFF FOR TWO SECONDS!” Ginny abruptly shouted, and the common room silenced.

 

  _I didn’t actually think that would work but okay._

 Then: “What the hell is going on?”

 

 Ron had made his way to the front to the crowd, and was looking at them with a shocked expression, eyebrows raised and waiting.

 

   “Erm…” Harry said.

 

   “What the fuck did you do, Potter?” “Why are you bringing this up after so long, it’s been six bloody months!” “Why didn’t you say anything when it actually happened?” “You-Know-Who is fucking dead, Potter, quit vying for the spotlight!” “Actual people have been killed, why does this matter?”

 

   “Everyone just shut up!” Ron shouted and again the Gryffindors quit their shouting. Ron gave the room a once-over, his face serious as the plague. “Yelling at Harry is not going to help with anything, he didn’t do this!”

 

   “Yeah, but he’s going and making a fuss in the Wizengamot over a wizard that’s been dead for fourteen years!” Cormac McLaggen snapped.

 

   “He’s not dead now and he wasn’t dead then,” Harry retorted. “He’s back.”

 

   “How could he not be dead?”

 

   “I don’t know,” Harry said, lying only a little. “I should be dead and I’m not, am I?”

 

   “What even happened?” “Why are you saying Diggory was murdered, the Ministry said he got impaled by a Wyvern!” “What happened?” “What happened?” “What happened?”

 

   “You can read about it in the _Prophet_ ,” Harry snapped, grabbing Ginny’s hand and making his way through the crowd.

 

   “Why won’t you tell us?” “Are you lying?” “What are you hiding?” “What actually happened that night?”

 

   “I’m not lying, and it’s all going to be in the _Prophet_ ,” Harry shouted. “There’s an order of transparency or something about this, so literally everything will be in the _Prophet_.”

 

   “What aren’t you telling us?” “Who killed Diggory?” “How can You-Know-Who really be back?” “He was dead, he can’t be back!” “What are you hiding!?”

 Harry yanked open the door to the boys’ dorms and ducked into the stairwell, Ginny behind him closing the door.

 

   “Good God,” Ginny sighed. “What do we even do?”

 

   “Ignore them,” Harry said decisively. “I said my piece once, I don’t need to repeat it every five minutes for every confused person.”

 

   “Harry,” Ginny said, pausing. He stopped walking, turning back to face her. “What are you going to say to the people who lost family?”

 

 Harry opened his mouth, then dropped his gaze.

 

   “What are you going to tell Alicia when she asks what happened? Or Colin and Denis?”

 

   “I – I don’t know…”

 

 Ginny took a step up and pressed a hand to his cheek. “I understand that you don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured. “But some people deserve a response that isn’t _read about it in the paper_.”

 

 Harry nodded. “You’re right.”

 

 Ginny pressed a kiss to his lips. They heard the door to the stairs opening and Harry grabbed her hand again to continue going up. Ginny squeezed it, letting him lead her up and away from whoever had just entered. At the very top of the stairs, they entered the second set of dorm rooms, immediately going into their room.

 

 Inside, Harry dropped onto the sofa, covering his eyes with a hand. “What do we do, Ginny,” he murmured.

 

 Ginny dropped down beside him, then lay out on the cushions with her head in his lap. “You’re going to pet me,” she declared.

 

 Harry smiled, letting out a light chuckle. He dropped a hand and started running his fingers through her silky hair, combing it absently.

 

 Someone knocked on the door. They both looked up, then at each other. Ginny lifted her head and Harry got up to answer the door.

 

 Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and Neville were there. “Can we come in?” Ron asked.

 

 Harry nodded, stepping back to let them in. Ginny sat up on the sofa, and Seamus dropped down beside her, then Dean dropped onto the couch beside his friend, taking his hand.

 

   “Me mam’s dying,” he said bluntly.

 

   “What?” Ginny gasped.

 

   “Me mam’s dying,” he repeated. “What the fuck is going on, Harry? Me mam’s in St. Mungo’s and all the Healers are telling me that the best outcome is that she’ll be in a coma for another ten or so years, and that’s just _my_ mam. At least a dozen kids got pulled out of bed this morning to go identify their parents’ dead bodies!”

 

   “I don’t know!” Harry said, covering his face and groaning. “No one knows anything except that Voldemort’s gonna try and break out a bunch of people from Azkaban sometime soon but not how soon or who, he’s also trying to disarm us legally and now he’s succeeded, Fudge is in Malfoy’s pocket and Malfoy is in Voldemort’s pocket, the Ministry and the _Prophet_ aren’t likely to take our side, basically we’re royally fucked.”

 

 Seamus blinked. He glanced around, then pulled his hand away from Dean and cradled his head in his hands.

 

 Ron touched Harry’s shoulders. “What’s Dumbledore doing?” he asked.

 

   “Reformed the Order of the Phoenix,” he answered dully. “But for right now he’s not telling them to do anything but try to spread the word.”

 

   “The order of the what?” Seamus spluttered, lifting his head.

 

   “Secret militia,” Neville said. “Dumbledore started it last time, to fight You-Know-Who.”

 

   “You-Know-Who is _dead_!” Seamus burst out, his face going red and a glisten appearing in his eyes. “You killed him more’n ten years ago!”

 

   “I didn’t kill him!” Harry insisted. “His body was destroyed but his soul stayed here, he was powerful enough to possess small animals, he possessed a homunculus and forced someone to craft him a new body for him in June, he kidnapped me from the Third Task and used my blood to fuel it. He’s not dead.”

 

 Seamus stared at him blankly, then blinked and wiped at his cheeks. “You’re tellin’ me,” he said slowly, softly, “that You-Know-Who’s been alive since June and no one saw fit to mention it?”

 

 Harry stared down at the dark red carpet, then looked up and nodded. “Yes. That’s what I’m telling you.”

 

   “Why the bloody hell not?” Seamus screamed. “Don’t ya think we would’ve appreciated knowin’ there’s a madman back from the dead out there ready to go and murder an entire train station full o’ people?”

   “Dumbledore made the choice not to say anything because Fudge didn’t want to listen,” Harry shot back, “he decided it would be best to lie low and not have to waste time and energy trying to convince people who would refuse to believe that Voldemort was back, because up until last night he was weak and alone and without any followers –”

 

   “Clearly he had enough to go and send off twelve of them on a suicide mission!”

 

   “Dumbledore reckons they were under the Imperius Curse,” Harry said, his voice falling. “They likely had no clue what they were doing.”

 Seamus faltered. He fell back against the sofa, staring at the cluttered surface of the coffee table with blank eyes. Ginny took his hand and squeezed it.

 

   “I just…” Seamus mumbled. “I don’t understand. Why now? Why – Why at all?”

 

 Harry cleared a small space on the coffee table and sat down on it, trying to think of how to respond all the while. After a minute, he just shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

 

 Seamus nodded, blinking rapidly again. Dean reached over and took his friend’s other hand, holding it between both of his own.

 

   “My family lives in London, Shay,” Dean said quietly. “You can come and stay with us while your mum’s in St. Mungo’s.”

 

 At that, Seamus choked out a sob. He pulled his hand from Ginny and collapsed on Dean’s shoulder, his shoulders shaking. Harry didn’t know what to do to comfort his friend, and it didn’t look like Dean did either, he just rubbed Seamus’s shoulder with his free hand.

 

 Seamus cried for a while. Neville and Ron joined Harry on the coffee table while Hermione sat down by Ginny, crying silent tears of sympathy for Seamus. Neville and Ron looked like how Harry felt, clueless as to how to help Seamus. Ginny rubbed Seamus’s back, her eyes dry but her chest tight. It was a seven-person mourning party, and none of them knew what to do.

 

 Seamus finally hiccuped and lifted his head from Dean’s shoulder, rubbing at his face. He looked both ashamed for crying and like he wanted nothing more but to keep sobbing quietly. Harry wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. In the mourning, Harry felt like an outsider. He hadn’t ever had a mother that he could mourn. He didn’t even remember his mother.

 

  _You’ve got my mother, Harry._

_Yeah, I know that, it’s just…_

_Different?_

_Yeah._

   “I’m going to make you some tea,” Ginny said to Seamus, squeezing his shoulder. “Alright?”

 

 Seamus just nodded, now staring at the ground, his face splotchy and pale.

 

 Ginny got up from the couch, Hermione did too, and the two girls disappeared into the kitchenette. Harry heard sounds of the kettle being filled, then shifted on the coffee table, trying to find something to say.

 

   “What am I going to do?” Seamus whispered. “My… me mam’s dying and I’m just sittin’ here sobbing.”

 

   “It’s okay,” Dean assured him. “Your mum would understand.”

 

 Seamus sniffed. “Neville, Harry,” he said abruptly, “I’m – I’m really, really sorry I ever made a ‘your mum’ joke in front of you.”

 

 Neville opened his mouth, shut it, then nodded quickly. “It’s okay, mate,” he said. Harry just nodded.

 

   “It’s – They’re really not tha’ funny,” Seamus muttered.

 

   “No, I s’pose not,” Neville murmured.

 

 Seamus looked around, then wiped at his face again. “I’m – I’m sorry guys,” he mumbled, his hand still covering his face, “I didn’t mean to – _hic_ – to break down like this.”

 

   “It’s alright, Shay,” Dean said softly. Seamus shrugged, then stood up from the couch, pulling his hand away from Dean. Dean dropped his gaze while Seamus started to pace, still covering his face.

 

   “Tea,” Ginny announced, levitating mugs in front of her. “Here, Seamus.”

 

 Seamus nodded and took the tea from her wordlessly, clutching it but not drinking. Hermione and Ginny distributed the other mugs, took seats again. Harry stared down into the inky surface of his tea, sugarless and black, just the way he liked it. He barely noticed that Ginny made his tea the way he liked it without his even needing to think about it anymore.

 

   “To Seamus’s mum,” Ron said suddenly, raising his mug into the air. “And to all the people who were there.”

 

   “Cheers,” Seamus murmured, and the call was echoed. They took long, deep gulps, then fell into silence again. Harry drank from his cup again, swishing it over his tongue and swallowing quietly.

 

   “Harry,” Seamus said. Harry looked up. “This – This Order thing – Can I join?”

 

 Harry blinked. Then he nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure you can.”  
 

 Seamus nodded, his jaw set. “Good,” he muttered. “I want to see the bastards who did this taken down.”

 

   “They will be,” Harry promised.

 

 Seamus only bobbed his head again, his eyes locked on his mug of tea. The silence was cold and unforgiving.

 

 Some time later, Ron stood up. “It’s late,” he said, “I’m going to go down to the kitchens and get some proper food. Harry, do you want to go with me?”

 

 Harry glanced up, to find Ron looking at him with raised eyebrows, and he got the feeling that he wouldn’t be allowed to say no. “Right,” he muttered, setting down his now empty mug and rising from the coffee table. They both patted Seamus on the shoulder as they left.

 

 The stairs down were empty again, all the dormitory doors shut, but the sounds of crying could be heard behind every few doors. When they got down to the common room, they found it empty and dark. The sun had gone down hours ago, and the fire in the grate was reduced to embers. Harry watched Ron’s feet as he walked behind him, waiting for Ron to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

 

   “What happened in the Wizengamot?”

 

 Harry inhaled, having not expected that question. “Malfoy,” he began. “Malfoy happened.”

 

 Ron glanced at him, then looked back down at his feet, his jaw clenching. “But the Wembley Act,” he murmured, “how did it pass?”

 

   “It was a close call,” Harry sighed. “165 out of 320 voted yes.”

 

 Ron frowned, then said: “They won by ten votes.”

 

 Harry nodded. “Dumbledore says that there were 30 Wizengamot members absent at the time of the vote, and Madam Bones is going to try and use that to contest it, but…”

 

 Ron nodded. “Fudge is in Malfoy’s pocket,” he voiced.

 

 Harry sighed, nodding and running a hand through his hair. “Malfoy’s doing a lot of sneaky things to strengthen Voldemort’s position,” he said. “Like this magic restriction, or trying to reduce the number of Aurors who have to patrol Azkaban. I just… I have no clue how I’m supposed to stop all that.”

 

 Ron glanced over at him again, then frowned down at his feet. “Mate… I think maybe you’re not supposed to.”

 

 Harry looked over at him, copying his friend’s frown. “I’m the Chosen One though, I have to defeat Voldemort.”

 

 Ron gave a shrug, biting his lip, then answered. “In chess, there’s fourteen pieces, right?”

 

 Harry blinked, unsure what metaphor or parable Ron was trying to give him. “Right…”

 

   “And the strongest is easily the queen, but there’s only one of her.”

 

 Harry had a flash of a smile and looked away. “Ron, are you calling me a queen?”

 

 Ron snorted, shoving him lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up, I’m trying to impart wisdom on you. There’s only one queen, but there’s two knights, two bishops, two rooks.”

 

   “And seven pawns.”

   “Right. So in chess, the queen can’t fight the other player all by herself. She’s got to have the rooks and the knights and the bishops to help her, and sometimes they can be more valuable than the queen. Like, the knight can jump and the queen can’t.”

 

   “So I need to learn to play leap frog?”

 

   “What?” Ron said. “No, never mind, that’s not my point. I’m trying to say that you’re not alone in this. You and Voldemort are the two queens, but you’ve got rooks and knights and bishops and even pawns to back you up, because even a pawn can put a king in check.”

 

 Harry let his frown slip a little, staring at the ground as they continued to walk. Ron’s chess parable was making sense.

 

   “I guess you’re right,” he murmured.

 

   “’Course I’m right, I always beat you at chess.”

 

 Harry chuckled. “Then you can be my strategist,” he said.

 

 Ron snorted. “Yeah, like real war is anything like chess. I think you’d better stick with Dumbledore.”

 

   “Does that make him the king to my queen?”

 

   “That’s mildly disturbing, Harry, don’t ever use that analogy again.”

 

   “Good point.”

 

 They turned a corner, both quiet, and started down the stairs to the basement. Then Ron spoke again.

 

   “Ginny can be the king, though.”

 

 Harry chuckled. “She’s too strong-willed to stay back and avoid everyone. She’s like… like one of the knights.”

 

   “Oi! I wanted to be the knight!”

 

   “Ron, there are two knights.”

 

   “Yeah… but I wanted Hermione to be the other knight.”

 

 Harry snorted. “You’re hopeless.”

 

 Ron gave him another light shove. “As long as I’m no pawn.”

 

   “I don’t want pawns,” Harry said. “At least, I don’t want any people to be pawns.”

 

   “Not everyone can be a knight, Harry.”

 

   “Yes, they can, we’ll exchange all the pawns for knights and bishops.”

 

 Ron rolled his eyes. “Sure, Harry.”

 

 Harry gave Ron’s shove back to him, making him laugh. “Better yet, we’ll turn it into a game of laser tag and just confuse Voldemort into submission.”

 

 Ron frowned. “What’s laser tag?”

 

 Harry opened his mouth, inhaled, and sighed. “It’s… it’s tag. With laser guns.”

 

   “What’s a laser gun?”

 

   “Never mind, Ron.”

 

 They had reached the basement by then, and Ron reached up to tickle the pear rather than press Harry on what laser guns were. The pear squirmed, then transformed into a doorknob and Ron opened the portrait into the kitchens.

 

   “Hello, young masters!” came the squeaky voices of several house elves. “How may we’s help you?”

 

   “Some food would be good,” Ron said. “Sandwiches? Or pancakes? I dunno what time you’re on right now, Harry.”

 

 Harry abruptly brushed, remembering the last time he ate pancakes. “Erm, sandwiches.”

 

   “For two?”

 

   “For seven,” Ron said. “And can we get like, I dunno, some chocolate cake or something?”

 

 Harry looked at Ron with furrowed brows. “What’s the cake for?”

 

 Ron shrugged. “I dunno, I like to have cake when I’m upset. Seamus is pretty upset. And if chocolate wards off the effects of Dementors, maybe it makes you less sad?”

 

 Harry nodded. “Good point.”

 

 The house elves had already started bustling about assembling sandwiches and chocolate cake by then, so there was no point in questioning it. Abruptly, however, something crashed into Harry’s legs and almost knocked him to the ground.

 

   “Harry Potter, Harry Potter, sir, you has come to visit Dobby!”

 

   “Dobby!” Harry gasped, grabbing Ron’s shoulder to stop himself from face-planting in a mop bucket. “Careful!”

 

   “Oh, sorry, sir, deeply sorry,” Dobby tittered, but he kept himself firmly attached to Harry’s leg. “Dobby is so happy to see you, sir!”

 

   “It’s good to see you too, Dobby,” Harry said, then awkwardly patted the house-elf’s head. “Erm, how are you?”

 

   “Excellent, sir!” Dobby beamed up at him, his colorful ballcap almost falling off his head as he did. The elf caught it and straightened it, letting go of Harry in the process. “Dobby is serving Professor Dumbledore, sir!”

 

   “Are you really?” Harry asked.

 

   “Yes, sir, and Professor Dumbledore is giving Dobby lemon drops and he is giving Dobby a raise!”

 

   “A raise?” Harry said. “That’s good.”

 

   “Oh, yes, sir, Dobby is getting fifteen galleons a month, sir!”

 

   “That’s great, Dobby,” Harry said, trying to feel happy for the elf while his friend was upstairs dreading the death of his mother. In a way though, he was glad that the elf was so excited and happy right then. It cast a contrast to the depressing air of the entire day.

 

   “Yes, Harry Potter, sir, yes, Dobby is buying brand new ties now, look!”

 

 Dobby proudly displayed the seven ties he was wearing. “Professor Dumbledore is gifting this one to Dobby for Christmas!” he added, pointing to a brightly rainbow patterned tie.

 

   “They’re beautiful, Dobby,” Harry said, smiling a bit sadly. The elf grinned in delight, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he displayed his proud collection of ties. Harry thought suddenly of Anna Williams, sitting with an expression of shock with a three-year-old who was wailing for his mother, and the contrast between the happy elf and the deaths that had occurred strengthened.

 

   “Professor Dumbledore is telling Dobby to care for the Slytherin dormitories, too, though,” Dobby said, his smile fading. “Dobby doesn’t really like it down there, but Professor Dumbledore is always giving Dobby extra lemon drops for it!”

 

 Harry frowned. “Why are you cleaning the Slytherin dorms?”

 

   “Just a few of them, sir,” Dobby said. “The fifth-year boys’ dorms. Professor Dumbledore is letting Dobby chat with him after, though, Dobby finds he quite likes a bit of gossip.”

 

   “What gossip?” Harry asked.

 

   “Here is your sandwiches and cakes, sirs!” said a second elf, pushing a tray into each Harry and Ron’s arms. “Have a good evening, sirs!” The elf made a shooing motion towards Dobby then. “Go and tidy up the washing station, Dobby!”

 

   “Of course, Dobby will do that right away,” Dobby answered, already turning away.

 

   “What gossip?” Harry asked him again, ignoring the wobbly tray of cake in his hands.

 

   “Oh, Professor Dumbledore is telling Dobby not to share with anyone else, sir,” Dobby said. “But Dobby is sure you don’t count. Professor Dumbledore is wanting Dobby to tell him about one of the students, sir, he is telling me I is being the best for the job because I is knowing him already.” Dobby’s ears drooped a little. “Dobby is thinking secretly that he doesn’t really like having to spy on Master Malfoy, but Professor Dumbledore is assuring Dobby that it’s alright!”

 

 Harry blinked. “Dumbledore… Dumbledore’s spying on Malfoy?”

 

   “Professor Dumbledore is telling Dobby it’s because he is worried about Master Malfoy,” Dobby told him quickly, “he is saying that Master Malfoy is being risky. Dobby isn’t sure what that means, sir.”

 

 Harry stared agape as Dobby turned away and darted off into the crowd of elves, his bright red cap bobbing up and down as he skipped. “Dumbledore is worried about Malfoy?”

 

   “What the bloody hell does that mean?” Ron said.

 

   “I don’t know,” Harry murmured. “But I want to find out.”

 

  _Oi, Harry, where’s that food?_

_Coming, Ginny._

 

   “Come on,” Harry said, gesturing towards the door. “We should get back up there.”

 

   “Right,” Ron said, pushing open the portrait door with his foot. “Weird, though.”

 

   “Really weird,” Harry agreed.

 

  _What’s this about weird? Dean’s been trying to get Seamus to open up._

_Dumbledore is having Dobby spy on Malfoy._

_What._

_I know, it doesn’t make sense._

_What’s Malfoy up to?_

_I have no clue. Dobby says Dumbledore’s actually worried about the slimy bastard._

_You don’t think…_

_What?_

_He’s not a Death Eater, is he?_

_I’d say that if he isn’t one already, he’s destined to become one._

_You remember that lesson we had with Snape, when we eavesdropped on him and Malfoy talking? What if it’s about that?_

Harry frowned as he followed Ron up the stairs. _But Malfoy wouldn’t be upset about being a Death Eater._

_Obviously, but what if Dumbledore’s worried about what Malfoy’s going to do as a Death Eater?_

 Harry raised an eyebrow, agreeing with her silently. If Malfoy was a Death Eater, he had access to the entire school. He could be spying for Voldemort.

 

  _Or trying to do something for him._

 

  _I think we ought to pay a bit closer attention to Malfoy._

_I agree._

 

  “Potter, Weasley!”

 

 The two of them froze on the stairs; Harry made an expression of _oh no_ at the sound of Professor McGonagall.

 

   “What are you two doing out of bed?”

 

 They turned, Harry carefully to avoid letting the cake in his hands tip or fall. “We’re going back up to Gryffindor tower.”

 

 McGonagall blinked at them. “What – Why do you have a cake, Potter?”

 

   “Seamus’s mother,” Harry said. “She was at the station.”

 

 McGonagall’s shoulders deflated. She dropped her gaze, then quickly adjusted her spectacles and nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Go on. Be quick, now, it’s almost eleven.”

 

   “Yes, Professor,” they said together, then started back up the stairs. At a turning point, Harry glanced back at McGonagall, but she was already gone.

 

   “I still can’t really process it,” Ron whispered.

 

   “What?” Harry said, looking back up at him.

 

   “The attack,” he clarified. “I can’t… I can’t understand… I don’t know how to think, what to say.”

 

 Harry dropped his gaze to the ground again, his mouth slightly open but his brain shut. “I haven’t processed it, either, Ron.”

 

   “I mean, Mum sent us back this morning right away, me, Fred, George. When we got here, Alicia and Lee were leaving.”

 

   “Who…” Harry almost didn’t dare ask, “who did they lose?”

 

   “I don’t even know,” Ron answered in a heavy voice. “Lee was… he was crying. Like, full on sobbing.”

 

   “We saw them,” Harry said. “Alicia and Lee, I mean. All the mourners were gathered in the atrium. They were just… holding each other and crying.”

 Ron glanced over his shoulder at him, then fell into step beside him as the corridor widened. “Who… did you see anyone else?”

   “Colin,” Harry answered, thinking to just a few nights ago when Colin had been tittering about the aesthetics of pale skin. “Him and his brother. Lavender and Parvati, and Padma and I think their mum. And Williams, and just… too many people.”

 

 Ron nodded, his face pale and lips pressed tightly together. “When we got here, a bunch of people were gone, and not just the ones who went home for the holidays.”

  “They’ve got to be at the Ministry,” Harry said, not even caring if that was the truth. “They can’t all be…”

 

 He didn’t finish the sentence. They had reached the portrait hole, and both of them were just staring into space, trying and failing to avoid thinking about the possibility of the friends they had failed to count, the people they hadn’t noticed missing, anyone, anyone at all that might’ve been at the train station that morning…

 

   “Password?” asked the Fat Lady.

 

   “Fairy lights,” Ron said dully, and she swung forward. They climbed through the portrait hole, the both of them falling back into silence, finding the common room empty of life still. They took the stairs back up to Harry and Ginny’s room, where Harry knocked on the door with his foot.

 

 Hermione opened the door for them, waving them in with a hand. “Shh,” she added. “Neville and Seamus fell asleep.”

 

   “We leave for ten minutes and they fall asleep?” Ron said in a scoffing whisper. Neville was curled up in the loveseat and Seamus sprawled on the sofa. Dean and Ginny were sitting on the floor with their backs to the couch.

 

   “You were gone twenty minutes,” Ginny corrected. “Why’ve you got cake?”

 

   “For Seamus,” Ron said. “But I guess he’s not gonna want it.”

 

 Dean shook his head. “He’s been sleepin’ bad lately anyway, leave him alone.”

 

 Without wondering why Dean knew how Seamus was sleeping poorly, Harry set the plate with the cake on the coffee table, then snagged two sandwiches from Ron’s plate while he was setting it down. He dropped down next to Ginny, handing her one, and started to munch, having not realized how hungry he was up until just then.

 

   “It’s almost midnight,” Dean said as he took a sandwich.

 

   “Witching hour,” Harry said through a mouthful of ham and cheese.

 

 They all looked at him. “What?” he said, swallowing.

 

   “We’re all witches, Harry,” Ginny reminded him. Ron opened his mouth. “And two wizards,” she added before he could speak.

 

   “Leave me alone, I’m weird,” Harry muttered. Ginny shook her head and leaned on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple before returning to his sandwich.

 

   “Seems strange to ask, but how was your honeymoon?” Hermione asked timidly.

 

   “Excellent up until the point Remus Floo-called us panicking about Voldemort,” Harry said.

 

 Dean gave a sudden smile. “Did you ever get to use those handcuffs Fred and George gave you?”

 

 Ron turned bright red and Harry busied himself with his sandwich. Ginny leaned over and whispered something in Dean’s ear, at which Harry stiffened, then elbowed her. Dean laughed lightly while Ginny giggled.

 

   “What?” Ron said, looking mildly disgusted.

 

   “You don’t want to know,” Dean said.

 

 Something struck Harry in the back of the head; he jerked away from it, to find that it was only Seamus’s knee. “Does he squirm this much every night?” Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

 

   “Pretty much,” Dean answered. They glanced at him. “I’ve had to put him back in is bed over a hundred times,” he added. “He falls out and doesn’t wake up, then I trip over him on the way to the loo.”

 

 Harry gave a nod, looking at Seamus again. He looked much more peaceful than he had been when Ron and Harry left twenty minutes previous. The boy shifted again and flung his arm out over the side of the couch, draping it over Dean’s shoulder. Dean glanced at it, then sighed and ignored it.

 

   “D’you think his mum’ll be okay?” Harry asked.

 

 Dean looked over at him, then shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich. After a moment, he swallowed and leaned back against the sofa. “I have no clue,” he said. “When – We were still here, when it happened. Seamus’s mum was supposed to be visiting family, but I guess she came back early. The Ministry called him in really early too, it was right after we even heard about it.”

   “What happened to her?” Ginny asked.

 

   “The terrorists, they destroyed the station,” Dean said. “She got hit by half a dozen curses, then a metal beam collapsed on her.”

 

 Harry let out a hissing breath, not the only one to do so. Dean nodded, staring at his sandwich as if he’d just lost his appetite. “She’s stabilized,” he said. “But… but like Shay said, she might never wake up.”

 

 Harry looked down at his own half-eaten sandwich, then reached up and put it on the coffee table with an expression of distaste.

 

   “I think we should all stay in here,” Ginny said abruptly.

 

 Harry looked back at her. “What, like a sleepover?”

 

 She nodded. “There are spare blankets and pillows in the bedroom, Harry. Strip the bed if you need to.”

 

 Harry raised an eyebrow, but Ginny didn’t move. He shrugged and stood up, then gestured to Ron to have him follow. They went into his and Ginny’s bedroom, and Harry started looking for the spare blankets and such.

 

  _In the trunk at the foot of the bed._

 

 Harry opened it, finding several folded blankets and half a dozen pillows sitting inside a space that had to have been magically enlarged. He started pulling them out, Ron beside him, then they carried the bundles back into the sitting room. Ginny and Hermione had started conjuring long flat cushions, sleeping mats he guessed, and took the blankets from them. “This is good,” Ginny said. Harry and Ron moved the coffee table out of the way, putting it beside the sofa. Hermione draped a blanket over Neville while Dean did the same to Seamus. The five of them grabbed mats, Harry and Ginny putting theirs beside each other by the fire, Ron and Hermione by the door, and Dean in front of the sofa.

 

   “Goodnight,” Ginny called softly.

 

   “Night,” came a murmuring echo.

 

 Harry draped an arm over Ginny’s waist and pulled his pillow closer to the crook of his neck.

 

  _Goodnight._

_Love you._


	58. Remember

**Chapter Fifty-Eight**

**Remembering**

**Ginny**

 

Waking up the next day, Ginny felt stiff and achy all over. Her back was pressed to Harry’s chest, her spine feeling like it had been forced to conform to the hard ground for thirty years, her neck at just that right angle that made everything feel like she was arthritic, her hip sore and pulsating with a faint pain that the mat beneath her did nothing to aid.

 

 Blinking, she shifted from her side to her back, and everything clicked into their correct places, her spine popping unnervingly. She looked out at the rest of the room, seeing the loveseat Neville had fallen asleep in empty, Seamus almost falling off the edge of the sofa, Dean drooling onto his pillow, and Ron and Hermione spooning each other across the room. She rubbed at her eyes with her fists, then lifted her wrist to check her watch. Quarter to seven.

 

 She heard a toilet flushing distantly, decided it was just Neville, and tried to fall asleep again. There were no windows in the sitting room, but light from the bedroom was spilling into the room, staining her eyelids a dark orange that wasn’t conducive to sleep.

 

 She heard footsteps, then a body flopping onto cushions and the rustling of fabric being pulled over fabric. She glanced up at Neville, curling up in the loveseat with his pillow, then shut her eyes tightly again.

 

 Harry must have opened his eyes, then, because she was met with a suddenly blurry sight of red and cream.

 

   “Get your glasses,” she muttered in a raspy voice.

 

 Harry shut his eyes, and the blur vanished. Then he opened them again, blinked, and yawned. Ginny opened her eyes, finding his horrid vision disorienting, and stared blankly up at the ceiling.

 

  _Anyone else awake?_

_Neville, I think. He just got back from the loo._

Harry yawned again, then she yawned and rolled over to face him. He blinked down at her, squinting, then shut his eyes and smiled lightly.

 

  _I like sleeping in bed better than the floor._

_I agree, but solidarity._

_Yeah, I know._

Ginny glanced over her shoulder, seeing Seamus still perched on the very edge of the sofa with an arm dangling off the side and the other curled under his head. His face was blank in sleep, no indication of the angry panic he’d been in the night before.

 

  _His mum’ll be alright_ , she decided. _It’ll turn out okay_.

 

 Harry just nodded, his eyes still closed. Ginny shifted to lie on her back again, her eyes falling shut.

 

  _I feel like I should tell people._

 

_Tell them what?_

_The whole story. You were right. They deserve more than what the_ Prophet _says. They deserve to hear about it._

 Ginny didn’t answer him. She was still thinking about Seamus’s mum. She couldn’t imagine what it was like.

 

_The question is… is Seamus going to be okay? The people who lost family, are they going to be okay?_

 Harry just squeezed his arms around her, pressing his lips to her temple. The dark orange of her eyelids brightened slightly.

 

 Something fell onto her stomach and Ginny opened her eyes. Fawkes was perched on the mantle, looking at her with a beady eye. He let out a trill, then bobbed his beak at her. She looked down and found a scroll lying on her chest. There was a flash of light in the corner of her eye, and when she looked back up at the mantle, the phoenix was gone.

 

  _Okay then,_ she thought.

 

  _What is it?_ Harry asked her in a bleary thought. She picked up the scroll and broke the seal, unrolling it to answer his question.

 

   _“Harry and Ginny, the time for precautionary training is over. We shall now be meeting twice weekly whenever possible, and on Saturday evenings the both of you will begin additional training. Harry shall meet with me, and Ginny with Mrs. Vance. Be at my office tonight at 8 o’clock. – Professor Dumbledore.”_

 

  _Okay then._

 

   “What time issit?”

 

 Ginny looked up from the note to see Seamus sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. She glanced at her watch, then answered him with: “Almost seven.”

 

 Seamus fell back against the arm of the sofa, nodding vaguely and looking like death incarnate. He rubbed at his face, then dropped his hands and stared up at the ceiling.

 

   “Me mam’s dying,” he said quietly.

 

 Ginny felt a pang, knowing there was nothing she could do to comfort him. He kept staring at the ceiling, his lips parted and his eyes glassy. There was nothing he could do, either.

 

   “I thought when her and me da started fighting, nothing would ever be worse,” Seamus said. “I thought them getting divorced would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to go through.”

 

   “I’m so sorry, Seamus,” Ginny whispered.

 

   “It’s a trifle, now,” he said. “I’d go through it all again if it meant… If she’d just…”

 

 Seamus slid down on the couch, hugging himself slightly and continuing to stare blankly into space. Ginny wondered if she ought to get up and hug him.

 

   “I don’t even know if I believe Harry,” he said. “I don’t know how You-Know-Who could be back, I don’t know why anyone would do this.”

 

 Ginny said nothing, more out of not wanting to make Seamus feel worse by insisting.

 

   “Nobody knows a bloody thing,” he said.

 

   “I’m sorry.”

 

   “I know ya are. I know that much, at least.”

 

 Seamus glanced around, then dropped a leg off the edge of the sofa and nudged Dean. “Oi,” he said.

 

   “Wha’?” Dean half snorted, half gasped, sitting up with a jerk. “What?”

 

   “Can we get to St. Mungo’s by Floo from your house?”

 

   “We’d have to take a bus,” Dean answered, rubbing at his eyes. “Wait, what?”

 

   “You’ve got to get a Floo connection,” Seamus muttered.

 

 Dean glanced at Ginny, frowning. She shrugged. Dean muttered something under his breath and flopped back onto his pillow.

 

   “We should go get breakfast,” Seamus said.

 

   “There’s cake behind you,” Ginny said.

 

   “Cake?” Seamus spluttered, turning around. “Why the bloody hell is there cake?”

 

   “Ron’s idea,” Harry said.

 

 Seamus started, then flushed. “You’re awake,” he said.

 

 Harry nodded, then sat up and felt around for his glasses. Ginny picked them up and pushed them into his hands.

 

  “Listen, mate,” Seamus started, his voice distinctly uncomfortable, but Harry shook his head.

 

  “It’s okay,” Harry told him. “I don’t mind if you don’t believe me right now, you’re dealing with enough as it is.”

 

 Seamus just nodded. Ginny propped her head up on her arm, watching Seamus staring blankly at the coffee table. Dean flopped back onto his mat and buried his face in his pillow.

 

   “I don’t like chocolate cake,” Seamus said.

 

   “Who doesn’t like chocolate cake?” Ron muttered.

 

   “Is tha’ what wakes you up?” Seamus grumbled. “Me, I don’t like chocolate cake.”

 

   “Why don’t you like chocolate cake?” Ron asked, sitting up.

 

   “Because, it’s all sticky and spongey,” Seamus answered. “It’s too sweet.”

 

 Ron gaped at Seamus, then rubbed at his eyes. “Noted,” he mumbled. “I won’t bring you cake again.”

 

   “We should go down to the Great Hall,” Ginny said. If Seamus didn’t want cake for breakfast, they’d have to do something else.

 

 Seamus prodded Dean with his foot. “Wake up, mate.”

 

 Dean flapped a hand at Seamus’s foot, but Seamus poked him in the head. Dean groaned and sat up, rubbing at his eyes again.

 

   “’M up,” he muttered.

 

   “Breakfast,” Seamus told him.

 

 Dean nodded, dropping his head onto the couch behind him. Seamus bundled up his blanket and threw it at Neville; Neville sat up with a jerk and a snort, looking around blearily, his thin eyes squinting from the light and sleep.

 

   “Breakfast,” Seamus repeated dully.

 

   “Okay,” Neville mumbled.

 

 Ginny got up from the floor, her spine popped as she did, and walked into her bedroom. “You lot can raid Harry’s closet for clothes or use charms, I don’t care which.”  


   “I care!” Harry protested.

 

   “Hermione, you can borrow from me.”  


   “Thanks,” Hermione called back in a half-asleep voice.

 

 Ginny pulled a fresh bra and panties from her dresser, then socks and a fresh robe. She ducked into the bathroom to change, just in case one of the boys did need different clothes. She heard the door open, then soft footsteps. As she was tossing her socks into the laundry hamper, someone knocked on her door.

 

   “Ginny?” It was Hermione.

 

   “Yeah?”

 

   “I’ve got a bad feeling that I’m going to need something from in there.”

 

   “They’re under the bed, right side by the nightstand,” Ginny replied. “Do you want a different pair of underwear?”

 

   “I’ll just charm them clean,” Hermione answered. “Thanks.”

 

   “No problem,” Ginny answered, pulling her robe over her head. She pushed back her hair, starting to braid it back, then opened the door and stepped out. Hermione slipped past her, shutting the door gently. Ginny tied off her braid, then stood there, staring ahead as she tried to think of how to behave. One moment, there were over a dozen people dead, the next simple everyday activities like periods were occurring. What did one do in moments like this? How was one supposed to go on, act like everything was fine when everything was most clearly not? How was one supposed to deal with small things then when bigger problems like dying mothers and funerals for children were being scheduled?

 

 Harry stepped into the room. “Dean has requested Seamus’s socks be pitched,” he said to her.

 

 Ginny dropped onto the trunk at the end of the bed. Small things, like nasty socks, and big things, like dying mothers.

 

 Harry glanced at her, pausing as he opened his sock drawer. “You can’t keep dwelling on that,” he told her. “You can’t be so fixated with it.”

 

   “Socks,” she said quietly. “We’re worrying about socks and what to eat for breakfast.”

 

 Harry pulled a pair out at random, then knelt down in front of her, the hand not holding socks taking hers. “Gin,” he whispered, “you can’t do this. You’ve got to let that go.”

 

   “Let it go?” she murmured.

 

   “You’re…” Harry looked around, but she didn’t follow his gaze. “I dunno, you’re spacing out, I guess. You can’t let this break down everything into bases. It’s not all neat boxes, it isn’t supposed to be that way.”

 

 Ginny blinked. “What am I meant to do instead?”

 

 Harry dropped his gaze, his mouth closing, then he shrugged. “I made chicken soup,” he said simply. “You’ve got to find something that’s going to ground you.”

 

 Ginny didn’t know what he meant. She didn’t understand, but she nodded anyway. Harry didn’t look satisfied, but he kissed her forehead and stood up. Ginny kept staring ahead, thinking about socks and dead children.

 

 Harry paused in the doorway, looking back at her and trying to meet her gaze. _I mean it, love. Stop thinking about it._

 

 Ginny just nodded. Harry sighed and went back into the sitting room.

 

 The bathroom door opened and Hermione exited. She glanced around, then stepped over to her. “Thanks,” she said again.

 

   “No problem,” Ginny murmured, her eyes not moving. Hermione glanced at the door again, then dropped down next to her.

 

   “I heard what Harry said.”

 

 Ginny’s gaze dropped a little, but didn’t shift towards her friend. She nodded.

 

    “My granddad fought in World War II.”

 

 Ginny turned her head, her gaze sitting listlessly on the ground.

 

    “He moved in with my parents when I was 6, after my grandmother died. There used to be days when he would just sit in this big armchair in the parlor and stare at the wall.”

 

   “Why are you telling me this?” Ginny asked quietly.

 

 Hermione didn’t look at her, and she didn’t answer the question, not immediately. “They called it shellshock back then. It’s post-traumatic stress disorder now. But my granddad, he used to stare into space for hours. He’d look at me as if he’d never seen me before. He’d look at my mum like he’d never seen her before. There would be times when he couldn’t even tell us what was wrong.”

 

   “I’m fine, Hermione,” Ginny said.

 

   “Just listen,” Hermione said. “You and Harry had to deal with something horrible this summer. I can’t imagine what it was like. You haven’t talked about it until now. You saw Seamus last night, how he got embarrassed about crying over the fact that his mother is dying. My granddad refused to talk to people about what happened to him in the trenches, and he died not remembering his own name let alone my mother’s. Seamus needs your help, but you need help too.”

 

   “I’m fine,” Ginny insisted.

 

   “No, you’re not fine, no one here is fine,” Hermione said. “Harry keeps lashing out, Seamus can’t cry because he’s embarrassed about it, and you’re staring into space just like my granddad.”

 

 Ginny dropped her gaze to the floor again.

 

   “No one here is fine,” Hermione murmured.

 

   “We will be fine,” Ginny corrected.

 

 Hermione inhaled shakily. “You – you can talk to me, you know. You can tell me about things.”

 

   “I know,” she said.

 

   “Harry can talk about it, too. War is a traumatic thing. People should talk about stuff like that.”

 

 Ginny didn’t have words to respond. Hermione was staring at the ground, too. _War_ , she thought.

 

   “I hadn’t thought about war,” Ginny said. “I just thought… I dunno, I didn’t think about war.” Hermione gave a sigh.

 

   “Did you know that the start of World War I coincided with Grindlewald starting his Cult of Suffrage?”  


   “The what?” Ginny said.

 

 Hermione sighed, seeming to accept that she didn’t pay attention in History of Magic. “Grindlewald started his Cult of Suffrage barely a month before the outbreak of World War I. Well, we call it the Cult of Suffrage, but he didn’t call it anything, he just said it was a movement for the greater good. But, anyway, he stirred up trouble in Europe, started killing Muggles all over Europe. He caused an American ship to explode in Cuba, one that had some American Aurors on it. America thought it was the fault of Spanish Wizards, then a whole village of Spanish wizards were slaughtered and it looked like it was the fault of Americans, then Wizards were causing chaos all over Europe, and before they realized it a Russian wizard working for Grindlewald murdered the leaders of Russia’s Wizarding republic and lead to the assassination of the Muggle tzars.”

 

   “Okay,” Ginny said.

 

   “The International Confederation of Wizards branded Grindlewald a radical activist,” Hermione said. “Two years later, Muggle and Wizards were engaged in World War I, twenty years later the Muggles were in World War II because of lasting tensions from World War I and Grindlewald was on the brink of overthrowing almost every Wizarding power in Europe, and even after the end of World War II, there was the Cold War and –”

 

   “You’re saying that we’re going to end up in World War III?” Ginny asked. “Because of Voldemort?”

 

   “I’m saying that we are facing an internal war,” Hermione said. “And it has the chance of becoming something wider.”

 

   “That’s encouraging,” Ginny muttered.

 

   “I’m not very good at being encouraging,” Hermione muttered. “I just… I want you to know that throughout whatever happens, you’ve got me to talk to.”

 

   “That… That actually _is_ encouraging,” Ginny said. “Thanks.”

 

 Hermione patted her knee.

 

   “Shellshock?” Ginny asked.

 

   “What?”

 

   “Why did they call it shellshock?”

 

   “Oh, because, well, because of all the explosions and stuff like that. I don’t remember precisely when it was changed.”

 

 Ginny nodded. The bedroom door opened again and Harry stuck his head in. “You girls coming?”

 

    “Yes,” Hermione said, rising from the trunk. “Right, yes.”

 

 Ginny followed Hermione, her gaze still trailing on the ground. The boys were up and waiting by the door, Seamus as expressionless as Ginny was. At their entrance, Ron opened the door and started out, followed by Neville and Dean. Hermione and Harry moved through the door, but Ginny walked over to Seamus and put her arm around his waist, hugging him gently. Seamus responded by putting his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her briefly.

 

   “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

 

 Seamus shrugged. Ginny swallowed, then pressed a light kiss to his temple.

 

   “I think you’re taller than me now,” she said.

 

   “I’ve always been taller than ya,” Seamus muttered.

 

   “No, I’m certain you were at least an inch shorter last summer,” Ginny said.

 

 A little smile curled Seamus’s lips. “I’m certain you were an inch shorter las’ summer,” he said.

 

   “Tomato, tomahto,” Ginny declared, squeezing his waist again. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”

 

 She dropped her arm, then held the door for him to step out into the hallway. Harry was standing by the door to the stairs, waiting.

 

   “There you are,” he said, pretending as if he hadn’t been able to hear every word they said. “For a moment there I was wondering if you were trying to seduce my wife away from me again, Seamus.”  


   “Nah, I couldn’t do that,” Seamus chuckled. “She’s much too loyal.”

 

 Harry smiled as Seamus moved past him into the stairwell. Ginny pressed a light kiss to Harry’s lips.

 

  _You heard Hermione?_

_I heard Hermione._

   The common room was empty when they exited but for Ron, Neville, Hermione, and Dean waiting at the portrait hole. Ron pushed the portrait open as Harry, Ginny, and Seamus stepped out from the stairwell, stepping through as they approached. Dean set a hand on Seamus’s shoulder as he passed him to step through the portrait hole.

 

 The castle was eerily quiet. Ginny had to wonder as they walked how many students were sat in waiting rooms at St. Mungo’s or still gathered around the atrium at the Ministry. When they reached the Great Hall, they found it empty.

 

   “This is weird,” Ron murmured. They all stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the empty hall. There was food on the tables, but not even the teachers had come down.

 

   “Let’s go to the kitchens,” Harry said. No one protested.

 

   “I’ve never seen it that empty,” Dean said.

 

   “I have,” Seamus mused. “Once, I snuck out around three in the morning. Not even the elves were up.”

 

   “It’s strange,” Hermione said softly.

 

   “It is,” Ginny agreed.

 

 Harry tickled the pear, and its giggle sounding foreign to her just then. They entered the kitchens, finding it bustling with life. It was warmer down there, somehow, and not just in temperature.

 

   “Hello, masters and misses,” said a squeaky-voiced elf. “How may’s I help you?”

 

   “Waffles,” Seamus said.

 

   “You like waffles but not chocolate cake?” Ron asked.

 

   “Don’t judge me,” Seamus muttered, half a smile on his face.

 

   “Of course, sirs,” the elf said, “it will only take a moment.”

 

   “Do you mind if we eat down here?” Harry asked.

 

   “Not at all, sir,” the elf answered, bowing. “Please, feel free to make yourselves comfy.”

 

    “Thank you,” Hermione said to the elf as they left for rows of tables in the back.

 

 Taking seats, Ginny ended up between Harry and Ron, across from Dean and Seamus. Hermione sat on Ron’s other side, Neville taking a seat across from her. Seamus propped his face up on his hand, staring blankly at the table.

 

 Ginny looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye. He glanced back at her. _What?_

_You’re the only one here who’s lost family like this._

_Um. Neville is here?_

_Oh. Right. Okay, you and Neville. I can’t communicate with Neville telepathically._

_I was a baby. I was barely a year old._

Ginny did some fast math. _Fifteen months._

_Does that make it better? I still don’t remember._

 

   “I know you’re all thinking that you don’t know what to do,” Seamus said. Ginny looked up shamefully. “I know you don’t know what to say. It’s okay.”

 

   “What…” Dean started, then seemed to blank. Seamus patted his hand absently, as if he was the one doing the comforting, not the one being comforted.

 

   “What could we say?” Ron asked.

 

   “I don’t know,” Seamus whispered.

 

 An elf appeared, carrying a tray of steaming mugs.

 

   “I is hearing about the trains,” the little elf said somberly. “Yous is looking sad, so I is bringing you hot chocolate.”

 

 Ginny’s heart just melted at the little elf, holding his tray of hot chocolate above his head and looking at them with the biggest doe eyes she’d ever seen. Seamus turned round to face the elf, then, blinking rapidly, took two mugs.

 

  “Thank you,” Seamus murmured.

 

 The elf set the tray on the table. “We is saying old elf prayers for alls of you,” the elf said. “Yous is all in our hearts.”

 

   “Thank you,” Seamus said again, and his voice broke.

 

 The elf reached out and put his arms around Seamus’s waist. “May the mother witch be with yous. All will be well soon.”

 

 Seamus patted the elf’s head, his cheeks wet. Ginny felt her heart breaking a little further.

 

   “I hope so,” Seamus mustered. The elf released him, then, bowing, stepped away. Seamus swiveled back to face the table, then sniffed and wiped at his cheeks. He pushed a mug towards Dean, then raised the remaining one up. Ginny grabbed two mugs, handing one to Harry, and copied Seamus’s raised mug. Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Dean raised their mugs as well.

 

   “To whatever the hell the mother witch is,” Seamus said. “And elves bearing hot chocolate.”

 

   “To mothers,” Harry said. Seamus met his eye and nodded.

 

   “To dads,” Dean answered.

 

   “To family,” Ron said.

 

 They clinked mugs. “To friends,” Seamus added. They all took long gulps.

 

 Two more elves appeared, these bearing plates of waffles floating in midair. “Waffles for the young masters and misses,” said the fatter of the two elves. The plates set themselves on the table. The taller elf bowed to them, and the fatter added in a softer tone: “Yous in our hearts this grievous day.”

 

   “Thank you,” Seamus told them. “We appreciate it.”

 

 The elves walked away again, their heads bowed in somber acknowledgment. The group of them picked up their forks, and collectively hesitated, looking at the waffles before them.

 

   “Mam would make these almost every Saturday during the summer,” Seamus said. “nd when it wasn’t waffles, it was pancakes.”

 

   “My mum used to give me sweets,” Neville murmured. “Every time I did something I was supposed to, she’d reward me with little hard candies or bits of licorice, that sort of thing.”

 

   “I ‘member, my dad used to take me to football matches every month,” Dean said. “It’s the only thing I remember about him.”

 

 Harry tried to think of something about his parents to add, anything from when they were alive. Anything at all, he wracked his brains. He found something in the depths of his memory and latched onto it.

 

   “I remember,” he started, pausing to try and clear up a detail or two, “I think my dad used to conjure bubbles for me to play with.”  


   “Bubbles,” Seamus murmured.

 

   “They flashed different colors.”

 

   “Sounds like you had a happy time as a baby. Up until, y’know…”

 

   “Yeah,” Harry muttered.

 

 Seamus sighed and stabbed his waffle with a fork. “This is a very cheery conversation.”

 

   “It’s a cheery day,” Dean answered him dully.

 

A silence crept over them, broken only by the sound of Ron’s fork clacking on his plate. Everyone looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows, his cheeks bulging. He swallowed and set down the fork, looking disappointed. Seamus laughed and noisily started cutting up his waffle. The sound of forks quickly replaced the quiet as the rest of them caught on, chowing down on their waffles and hot chocolate. The elves bustled about them, magicking dishes and food into their proper places, and when they had finished their food, an elf appeared to take away their plates within seconds.

 

 They got up, as one seemingly, and walked slowly, somberly, from the table to the portrait-covered exit. Dobby waved to them as they left, and Harry just barely managed to wave back. They walked back up to Gryffindor tower in silence, finding just as few people on their way back as they had on the way to the kitchens. The common room was just as empty, and the stairs were just as quiet. Back in Harry and Ginny’s room, the group collapsed onto cushions, staring into space.

 

   “You got a radio?” Seamus asked.

 

 Harry nodded and levitated the radio off the mantle, letting it drop into Seamus’s arms. Seamus switched it on and tuned it, an urgent voice breaking through the static.

 

   _“After what many are calling one of the darkest day in Wizarding history, the Wizengamot passed the Wembley Act of Caution in efforts to prevent illicit uses of magic in the future. Minister Fudge said this afternoon at a press conference: ‘The Wembley Act is the best that we can do right now; requiring all wizards to be fitted with the Trace will make it possible to track and apprehend anyone attempting a terrorist attack such as what was seen yesterday morning.’ The Daily Prophet’s editor Barnabas Cuffe calls this move ‘a major advance in the struggle for pacifism; something that will be remembered in the history books as a triumph in the war against violence.’ Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Pius Thicknesse praised the success of the Wembley Act, stating: ‘This new law will make the jobs of our Aurors and Law Enforcers much easier.’ In other news, the last of the Wizards killed at King’s Cross yesterday have been identified. We have reached out to the families of the victims for comment, a few have offered statements –”_

 

 Harry turned the volume down.

 

   “‘In other news?’” Ron spluttered. “No mention of how it’s completely barmy?”

 

   “I was afraid of this,” Hermione breathed. “The _Prophet_ ’s in the Minister’s pocket, isn’t it? It’s not telling the bad things now that the act was passed.”  


   “Why’s it not telling the bad things?” Ron demanded. “There’s plenty to report!”

 

   “I’ll bet that Fudge or Malfoy or even both are paying Cuffe to keep it quiet,” Hermione answered darkly.

 

   “That’s just wrong,” Neville said, shaking his head. “There are only a few Wizarding news outlets that people trust, and the _Prophet_ ’s easily the biggest.”

 

   “That’s why, though,” Hermione sighed. “If the people are fed nothing but one opinion, the people won’t bother to listen to other opinions.”  


   “I’m glad I don’t buy their bloody paper,” Seamus growled. “I’ve half a mind to hex Malfoy into a coma as it is.”

 

   “Do us all a favor,” Harry replied. “I’ve half a mind to join you.”

 

   “You’d just get yourself suspended, the way you’d been carrying on,” Seamus muttered.

 

   “I’d be sneaky, then,” Harry decided. “Slip something into his morning pumpkin juice. No one’d ever know it was me.”

 

   “Good luck with that,” Ginny told him.

 

   “It’s Malfoy, Senior, that’s the problem though,” Hermione said.

 

   “We could mail him a pipe bomb,” said Harry. “Worked well enough for the Unabomber.”

 

   “The what now?” asked Ron.

 

   “Never mind,” Harry muttered.

 

   “I think that would count as murder,” Hermione told Harry, ignoring Ron’s question.

 

   “That’s not the point,” Harry sighed, dropping his forehead onto Ginny’s shoulder. Ginny patted his knee.

 

   “I think a pipe bomb would do nicely,” Seamus said. “Tick, tick, tick, boom! I’ll make it.”

 

   “You’re not actually going to kill Lucius Malfoy with a letter bomb,” Dean told his friend.

 

   “Why not?” Seamus asked, sounding a bit too serious for a discussion of letter bombs. “He’s practically killing us, if You-Know-Who’s really back.”

 

   “He is back,” Ginny said. “We saw him.”

 

 Seamus said nothing for a second, then his lips dropped into a frown. “But, hang on… Harry saw him?”

 

   “I saw him too,” Ginny answered, words spilling from her mouth, “he used the Cruciatus on me in front of Harry before he dueled Harry.”

 

 Seamus opened his mouth, closed it, and paled. No one said anything, the radio crackled quietly. Then:

 

   “This is real, isn’t it?”

 

 Neville was staring at the radio, his face pale. He looked up, to find them all staring at him. “This,” he repeated. “It’s really happening.”

 

 Harry nodded, and nothing further was said. Neville looked down at the radio again, and after a moment, he reached forward and turned up the volume.

 

   _“Tell us, Mr. Malfoy, what inspired you to write the Wembley Act?”_

_“It was the children, really. I knew some of the people killed; James Wembley was my personal apothecarist, I’d met his daughter at his shop several times. It just made me think, what if it had been my child and my wife at the station that morning? What if it had been them, and there was no way for anyone to realize what was happening until after the fact? Less than an hour later, I had a draft of the bill written, and I presented it to the Wizengamot that afternoon.”_

_“What would you have done if it had been your wife and son at the station yesterday? If your family had been among the dead?”_

_“I wouldn’t have stopped to write a bill. I would have gone straight for the terrorists who started this.”_

   “This is really happening,” Neville whispered, more than a touch of despair in his voice.

 

   “It is,” Harry answered.

 


	59. Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

**Chapter Fifty-** **Nine**

**Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire**

**Harry**

 

That night, the school gathered in the Great Hall. There was, for once, total silence, not even murmurings, as the students took their seats for a meal no one really felt like eating. It felt like someone had cast a charm across the entire hall, all movements muffled, all intakes of breath hushed, not a soul able to disturb the silence. Harry took his seat between Ginny and Ron, taking careful notice of all the absences in the table. Alicia and Lee had returned, the two of them sitting down the table with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Anna Williams was a few seats down from Harry, sitting with a few other fourth years and picking at her food. She'd brought her young brother with her; he was sitting on her lap, sleeping as she pretended to eat. Ginny had spotted Colin before Harry, and had motioned to him and Denis to come sit with them; they both had puffy eyes and pale lips. Hermione tried to get them to eat, but Denis wouldn't touch a thing and Colin barely picked at his plate of chicken and corn. The two Patil twins were still absent, Harry guessed, as Lavender Brown had sat down across from them and next to Seamus, immediately burying her face in his shirt. Seamus had hugged her silently as she started to cry quietly again.

There were other absences. As Harry surveyed the hall, there were a couple of faces he failed to find; his gut clenched in fear, wondering if they were mourning or being mourned. At the Hufflepuff table, no one sat alone, the table scattered with people quietly crying and barely anyone eating. He didn't spot Susan Bones or Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbot were gone too. At the Ravenclaw table, students sat in stoic silence. Terry Boot, he saw, was gone. When he surveyed the Slytherin table, he noticed instantly that Malfoy was gone. He was the only Slytherin absent, Harry realized. As none of Malfoy's family had been killed or even hurt, Harry guessed, with clenching fists, that enough of the Slytherin students had families who'd been warned or left alone.

The meal vanished from the table, and Dumbledore rose from his chair. There was no need to call for silence, as no one was speaking. All looked expectantly at the Headmaster, but for a moment, Dumbledore didn't even speak. He spread his hands, his face turned downward, and he sighed.

"I need to make no announcement to inform you of what happened," Dumbledore said. "You know. Many of you know all too well. It is with the deepest regret that I ask you to observe a moment of silence in remembrance of those we lost. There were students at Kings' Cross, and while some only lost family, there were some that lost their lives."

Dumbledore fell silent, his hands coming together to grip each other, and yet the Headmaster still did not look at them.

"I would ask you to, therefore, listen as we remember the students we lost."

Harry clenched his jaw.

"Sally-Anne Perks," Dumbledore said gravely. "A fifth-year, who was killed rescuing a child. The child lived, making her a hero. Isabella Lynch, who succumbed to her injuries before Aurors could arrive on scene. Justin Finch-Fletchley, who died in the arms of his mother. Roger Davies, killed only a few months before his graduation. Eddie Carmichael, who was struck down in the first few moments of the attack. Susan Bones, who died from a curse to the back. Terry Boot, who passed away from his injuries at St. Mungo's.  A moment, please, of silence."

They obliged, and this time the silence was permeated by a universal aura of grief.

"Many more students saw family members perish as well," Dumbledore said after a moment. "Priscilla Abbot and her young son Richard died in St. Mungo's earlier this morning, they are survived by Gregory and Hannah Abbot. Terresa and Marcus Brown were killed as they tried to flee, they are survived by their daughter, Lavender. Li Chang died attempting to protect others at the station, he is survived by his wife and daughter. Colin Creevey senior was struck down by the first wave of curses. He is survived by his two sons, his wife, and infant daughter. Rachel Hollins died protecting her daughter, Catherine, who unfortunately passed away in St. Mungo's. Rachel's older daughter, Sarah, survived the attack. Simon Jordan died en route to St. Mungo's; he is survived by his wife and son. Edward MacMillan died saving his wife; he is survived by his wife, who is expected to make a full recovery, and by his son. Vernon Dursley was killed by a curse to the face."

Harry didn't react for a full five seconds. Dumbledore continued to speak: "He is survived by his wife, his son, and his nephew." Harry blinked, looking at Dumbledore with a blank face. His uncle was dead. His uncle had been murdered by Death Eaters.

"Regina Spinnet died due to her injuries, but saved a group of school children. She is survived by…"

_Harry? Harry, are you okay?_

_I… I had no clue…_

_Harry?_

_Why… Why was he even at the station? Why was he there?_

_I – I don't know._

_Uncle Vernon… God…_

_I don't know if I should be sorry… he was horrible to you._

_He was horrible to all of us. Dumbledore said his wife, not his ex-wife?_

_I think you should talk to your aunt._

"Timothy and Elizabeth Williams were killed as they tried to flee. They are survived by their daughter and son."

 _I don't know if I_ should _be sorry._

_It's okay if you don't feel bad, love. The man was a beast._

_Still…_

Ginny gripped Harry's hand tightly. Harry pulled his gaze away from Dumbledore, who was still talking, and realized that his friends were all staring at him.

"Dursley?" Ron whispered. "As in Petunia Dursley? Your aunt?"

Harry nodded stiffly. "I didn't… I wasn't told."

"This is fucked up," Seamus murmured.

"These brave souls were taken long before their time," Dumbledore announced. "Many of them left behind children, some were children. Their families deserve to know what truly happened."

Harry lifted his gaze again. Dumbledore was looking out at them all with a guarded expression.

"I am sure," the Headmaster began, "that you will hear different versions from other… other sources. But this is the truth, and though many will and have already denied it, that changes nothing."

Harry heard a faint whispering behind him, confusion and curiosity prompting tongues to wag. Why shouldn't they, of course. They were about to hear a truth no one else admitted.

"In June of this year, in the final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, something unplanned happened. Ludo Bagman, Aurora Sinestra, and a man posing as Barty Crouch senior enchanted the trophy into a Portkey. The first to touch it would be transported to a graveyard in the country. Aurora Sinestra volunteered to patrol the maze, but instead of rescuing champions, she made sure that no one reached the trophy but one specific person. In this process, she murdered Cedric Diggory."

Then came full blown talking; there were gasps, hisses of denial, whispers, _"what?"_

"She dueled with Viktor Krum and cursed off his arm. She then dueled with Harry Potter."

Harry realized that his gaze had slipped, fallen down to the floor at Dumbledore's feet rather than his face. He couldn't bring himself to lift it again.

"You see, Bagman, Sinestra, the imposter, they all had one goal that they had been working towards since the very start of the Tournament. There are only meant to be three champions, but this time, there were four."

Dumbledore paused, giving the Hall a long look as he seemed to think, pondering his next words.

"It was no coincidence that Harry Potter was chosen as a fourth champion," said Dumbledore in a carrying voice, a voice that made the whisperings fade away. "Sinestra, Bagman, and the imposter were working for a man the Wizarding World had considered dead for the past decade. Sinestra had found a way to create a new body for him, but to do that, they needed blood from his greatest enemy."

Harry felt eyes on him. The entire Hall was looking at him, Dumbledore included.

"In June of this past year, Lord Voldemort was resurrected," Dumbledore declared. "Weak, yes, but alive, with a body of his own. I told all this to the Minister, and he chose to ignore it; he refused to believe that it could be true. The attack yesterday was no new group, it was not the work of a fresh set of terrorists. It was the doing of Voldemort."

Harry expected the Hall to burst into noise again, but at this, they were still silent.

"Yesterday, the Wizengamot passed a new bill, forbidding the use of magic by any wizard for any reason in front of a Muggle or in a Muggle area by the placing of a modified Trace on all wands. This bill was written by a former Death Eater, and it, like Harry Potter's presence as the fourth champion, is no coincidence. Minister Fudge continues to refuse to accept the truth, preferring to call this the work of radicals, not that of Death Eaters, but the truth must be told."

Dumbledore felt quiet again, his face dropping and his hands unfolding, falling to his side.

"Even now, I am sure that the Minister is preparing excuses as to how I am lying to you," Dumbledore said, his voice soft but somehow still carrying. "There will be many who refuse to believe as Fudge is doing. But know this: Voldemort is alive, and he will not stop at attacking train stations."

There were still eyes on Harry as Dumbledore finished speaking. Ginny's hand still gripped his tightly.

"For now, we shall mourn. There will be free transportation to the Ministry of Magic and to St. Mungo's for those who need it. We shall mourn, but we shall not be complacent. There will be no classes until the 15th, but starting then, all students will be taught the Patronus Charm. Fifth years and above will be learning additional healing magic from Professors Flitwick and Snape. All students will be required to take extra lessons in dueling and non-magical methods of protection. With this new law in place, it is imperative that you know how to defend yourself without using your wand."

Dumbledore stopped speaking. His face was turned towards the Ravenclaw table, his brow furrowed. Harry turned around and saw a student's hand in the air. The student rose to their feet, and Harry recognized Cho Chang.

"Professor," Cho said, her voice trembling but loud. "With all due respect, how can you expect us to believe a word of what you are saying now? Why did you say nothing in June?"

Dumbledore seemed to hesitate. The whisperings took up again, Harry caught snippets, _"she's right, why didn't he say anything before?"_

"Why are you only revealing this so-called truth now, now that dozens of people are dead or injured? Why did you not tell us in June when Cedric first died?"

"Miss Chang, you must understand that this is the start of a new war. In June, Voldemort was weak and without followers. Sinestra and her brother, two of his only devout followers, were captured and sent to Azkaban in September. At the time, his weakness meant he was able to do nothing but lie low, and I made the choice to say nothing to the public because of that. While I disagree with the Minister on many things, I agreed with him in that starting hysteria would do no one good."

"So, you admit then that this will start hysteria?" Cho asked, her voice rising. "Hysteria that will be opposed to the changes being made in the Wizengamot now?"

"The changes being made are in no one's interest but Voldemort's," Dumbledore said. "Lucius Malfoy was acquitted by the skin of his teeth after Voldemort's disappearance in 1981, but he is still a former Death Eater – a current Death Eater, in fact."

"Professor, I think the real question we should be asking is not why Mr. Malfoy pushed this law through," Cho continued. "It's why you are declaring it to be for the benefit of a dead man."

"Voldemort is not dead," Dumbledore repeated. "You may believe that he is, but he is alive."

"VOLDEMORT IS DEAD!" Cho screamed suddenly. "And so is my father! You are trying to stir up hysteria because you didn't want the law to be passed, but that law is going to save lives! You cannot force your fear-mongering on us!"

"I am forcing nothing on anyone," Dumbledore said.

"Does anyone else find it hard to accept this _truth_?" Cho spat, encasing the word _truth_ in air quotes. "Does anyone else find it strange that he says this only now, after the Wembley Act has been passed?"

Cho looked around, her face pale as she darted her gaze around the silent hall. Harry's fists were shaking.

"This is nothing but the rambling of an old man!" Cho declared. "He wants to fill our heads with nonsense so we'll think the way he wants us to! Voldemort is dead."

"He's alive," Harry said.

Cho fell silent, her lips parted slightly. Harry did not rise from his seat. He did not look around. He stared at the stone floor, his hands clenched in fists in efforts to keep them still.

"I swore in front of the Wizengamot that I was telling the truth," he called out. "Voldemort used evil, evil magic; he used my blood to resurrect himself. I watched him come back. I _saw_ him. He summoned followers that weren't in Azkaban, he used the Cruciatus on me in front of them, he tried to kill me. I escaped only because of Dumbledore."

He inhaled, a shaky breath that made his lungs rattle. Cho didn't say anything in reply. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, still staring at the ground. He licked at his lips, then looked up at her.

"I swear," he said. "I swear on my own parent's graves that Voldemort is alive, that he did this. I am not lying to you."

Cho said nothing.

No one said anything. They all just stared at him, each face blank. Cho slowly slipped back into her seat, her face hardening. Harry looked around and saw the faces around him turning away, quiet people pressing their lips into thin lines, they said nothing but he could practically hear the thoughts turning over in their heads. He turned on the spot, looking for someone that believed him. Anna Williams's little brother was staring at him with his thumb in his mouth. The little boy was crying noiselessly.

Ginny gripped his hand. Harry looked down at the table, then up at those around him. Seamus was staring at the table. Ron, Hermione, and Neville were looking at each other, but not him. Ginny was staring at her plate.

_Sit down, love._

Harry did not sit. He lifted his head, his jaw clenching, and gave the room a long look.

"Lucius Malfoy was there that night," he said. "He gave Voldemort his defense as to why he wasn't in Azkaban. Bagman, you all remember Bagman. He tried to trick Dumbledore, Professor Moody, Remus and Sirius, and Ginny too; he tried to trick them so they wouldn't find me, but it backfired on him, so instead, he took Ginny and brought her to the graveyard. Told Voldemort it was because I, being weak and in love with her, would do anything to keep her safe; not even Voldemort believed him on that, he took her because he was a creep. Professor Sinestra laughed when she killed Diggory, laughed when she cut off Krum's arm. She and her brother, you see, they'd been trying to bring Voldemort back for years, but they'd found this book a couple of years ago, they forced someone to translate it and fulfill the ritual to bring back Voldemort. And Barty Crouch was killed by his son, who he broke out of Azkaban fourteen years ago."

Harry gave the Hall another long look, then dropped his gaze on Malfoy's head, downturned to stare at the table. "I'll bet that the Wembley Act was drafted for the first time at least a month ago, when Voldemort told Malfoy that he was going to attack the station."

There was a loud scraping of wood on stone; Malfoy pushed back his bench and rose to his feet. Harry waited, ready for him to spit back an insult in response to Harry's claims, but Malfoy didn't look at him. Malfoy said nothing. He stepped away from the bench, and started to walk down the hall, his chin held up, his back straight. Harry watched him, his teeth gritting, as Malfoy walked towards the doors, saying nothing all the while.

Then, at the doors, Malfoy paused. He turned back and met Harry's irate gaze.

"These lies are a new low for you, Potter," he said coldly, and left.

"SIT DOWN, POTTER!" "STOP TRYING TO INSERT YOURSELF!" "YOU'RE A FILTHY LIAR, AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!" "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING!" _"YOU-KNOW-WHO IS NOT BACK!"_

Harry dropped back into his seat as the shouting escalated. Anna Williams's little brother was wailing, there were students from other houses jumping up to scream at him, Dumbledore was shouting for order. Abruptly, Harry felt something rap the top of his head; a cold sensation trickled down his back. He looked up, confused.

"Disillusionment charm!" Hermione said just loudly enough to be heard. "Get out of here!"

Harry jumped off the bench, pulling Ginny up with him.

"ATTENTION SEEKER!" "YOU NEEDY LITTLE FUCKER!" "YOU'RE BEING SHITTER THAN DUMBLEDORE RIGHT NOW, POTTER!" "HOW DARE YOU!" "DUMBLEDORE IS A FUCKING LIAR!" "LIAR!" "LIAR!" _"LIAR!"_

Harry skidded to a halt outside the doors of the Great Hall; Ginny ran into him.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny looked around wildly, 'til Harry grabbed her chin and angled her face towards him. "This is weird."

"I can't just run away," Harry said.

Ginny immediately glared; her eyes drifted to a point slightly to the left of him. He cupped her face in both hands so she would look at him straight on. "Stop that; look, you _can_ just run away. They're probably conjuring pitchforks and torches by now!"

"But –"

"This is on Dumbledore!" Ginny insisted. "He stood up and told everyone everything of his own accord, without asking you; it is a bit unbelievable that he kept it from them for six months, Harry! He's gone and dumped his mess on your head!"

"He hasn't –"

"Ginny, what are you doing?" came Ron's demanding voice. Ron skidded to a halt next to them, almost knocking into Harry. "Where's –"

"There, ish," Ginny answered, pointing in front of her; she jabbed forward and caught Harry in the chest. "There."

Ron looked at a spot just over Harry's shoulder. "Why are you just standing there?"

"Because he's being heroic and an idiot again," Ginny snapped. "He's thinking about trying to brave the mob."

"Alright, where are you?" Ron asked, reaching out. He accidentally cuffed Harry in the shoulder; "Sorry," he said when Harry gave a small yelp. "You've got to get out of here, Dumbledore's having a right time trying to get them to quiet down himself. They're all shouting about Dumbledore pushing politics into the school."

"I heard them!" Harry snapped. "Look, if I just –"

"You already swore to them!" Ginny said. "If they don't believe you, that's their fault!"

"But –"

Ron grabbed Harry's arm; Harry dropped Ginny's face in reflex, but then Ron grabbed him by the other arm. "Ah, got you!"

"What?" Harry said, then Ron bent and grabbed Harry round the waist. "Hey!"

Ron pulled Harry onto his shoulders like he was a child and Ron was a fireman, rescuing him from a burning building. Ron let out a grunt and gave Harry's arm a yank, pulling him over his shoulders evenly. "Merlin, Harry, you're heavier than you look!"

"Careful!" Ginny warned, then said something else, but it was drowned by a sudden burst of noise from the Great Hall as the doors banged open, a flood of irate students spilling out. Ginny gave Ron a push to the back, shouting: "Let's go!"

Ron gave another grunt and started shuffling quickly for the stairs. Harry, very glad that he was invisible at that moment, wriggled on his friend's shoulders: "Put me down, I can walk!"

"Don't put him down, he'll do something stupid!"

"I'm not an idiot, Ginny!"

"Hey! No having a domestic while I'm carrying you up stairs!" Ron shouted. At the first landing, however, he bent and dropped Harry onto his feet. "You're too heavy," his friend panted, pointing an accusing finger off to Harry's left. "Do not do something stupid."

Harry yanked his shirt down indignantly, glaring at Ron, however, he was invisible, so Ron couldn't see that. Instead, he smacked his arm.

"Ow!" Ron yelped, jumping away. "Bloody hell, Harry!"

"Don't do that again," he grumbled. Ginny let out an exasperated growl and groped in the air for him.

"POTTER! WHERE ARE YOU!" "I'LL SHOW YOU YOU-KNOW-WHO, ASSHOLE!" "YOU THINK THIS A JOKE?" "IS ALL THIS SHIT WORTH IT?" "YOU'RE A LIAR!" "LIARS!" "YOU'RE LYING!" "LIAR!"

Ginny snatched Harry's arm and gave it a pleading tug. "Please, they're not going to listen to you, they're just going to keep screaming; let Dumbledore handle this!"

"But –"

"Harry, _please_!"

Ginny's eyes were on his forehead, but her gaze was convincing. He nodded, silently and telepathically acquiescing. Ginny grabbed his hand and started up the stairs. Ron followed behind them, still huffing from having carried Harry halfway up the marble staircase.

At the first floor landing, there was a sudden, echoing boom; the three of them froze.

" _ALL STUDENTS WILL CEASE AND DESIST THEIR ACTIONS AND RETURN TO THEIR COMMON ROOMS!_ "

It was Dumbledore's voice, amplified to echo throughout the castle.

" _YOU HAVE TWENTY MINUTES TO RETURN TO YOUR COMMON ROOMS. ANY STUDENT FOUND OUTSIDE THEIR RESPECTIVE COMMON ROOMS PAST THIS TIME WILL BE GIVEN DETENTION. ANY STUDENT FOUND HARASSING OTHER STUDENTS WILL BE GIVEN DETENTION AND STRIPPED OF PRIVILEGES._ "

Ron looked at Ginny. "Well, at least we don't have to worry as much now."

Ginny started back up the stairs. "Come on," she said.

"Can I stop being invisible?" Harry asked. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students had started up the stairs, and despite the fact that they were nearing the second floor, he didn't like being hidden from view.

"I don't know the reverse of a Disillusionment charm," Ginny told him.

"Neither do I," Ron said. "I think it's a sixth-year spell. You'll have to wait for Hermione to cast the counter-charm."

"Doesn't Finite Incantatem work?"

Ginny pulled out her wand and jabbed Harry in the arm; " _Finite Incantatem!_ "

Nothing happened. Harry gave a huff.

"See, you'll have to wait for Hermione," Ginny said, grabbing his arm again. "Come on."

At the third floor landing, part of the pack of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws heading up to their dorms overtook them. Though Harry was invisible to their passing glances, many of the students looked over at Ron and Ginny with looks of anger and distrust.

 _Why are they looking at you like that?_ Harry grumbled in his head, wishing he could jump down each and every one of their throats and wring their necks until they got it through their thick skulls that he wasn't lying.

 _Probably because we're friends with you,_ Ginny answered. _I imagine we're going to get a lot of that in the next few weeks until this blows over._

_That's optimistic of you to think._

_What, that it's going to be over in a few weeks?_

_No, that you lot are going to become pariahs by association._

_Ah._

At that moment, Hermione came running up behind them; she grabbed Ron's arm to steady herself as she heaved a deep breath, apparently having run all the way up the stairs.

"Where's – Harry?" she muttered between breaths.

"Here," Ron said in a hushed tone. "Y'know, I feel like one of those bodyguards that get paid to escort people like the Weird Sisters around all the time, so they don't get swamped by paparazzi."

The utter absurdity of the situation hit Harry with Ron's comment. He scowled, hating being compared to media darlings.

"Let's just get up to their room and then we can discuss this," Hermione said, inhaling deeply as she finished the sentence. "We need a bloody elevator in this place."

"It'd be nice," Harry mumbled. Hermione jumped slightly, looking around.

"Oh, you're _here_ here," she said, then reached out and groped through the air until her hand landed on Harry's hair. "Oh, sorry."

Harry grumpily mussed his hair, scowling at air and wishing they did, in fact, _have_ an elevator so Hermione could take the Disillusionment charm off him and he could scowl at _them_.

_Don't scowl at us, we didn't ask Dumbledore to stand up and tell everyone he'd been withholding information._

_Ginny, can you stop hating on Dumbledore for two seconds?_

_Why, so you can ram your head further up his ass?_

Harry stopped in the middle of the corridor and gaped at her. However, she'd dropped his arm earlier and therefore didn't notice when he stopped moving; none of them did.

"Hey!" he shouted.

Everyone paused in their walking; Ron, Ginny, and Hermione froze, looking around guiltily. Ginny briefly shut her eyes, then stepped forward and casually bumped into Harry to find him. Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her into a classroom on their right; Ginny let out a tiny yelp of surprise.

"What?" Ginny hissed; Harry shut the door and locked it with a wave of his hand. Ginny's eyes widened at the wandless magic, but Harry barely noticed. He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his eyes on his wife's, whose gaze was still fixed on the door.

"I'm over here!" he snapped, and Ginny flicked her eyes to a point over to his right. Harry let out a growl of frustration, now hating Hermione for making him invisible, and strode forward, placing both hands on her shoulder. "I am directly in front of you."

"I noticed," Ginny said, her eyebrows raised.

"Wait, what?" Harry looked down. The Disillusionment charm had faded. "Never mind, listen!"

"To what?" Ginny challenged. "More _I'm supposed to be the hero and listen to my elders and do what I'm told_ bullshit?"

"No!" Harry let out a sound that was both sigh and sob. "To _I have no clue what the hell I'm doing but Dumbledore does so I want to let him be in charge!_ "

"Does he, though?" Ginny asked. "Why did he announce in the middle of dinner that he'd been holding back vital information and then point the finger of the only witness at you?"

"Because I am the only witness!" Harry reminded her.

"I was there too!" she shouted.

In the silence, as she glared and he breathed, there was a comically loud creaking of door hinges behind them. Harry turned around, to see Ron and Hermione peering through the doorway with wide eyes.

"I told you, they're having a domestic," Ron said to Hermione.

"Shush, Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"Do you two mind?" Harry asked angrily.

"Yes," Hermione said, ducking under Ron's arm and striding in. "We very much mind."

"Don't you drag me into this," Ron insisted.

"The both of you are behaving irrationally," Hermione said, ignoring Ron. "You're snapping at each other and getting angry for no reason. You need to be calm."

"I am fucking calm!" Harry shouted.

Hermione barely blinked. "Exhibit A," she said.

Harry gaped at her now, half panting from stress and half unable to breathe from a lack of understanding of what was even going on. Hermione stared back at him, her face impassive.

"What would you suggest?" Harry asked her through gritted teeth.

"We go see Dumbledore," she said coolly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows again. "That actually sounds like a good plan."

"He's told us to go to our dorms," Harry said coldly; not calmly, as Hermione was, but coldly, in rejection of her words and an unwillingness to get off his soap box.

An observation interjected by Ginny, Harry noticed, and he looked at her with equally cold eyes. Her lips thinned into a firm line, and he was reminded vividly of Professor McGonagall.

"I'm sure that Dumbledore will make an exception for you, Harry," Hermione said. "Or, that he'll make the exception because he's calling an emergency Order meeting and I'm pretty certain that you and Ginny are members."

Harry inhaled, then exhaled, then let his shoulders drop. "Fine," he said. "Fine."

Hermione gave a firm nod, then drew her wand again. "Now, would you like me to put the Disillusionment charm back on you?"

Harry wished she wouldn't have to, but, after a glance to the fogged glass window where hordes of students were still trudging up the stairs, nodded. Hermione once again rapped her wand over the top of his head and he felt the distinctively uncomfortable sensation of an egg being cracked on the top of his skull. He gave a slight shudder.

"Come on, then," Ginny said, reaching forward with her hand. Harry took it.

In the walk up to Dumbledore's office, they were quiet. Harry listened with increasingly bristling anger as the students passing them made comments on the evening's events.

"I mean, honestly, what the fuck?" "Why would anyone do this, especially right after people've been killed!" "I'm transferring to Beauxbatons after this year, I swear I am, I can't handle Dumbledore's lunacy anymore!" "The _Prophet_ was right, Dumbledore's gone round the bend."

 _What did the_ Prophet _say?_ Harry mentally groaned. He'd have to obtain a copy of the paper as soon as possible.

They left the flood of students at the fourth floor, where the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws diverged to the East and West towers and the group of four started down the long corridor to the Headmaster's office. At the two gargoyles, Harry gave the password, and they leapt aside.

"Wicked," Ron said, smiling at the gargoyles.

As the wall behind them sealed, Hermione turned back to Harry and tapped his head with her wand again. "There," she said. "Visible."

"Thanks," Harry muttered. Ginny loosened her grip on his hand and, after a second, Harry dropped it. She let her gaze flick to the ground.

They climbed the spiral staircase, Harry in front and Ron bringing up the rear, until they reached the heavy oak doors and the eagle knockers. Harry took one and rapped it sharply.

"Enter," came a voice, but it wasn't the Headmaster's.

Harry pulled open the door and entered, finding the room empty. He frowned, wondering who had answered them.

"They're upstairs," said an abrupt voice. Harry jumped, looking around. "I'm over here." Harry looked up, to see a painting looking down at him crossly over a pair of spectacles. It was one of the previous Headmasters, Armando Dippet.

"They're waiting for you," Dippet said, jerking his head towards the upper levels of the office. "Go on."

Harry gave a nod, a little confused, but willing to follow the directions. He glanced behind him at the others, then started up the short staircase to the bookshelves and the open doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _cliffhanger, ooh, this is not a satisfying ending at all and i’m sorry but i wanted to give you guys this update as soon as possible. by the time the next chapter’s posted, i’ll have finished my last exam and will be free of school for the summer, so chapters will be getting longer again around then. also, wish me luck on these exams, and luck to anyone else who has exams._


	60. Gray Skies Will Give Way to Sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i know it’s been ages since i posted last and you have every right to draw and quarter me, tho if you did that, i’d never update again… so maybe don’t kill me? ily? forgive me please? blame writer’s block? enjoy some rainbows? bc it’s june? just read the chapter, you’ll find out._

**_Chapter Sixty_ **

**_Gray Skies Will Give Way to Sunlight_ **

**_Harry_ **

“Harry, quickly, come in.”

Dumbledore was at the other end of the room, a room already filled to bursting with people Harry did not even know; half of them he recognized from the previous Order meeting, the other half were ambiguous. Dumbledore did not react to Ron and Hermione’s presence behind him, so either he didn’t care or hadn’t noticed at all. Dumbledore grabbed Harry’s shoulder as soon as he was within arms’ length and steered him in front of the table.

  “The students have reacted as I expected,” Dumbledore said. Harry looked at him, a little confused. “I anticipate they will be angry for quite some time, but as long as they comply with the new schedules, I will allow them their outrage.”

  “What do you plan to do if they refuse?” asked a man not far from them.

  “I will refuse their refusal,” Dumbledore said simply. “If I must become the proverbial villain to protect those under my charge, I will do so.”

    “The Board of Governors, though,” someone asked. “What if they refuse your refusal of their refusals?”

That was too many refusals; Harry was getting even more confused.

  “I feel it fair to say a majority of the school governors are on my side,” Dumbledore answered. “In this area, we are at the advantage.”

  “We should discuss how we will handle the students’ reaction to Harry’s testimony,” said Professor McGonagall. “Miss Granger’s quick thinking earlier, while effective, will not be appropriate for everyday usage.”

  “I am hoping the threat of privilege loss will dissuade anyone from harassing Harry, but if need be, we will put him in private lessons until the situation calms.”

  “I don’t want to be put in private lessons,” Harry said bristly.

  “Harry, please recognize that you are no good to use running constantly from your own peers,” Dumbledore said, sighing. “This is not a fight you must participate in.”

_ I told you. _

Harry tried not to shoot a glare over his shoulder at Ginny. She could tell he was irritated with her again, and he could tell that she didn’t care.

  “The evening _ Prophet _ has already been released, and as I expected, not one of us is given a good light.”

Then Dumbledore pulled a copy of the paper from his robes and set it on the table before him and Harry saw his own face glaring up at him; his jaw clenched, his eyes wild and mad, his brows knitted together, even his hair was a disaster adding to the air of hostility. He felt his heart drop at the headline,  _ POTTER, UNSTABLE AS HIS LIFE _ .

  “I had hoped they would have more respect for the dead, but not even Madam Bones escaped scrutiny,” Dumbledore kept speaking. “The Wembley Act is being portrayed as a saving grace and us as angry rebels.”

  “We shall press on,” Professor McGonagall said stiffly. “We do not need to coddle them until they feel better.”

  “Thank you, Minerva,” Dumbledore said, nodding to her. “This is of the utmost importance; we press on, no matter what our actions are painted to be. We are at war.”

Harry’s gaze dropped down to the paper again, watching camera flashes give his eyes a manic light. He hardly recognized himself in the photograph.

  “That is all for now,” Dumbledore said, jerking Harry’s attention up again. “Keep on your guard, warn as many as you can but do not risk your positions. Kingsley, I’d like you to stay a while longer to speak with me. Minerva, start drawing up schedules for the extra lessons. The rest of you may leave.”

Chairs scraped against the stone floor as the room full of people rose and made their way down to the fireplace. Dumbledore quickly moved away from Harry to approach a tall black man further down the table, and Harry just stood there, looking awkward and unsure, wondering if he was meant to leave too.

Sirius walked up to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. “You and Ginny are staying in our quarters tonight,” his godfather said in a hushed voice. “I don’t want you having to deal with this mess any more than necessary.”

Harry only nodded; he was grateful, even if he felt guilty about hiding. He looked at Dumbledore again, but the Headmaster was focused on the person he was talking with. He nodded again, letting Sirius steer him away. Ginny slipped her hand in his and, even though she was still mad at him and he at her, she squeezed his hand. Remus joined them on the stairs, saying something quietly to Sirius that Harry didn’t catch; Sirius just nodded and they kept walking. They left the office, Ron and Hermione turned right as they turned left, and at the door to their quarters, Ginny dropped Harry’s hand. She went into the spare bedroom without a word, and Harry’s shoulders drooped.

  “It’ll be alright,” Sirius murmured to Harry. “You’ll patch up.”

  “Tea?” Remus said; ever the Englishman, Remus started making tea before they could answer, but it wasn’t necessary, of course, they wanted tea. Harry dropped onto the sofa and hung his head in his hands, while Sirius sat across from him in the armchair.

  “You want to talk about it?” Sirius asked him. “I can help.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Harry admitted quietly.

  “Of course, you don’t,” Sirius said to him, “you’re fifteen, you’re s’posed to be focused on OWL’s and sex, not acts of war and terrorism.”

Harry nodded. Remus set a cup of tea in front of him and he picked it up, taking a cautious sip from it. He liked it better when Ginny made it.

  “Was it like this?” he asked eventually. “Before – Last time.”

  “Yes,” Sirius said hesitantly, “and no. There were… fewer opponents, I think. Voldemort was bolder, or maybe he was just more open, but there wasn’t doubt about his presence.”

Harry set down his tea and rubbed at his face with a hand. He wished Sirius was right, that his biggest stress were OWL’s, but exams would be a blessing compared to the mess he’d landed in

  “I’d like to read what the  _ Prophet _ ’s said,” he murmured a moment later. “Have you got a copy?”

Sirius and Remus exchanged glances, then Remus nodded. He walked into his bedroom and came back a minute later with the newspaper in hand.

  “Just, remember, please,” Remus said before he handed it to Harry, “that their whole goal is to discredit Dumbledore and you and anyone who thinks you’re telling the truth.”

Harry unfolded the paper and found the top of the article.

_ POTTER, UNSTABLE AS HIS LIFE. In the aftermath of yesterday’s terrorist attack on King’s Cross Station and during the back and forth proceedings of the Wizengamot over the implementation of the Wembley Act of Caution, Harry Potter spoke up in protest of the Wembley Act. Harry Potter, who lost his only family to needless magical violence in a Muggle village 14 years ago this Halloween, seems to be the sort of person who would champion the breakthrough of the Wembley Act, however, his speech before the Wembley Act was voted in was anything but celebratory. Rather, Potter claimed that the attack upon the train station was planned and executed by the long dead He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Furthering his outrageous claim, Potter accused Sir Lucius Malfoy of foreknowledge of the terrorist attack and of writing the Wembley Act for the benefit of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. These outlandish claims, however, are understandable when one considers the stress that Potter has been under since August when he was forced into marriage by – _

Harry stopped reading. He folded the paper again, then balled it up and threw it as hard as he could towards the fireplace, where it landed in the hearth and began to smolder. Remus sat down next to Harry and set a hand on his shoulder, but Harry got to his feet and started pacing.

  “They’re blaming Ginny?” he demanded. “What the hell! Why are they doing this?”

  “They want people to think you’ve gone round the bend!” Remus said. “On the next page, they go in depth on Dumbledore’s dementia and follow it up with Madam Bones’s expressing her grief over her niece’s death in unhealthy ways!”

  “What more can they accuse us of?” Harry said, hardly listening anymore. “This is insane! They’ve been attacking Ginny ever since it came out that we got married; it’s driving her insane! Is it so hard to believe that Voldemort is alive that they’d rather paint me and Ginny as hormonal and idiot teenagers – that they’d say I was forced into it!”

Sirius stood up and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, his fingers almost digging into Harry’s flesh. “Harry, listen to me and listen carefully. They needed something to blame and now that they’ve found it, they’re not going to let it go.” Harry tried to pull away and Sirius jerked him back, his face hard and pale. “But you listen, you cannot let rumors and gossip drive a wedge between you and someone you love.”

Harry just clenched his jaw for a second, refusing to look Sirius in the eye or at the closed spare room door.

  “I’m speaking from experience, Harry. You can’t let that happen.”

Harry lifted his gaze, not to Sirius’s eyes, but to Remus, who was watching them from the couch. Slowly, Remus nodded.

  “Okay,” he murmured, and Sirius let go of his shoulders. His godfather looked at him for a second, and it struck Harry suddenly that Sirius was shorter than him. That he had a few gray hairs at his temple. That his eyes had wrinkles at the corners, that his stubble was less black than it had been when they’d first met, that he was older.

Harry was older, too.

He stepped past Sirius and opened the door to the spare bedroom, stepping inside and shutting it carefully behind him. The room was empty at first glance, but the attached bathroom door was ajar and there was a light on inside. He crossed to it and knocked.

Ginny opened it, then held up a finger. She was brushing her teeth. Harry stood there while she brushed and then spat and rinsed out her mouth, silent while she dried her lips and put the towel back on its hook, while she stepped past him and dropped onto the bed.

  “We should talk,” he said eventually.

  “I know,” she mumbled.

Harry moved to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it. Ginny rolled over, putting her back to him. Harry clenched his jaw, then lay down behind her and pushed his arms around her waist. She let out a little squawk of protest but Harry had locked his arms around her and she couldn’t escape him.

  “We’re talking,” he said.

  “What if I just want to sleep?” Ginny demanded. “What if I don’t want to talk?”

  “I don’t give a shit,” Harry said forcefully. Ginny shifted in his arms to look at him, her gaze hard. “New rule. I’m not letting you go to sleep mad at me, you can’t let me go to sleep mad at you. Deal?”

  “Why not?” Ginny huffed.

  “Because neither of us are idiots,” he said.

  “And where did this wise wisdom come from?” Ginny asked. “The inventor of all things wise himself?”

   “Sirius,” Harry said, and Ginny went quiet. Apparently, she hadn’t been listening. “From experience.”

  “Fine,” she murmured finally, and Harry loosened his grip a little. “What do you want to say?”

  “I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

  “I’m sorry I called you an idiot.”

  “I forgive you.”

Ginny nodded, then she yawned. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you because of what Dumbledore did,” she muttered. “It wasn’t fair to you.”

  “I’m sorry that I tried to shoulder this alone and that I forgot about you.”

  “I forgive you,” she murmured.

Harry kissed her forehead. “You can go to sleep now,” he said. Ginny slipped an arm around his waist and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

For a moment, they said nothing. Ginny’s slow inhales filled Harry’s ears, his own heartbeat adding a faint rhythm. Then, she spoke again.

  “I think you should call your aunt tomorrow.”

Harry hesitated, for a second unsure, then remembered that his uncle had been at the station. That his uncle was numbered among the dead. He nodded.

He did speak with his aunt the next day, using the Floo to the Burrow to contact her. She didn’t cry, but her eyes would never meet his. Vernon, she’d said, had been sober. He had been coming to the village to show her proof that he’d been attending Alcoholics Anonymous, and he’d been sober for almost two years. He was trying to fulfill Step Nine and make up for how he had wronged her and Dudley, and even Harry. When they said goodbye, Harry retreated back to the spare bedroom where he stared at the ceiling until night fell, wondering what he would have done if his uncle had tried to apologize to him.

For a week, Harry and Ginny stayed out of sight; they slept and ate in Sirius and Remus’s private quarters. Neither of them touched the copy of the  _ Prophet _ Remus would get, and they didn’t listen to the radio at all. After that week and the dust had settled some, they returned to Gryffindor Tower and their rooms, but they still avoided the other students. This seemed fine with everyone else, however. Hardly anyone even looked at them, and if they did, it was with barely controlled glares and blank stares. Pavarti and Lavender, who usually sat in the middle of the common room to chat and laugh loudly, gave them looks of distrust when they passed by. Alicia looked at the ground when she neared them. Lee stopped smiling, and not even Fred and George could cheer him up. Head Girl Hollins would turn her back to them when they exited their rooms at the same time as her. Seamus avoided everyone, even Dean, who eventually stopped trying to get his best friend to talk to him it seemed. Not even Collin and Dennis Creevey looked at them.

It would have been a relief, to no longer be whispered about and stared at, if it hadn’t been for the fact that all these people were not only angry, but grieving. Harry didn’t judge them. He, too, walked with deflated shoulders and his eyes on the ground. It was like a heavy blanket had settled over the whole castle; no one could escape the ever-permeating aura of  _ grief _ . Students that had once been bright and lively were now hidden behind dull eyes and watery smiles. Even the skies seemed to be mourning, with naught but clouds and colorless air, not even the sun shining upon them to lend the barest hint of yellow to the graying world.

The new semester started, and despite the students' anger at the initial announcement, no one protested the new defense lessons. Initially, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and even Professor Flitwick taught in tandem; spellwork from Flitwick and Sirius, and hand-to-hand defense from Remus and Tonks. When Harry asked how Remus knew so much, his godfather shrugged and said he’d attended a Muggle school before Hogwarts with not-so-polite leanings towards children of his origins. When Harry asked what that meant, Remus told him to ask another time. Within another week, Dumbledore had hired Alastor Moody once again to take over from Sirius, Remus, and Flitwick. The additional lessons were given every day after regular classes, first and second years on Mondays, third and fourth years on Tuesdays, fifth years on Wednesdays, sixth years on Thursdays, and seventh years on Fridays.

During normal lessons, extra things were added to the curriculum. Flitwick began teaching simple healing spells, advancing them for the fifth years and above, Snape started them on healing potions and calming draughts, McGonagall started the sixth and seventh years on how to transfigure large objects like desks into big cats and bears. By the end of January, even the first years knew how to break an attacker’s hand and wand in one motion.

Dumbledore hadn’t had time to continue their private lessons, with all the going back and forth between the ministry contesting the emplacement of the Wembley Act, and since everyone was getting extra training, Tonks stopped doing their lessons at the crack of dawn, though they continued to do physical exercise before breakfast. McGonagall kept them doing their Animagus training, and by the first week of February, all of them had managed to transfigure at least halfway into their complete forms.

But despite the hustle and bustle, the students remained hushed and distant. They still walked with their shoulders drooping and their eyes on the ground. It snowed two feet halfway through January and no one started even a snowball skirmish, let alone a fight. Not even Fred and George tried. Quidditch matches were half-hearted and empty without Lee’s enigmatic commentary. But slowly, the skies turned blue and the gray seemed to be lifting from the eyes of the students.

With February came the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. The night before, Dumbledore announced at dinner that for special circumstances, even first and second years would be allowed to go with the accompaniment of an older student. For the first time in weeks, students were smiling for more than a moment.

When Saturday morning came, the common room was nearly empty when Harry and Ginny entered it. In fact, it was devoid of life except for Seamus, who was sitting in front of the dying fire. Harry hesitated, then walked over to him and dropped down beside him. Seamus glanced at him, then muttered an absent greeting.

  “How’s your mum?” Harry asked quietly.

  “Stable,” was his answer.

Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the rug in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Still. I wish there was something I could do to help you.”

Seamus nodded back, then pushed himself to his feet. “I don’t think anyone can do anything, really,” he murmured, then left for the dorms again. Harry watched him go, his shoulders sagging again. Ginny took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

  “He’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Just let him be.”

No one was particularly excited for Valentine’s Day that year. The Great Hall had been decorated with pastels and hearts, rivaling almost the debauchery that Lockhart had set up back in second year, but with less confetti. The students in the hall talked a little more loudly than they had been as of late, but the mood was still blue, not pink. Harry and Ginny took their seats at the end of Gryffindor table, with a morose looking Dean and Neville sat across from them and Ron and Hermione beside them, looking as if they were about to fall asleep into their breakfasts. Harry poked at his food and Ginny turned her eggs with her fork. None of them felt like talking, it seemed.

Seamus joined them a while later, however, which was a first since mid-January. Harry looked up as his old roommate approached and offered him a smile, but the boy ignored him in favor of dropping down beside Dean. The both of them looked miserable, Harry noted. Seamus poked Dean in the shoulder, at which point Dean shifted away from his friend. Seamus prodded him again, then reached out and grabbed his friend’s hand.

  “Hey,” Seamus said, which was the first thing any of them had said all morning. “I want to tell you something.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Dean answered and Harry frowned.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Harry asked him, and Dean shook his head.

  “Dean, I want to tell you something,” Seamus repeated, and Dean continued to shake his head. “Please, Dean.”

Ginny caught Harry’s eye, and Harry shrugged. Ron lifted his head from where it had been propped up on his fist to frown in Dean and Seamus’s direction. Neville stopped shifting his food around his plate and Hermione set down her coffee.

  “I’m telling you or the whole table,” Seamus said. “I want to tell you.”

  “Seamus, I’m tired,” Dean said shortly. “I’m not doing this right now.”

Harry had to wonder what Dean’s issue was; their friend had been grieving for a month and Dean couldn’t take the time to listen to what he had to say?

  “Dean, please.”

Dean shook his head again. “I’m not doing this anymore. I can't do this one day and have you ignore me the next. No.”

Seamus stared at him for a moment, then he rubbed roughly at his cheeks and stood up. “Your choice,” he said, then climbed onto the bench.

  “What are you doing?” Harry asked Seamus, but his friend was already clearing a space on the table to climb even further. Everyone around them was suddenly going quiet, such that when Seamus cleared his throat, everyone could hear it.

  “I’m gay,” Seamus announced.

For a second, no one said anything. Seamus looked down at Dean, who was gaping at him.

  “I’m probably never going to tell my family, ‘cause me mam’s on her deathbed and me dad’s a hateful beast, but I have to tell someone, and since the person I want to tell isn’t listening, I’ll tell everyone. I’m gay.”

The silence stretched. Two seconds, five seconds, seven seconds. Harry could swear he could hear Seamus’s heart beating in the silence. Seamus made to get down from the table, then someone started clapping.

Harry looked up the table to see Lee Jordan standing up, bringing his hands together in a fast rhythm. Then Fred and George stood up too and started clapping alongside Lee, followed by the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and then Anna Williams climbed onto the table as well.

  “I’m gay too!” she called.

  “Hurray for being gay!” cheered Lee, and suddenly the whole hall was cheering and shouting. Half a dozen other people at the Gryffindor table were jumping up to shout with Seamus and Williams, then the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were being stood upon by gay students joining the mass coming out, and it seemed as if the clouds had parted just in time to let yellow sunshine grace them all.

While no one at the Slytherin Table stood or clapped, the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs cheered loud enough to make up for their silence. Hannah Abbot had started a chant, tearful students beaming amongst the cheers, “WE’RE HERE, WE’RE QUEER.”

After nearly ten minutes, the cheering died down. Students took their seats again; Seamus sat in a sort of stunned silence until the shouting was replaced by talking, though the hall did not return to the level of volume it had been before the mass coming out, but to a volume it hadn’t been since Christmas. Eventually, Seamus prodded Dean in the shoulder again.

  “Dean,” Seamus said.

Dean dropped his fork and turned to Seamus, then abruptly kissed him. Seamus sat frozen for a second, then stuck his fists in the air in triumph.

Harry grinned to himself, looking around the room. Several people had conjured rainbow hearts and sent them up into the air to join the rest of the Valentine’s Day décor, and for the first time in weeks, it was truly colorful in the room. Rainbows, Harry decided, were much better than endless gray.

From then on, students really smiled. At the next Quidditch match, Lee Jordan made twice as many jokes as he’d ever done in the past and McGonagall didn’t scold him for a single one. Seamus and Dean started holding hands in the hallways, Ron beside them with his wand drawn and glaring at any who so much as twitched a frown in their direction. The first day of March, Dumbledore announced that the school’s drama department was being brought back under the tutelage of the Head Boy and Girl as well as Professor Sprout and they would be doing a performance of the Fountain of Fair Fortune in June.

And as the school brightened, Dumbledore summoned Harry and Ginny to his office, greeting them with a tired but welcoming smile, and Mrs. Vance by his side.

  “It is time you learned to hone your skills,” Mrs. Vance said to Ginny. “Starting with dream-walking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _see, i told you! now, feel free to yell at me in comments, i deserve it, but hopefully all this writer's block will have passed. happy pride month!_


	61. Ish Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _hi i’m v sorry it’s been ages. writer’s block has rlly been kicking my butt where this story is concerned._

**Chapter Sixty-One**

**Ish Happens**

**Ginny**

 

   “Dream-walking?” Ginny asked.

 

   “It’s the first step,” Mrs. Vance answered, “once you are able to dream-walk, astral projection will be possible.”

 

   “Astral projection?” she repeated.

 

_Dude._

_Dude,_ Ginny echoed.

 

   “Erm, why exactly am I learning to astral project?”

 

   “Your teacher believes this will make it easier to locate the Horcruxes.”  


 Ginny looked to Dumbledore, her eyebrows raised. _Astral projection._

_That’s new._

   “The two of you have a certain…” Dumbledore paused, seeming in a search for words, “connection to the Horcruxes. If you can master astral projection, Ginny, you might be able to hunt them down much faster than I can.”

 

 Eyebrows still raised, Ginny looked over Mrs. Vance. _Astral projection._

 

_That’s what they’re saying._

_Like… out of body experiences._

_Yep._

_Oh, boy._

_Yep._

   “Come sit with me,” Mrs. Vance said, setting herself on a cushion on the ground. “Professor, the lights please.”

 

 Ginny took the cushion across from Mrs. Vance as Professor Dumbledore waved his wand and put out the lights, all but a few flickering candles between Ginny and Mrs. Vance. The woman was barely visible in the low light, her deep chocolate skin blending into the dark. Dumbledore sat down at his desk, and after a moment, Harry took a chair by the desk as well.

 

   “To start, let all tension leave your body. Close your eyes and breathe in. Count to ten, then exhale for another ten seconds.”

 

 Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged, then she shut her eyes. She tried to mimic the darkness of the room with her thoughts, but stray words would appear every few seconds. She tried focusing on counting, _one, two, three, four_ , then she’d think something about how this was silly and mess it up.

 

   “Letting all the tension from your body includes your mind, dear.”

 

Ginny flushed. “Sorry.”

 

   “Let me help you. I shall enter your mind using Legilimency, and establish a connection. Is that alright?”

 

   “Fine with me,” Ginny mumbled, then immediately shivered as she felt a sensation akin to water trickling down her spine and had the sudden feeling that she was not alone in her thoughts.

 

   “You are perceptive, my dear. Relax your mind, reach out to me in your mind and hear my thoughts.”

 

 Ginny inhaled, _four five six seven eight nine ten_ , and exhaled, and a strain of music, like humming, slipped into her brain. The humming continued, taking on the distinct notes and timbre of Mrs. Vance’s own voice, until words began to slip alongside the hum.

 

  _Au clair de lune, mon ami Pierrot, prête-moi ta plume, pour écrire un mot. ma chandelle est morte, je n’ai plus de feu, ouvre-moi ta porte, pour l’amour de Dieu._

 Ginny felt her lids no longer resisting the urge to open, but felt heavy on her eyes. The tightness in her back began to bleed away, until she had to lay back on the pillows, the strains of the lullaby reaching through her entire mind until she heard nothing else, and then she was asleep.

 

   _“Very good, Ginny.”_

 The voice was not hers, nor was it Harry’s, but in her relaxed state, she could not find it in her to care.

 

   _“I see that we have brought with us a guest.”_

  _Hmm?_

 

 Ginny lazily reached out with her mind, feeling Harry asleep along with her. _Yeah, we usually fall asleep together._

_“Most interesting.”_

_Wait. Are you dreaming with me?_

_“I am dream-walking, child. I have entered your dreams.”_

_Wicked,_ Harry thought.

 

   _“Take my hand, Ginny. I will ease you into the next step.”_

 Ginny saw before her Mrs. Vance, but not the Mrs. Vance that was really sitting in front of her, this woman’s eyes were whole and a deep hazel almost gold. Mrs. Vance smiled invitingly, and Ginny took her hand.

 

   _“We shall find the mind of my husband, he has agreed to be let you practice on him. He is asleep now, come.”_

_How do I do that?_  
  


_“Think of him, focus on your most crystal memories. Reach out with your mind, focusing on him, and you will find him.”_

 Ginny frowned and wondered how she was meant to do _that_ , but she was already remembering something, a deep chuckle and her own shrieking laughter, and abruptly she was in the sitting room of the Burrow, she was very small, perhaps two or three, and she was being tickled mercilessly by large, warm hands. The man tickling her was broad and tall, with kind eyes and a lined forehead. His skin, a shade slightly darker than Harry’s, nearly glowed in the light of a sunset right outside the window.

 

_“Focus on that memory, Ginny. You can find his mind, reach out.”_

 Ginny studied the face of Abraham Vance, a godfather she’d never known; she was no longer a toddler, but her current age, kneeling on the ground and frowning at a man much older, with more lines and whose eyes were drained of almost all the color. He was both half-starved and well-fed before her, clean shaved and hidden behind a scraggly beard, and the Burrow was no longer the Burrow, but a dark room barely five feet across and seven feet long, with bars covering one end and the other crumbling brick with a single window six inches long and two inches tall. The face was hollow and the limbs thin. Ginny saw Abraham Vance as he had been while in imprisonment.

 

   _“Well done, Ginny. You have entered my husband’s sleeping mind.”_

_What do I do now?_

_“Try and speak to him.”_

 Ginny reached out a hand for Abraham’s shoulder, but her fingers passed through it. She looked around, and saw Harry standing behind her; he shrugged.

 

 _Say his name?_ he suggested.

 

 Ginny leaned closer to Abraham, who simply stared through her. “Abraham!” she called.

 

 The man didn’t stir.

 

   “Brom!” she tried.

 

 Abraham only blinked, still unmoving otherwise.

 

   _“He is too focused on his dream. You have not entered a nightmare, but it is on the path to becoming one. Try to manipulate your surroundings.”_

_Do what now?_

_“Manipulate the cell. Change it. Change the direction of the dream. You are the master of it, not the other way around.”_

_How?_

_“Focus.”_

 Ginny huffed and looked around. She crossed to the bars and looked at the door, glaring almost at the lock on it. How was she the master of iron and mortar? How was she supposed to change anything here with just her mind?

 

   _“Try, Ginny.”_

 Ginny huffed again and pursed her lips, then leaned closer and looked at the locked door. If she squinted, the iron bars blurred together.

 

_Harry, lend me your glasses._

 Harry took them off and handed them to her. She put them on, blinked suddenly, then stared at the bars of the door. They blurred together seamlessly, then she peered over the top of the glasses and the bars had become a wooden door. She pushed the glasses up her nose, looking around, and in the blurriness, the window seemed larger, rounder, the walls farther away, and when she pulled the glasses off and handed them back to her husband, the room was comfortable looking and airy. Abraham lifted his gaze from wherever it had been and looked around the room, then slowly lay back on the bench that had become a bed.

 

 Ginny walked over to him again. “Hey, Brom?” she tried.

 

 Abraham’s eyes flickered, then he half sat up. Ginny moved directly in front of him and said forcefully: “Abraham!”

 

   “Who’s there?” Abraham said suspiciously.

 

 Mrs. Vance’s voice echoed abruptly. _“Ginny has succeeded in entering your dream, my love. You hear the voice of your goddaughter.”_

 Abraham relaxed a little, then his eyes glazed over again and he lay back on the pillows, staring up once more at the ceiling. Ginny waved a hand in front of his face. “Abraham?”

 

 He made no movement.

 

  _Was that supposed to happen?_

_“Yes. Dreamers are often not able to remain lucid for long, especially not in recognizing a second person in their dream.”_

_What now?_

_“Change the dream again.”_

 Ginny turned back to get Harry’s glasses back, when Mrs. Vance spoke again: _“On your own, this time.”_

_Well, that’s rubbish,_ Ginny thought grumpily. Mrs. Vance said nothing. Ginny looked around the room and moved to the window, staring out through it. It was sunny outside, but dull and unremarkable. She’d much rather be somewhere nicer, or more comforting.

 

 She thought of the land attached to the Burrow, of the pond she’d go swimming and fishing in during the summer, and fancied that if she were standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, it would be just visible past the nearest tree line.

 

 She turned her head and saw still a bedroom, not a kitchen, let alone a familiar one. Harry walked over to her and joined her in staring out the window. Ginny found a tree-line in the right area, and tried to imagine a shimmer of water on the other side. She squinted, and if her eyes unfocused just right, the glimmer was almost visible. Ginny relaxed her eyes and decided that there was, in fact, a pond there, that she was, in fact, standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, that Abraham was sitting at the table with fresh baked biscuits and a good book, because he deserved both of those things.

 

 Ginny turned around. Abraham bit into his biscuit and continued to read his book. He didn’t notice her or Harry or appear to hear Mrs. Vance’s voice when it rang out over the dream again.

 

   _“You are progressing marvelously, my dear. It is time to wake up, however. Return to your own mind.”_

_How?_

_“As you have done everything else. Focus.”_

 Ginny closed her eyes and exhaled, then imagined Abraham and the Burrow shooting away from her, or perhaps she was shooting away from it, and she let go of it, thinking that she was back in Dumbledore’s office, snoozing on pillows in the light of only half a dozen candles.

 

 She felt a soft sensation trickle up her spine. She slipped into a lighter slumber, then she opened her eyes and blinked.

 

 Mrs. Vance smiled at her, her eyes again milky and scarred. “Well done, my dear,” she said quietly. “You have just dream-walked.”

 

   “Are we going to astral project now?” Ginny asked, rubbing at her eyes.

 

   “Heavens, no, not this instant. In time, my dear.”

 

 Ginny squinted for a second at Mrs. Vance, then sighed and nodded. “So, do I have homework now?”

 

   “You do, unfortunately,” Mrs. Vance said with the barest hint of a smile. “Daily meditation and you’ll need to start learning Legilimency in addition to Occlumency, it makes entering another’s dream easier if you have few strong memories of them.”

 

   “I will be teaching you Legilimency,” Dumbledore supplied helpfully.”

 

   “On Saturday nights, I will be entering your dreams and guiding you into walking between your own dreams and a select few who consent to allowing you to practice on them; my husband will be one, Professor Dumbledore has offered to be another.”

 

   “I suppose I can’t dream-walk into Harry’s dreams?” Ginny asked.

 

 Mrs. Vance paused, then, her face neutral, she shook her head. “No, I do not think so. It appears that you and Mr. Potter are already dream-walking between the two of you, and the two of you are also linked much more closely than any others before. I do not believe it would be possible for one of you to sleep and the other remain awake, even.”

 

   “I did fall asleep when Ginny did,” Harry mused. Mrs. Vance nodded.

 

   “For now, you will need rest. Return to your rooms and sleep. Goodnight, Ginny.”

 

 Ginny rose from the cushions, took Harry’s hand, and together, they left Dumbledore’s office.

 

 The next morning, Harry and Ginny ate breakfast in the kitchens as they always did those days and made their way to Potions earlier than normal. At the door, however, they stopped.

 

   “You’re going to get yourself hurt!” shouted Snape’s voice from within, barely audible, and sounding desperate.

 

   “Maybe I don’t give a damn! Maybe I’d rather be gone than stuck here doing what I’m told every day, pretending that I’m something I’m not and acting like a lap dog to someone I never wanted to go near!”

 

 Ginny’s eyes went very wide and she turned to face her husband, whose face was pale as she expected her own to be.

 

  _Malfoy_ , they thought in unison.

 

   “There are greater things at stake than this! You don’t understand, you’re a child, Draco –”

 

   “Exactly! I’m a child! I’m barely sixteen and a day! I shouldn’t have to do these things, I should be stressing about my exams and who next to fuck, not this!”

 

   “Keep your voice down, Draco!”

 

   “I’m already this close to losing everything, I might as well take that last step already, right? I might as well commit myself to eternity in Azkaban already!”

 

   “Draco Lucius Malfoy, you listen to me right now! You are acting like a fool, you will destroy everything you’re working for and all you’ve earned if you don’t obey this command!”

 

   “Maybe I want to destroy it, maybe I don’t want to go through with this and maybe I’d rather do whatever the fuck I want instead, and no one in this fucking castle will stop me!”

 

   “I will stop you!”

 

   “You can’t stop my heart from hating it.”

 

   “Listen to me, Draco. This is important, there are bigger things at stake here!”

 

   “Like what?”

 

 Snape’s voice did not answer, or if it did, they did not hear it. Ginny glanced at Harry, a thought forming in her head, but already, he was shaking his.

 

  _Gave those Extendable Ears back to Fred and George a while ago. Sorry._

 Ginny was about to curse under her breath, when Malfoy burst out again:

 

   “You can’t do that!”

 

   “I can’t, but _he_ can!”

 

 Ginny gulped. She didn’t have to think too hard about who _he_ might be.

 

   “Do you see now? Your own feelings must be put aside, for the greater good!”

 

   “I don’t believe you.”

 

   “Believe it! Then start acting like you’re not some sniveling, poncy Hufflepuff, man up and do the deed!”

 

   “I hate you!”

 

   “Join the club.”

 

 Somewhere a door slammed, likely Snape’s office. A chair scraped against the floor and they heard a thud, as if someone heavily dropping their head onto a table. Ginny looked at Harry and raised her eyebrows.

 

  _Dumbledore should know about this,_ she thought.

 

 _Let’s go,_ Harry said.

 

 They turned and fled to the Great Hall. Dumbledore’s seat was unoccupied, so they ran up the stairs to the fourth floor and to the gargoyles guarding the Headmaster’s office.

 

   “Professor Dumbledore is not presently at your disposal,” one gargoyle said.

 

   “This is urgent!” Harry snapped.

 

   “Oh, urgent, eh?” said the other. “Ooh, we’d better let them in, then.”

 

   “There’s a student posing a risk to the school,” Ginny said hastily.

 

   “Try that again, but with a little more emotion,” the first gargoyle told her, “make me really believe it.”

 

   “Please, the password’s Licorice Wands, let us in!”

 

   “The password’s been changed,” the second gargoyle snapped.

 

   “Potter, Potter, what are you two doing?”

 

 Ginny whipped around and sighed in relief at McGonagall standing behind them. “Professor, we overheard Malfoy and Snape talking, Snape’s trying to convince Malfoy to do to do something for Voldemort!”

 

 McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “Professor Snape is a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Mrs. Potter. Whatever he was speaking _privately_ with Mr. Malfoy certainly has nothing to do with You-Know-Who.”

 

   “But we heard them, Professor, and we overheard them talking a few months ago about this, too!” Harry piped up.

 

   “Professor Snape would not encourage a student to work for You-Know-Who!” McGonagall snapped. “Did you consider that perhaps it was something else? Maybe Mr. Malfoy wishes to drop out of school, or perhaps he wishes to pursue a relationship his parents do not approve of.”

 

   “You didn’t hear them!” Ginny insisted. “Here, take us up to Dumbledore’s office, we can put our memory in the Pensieve and you can see for yourself!”

 

   “That will not be necessary,” Professor McGonagall said stiffly. “Please, you will be late for your first class. Move along.”

 

   “Something at the very least is wrong, Professor,” Harry said. “Malfoy – he actually sounded very upset, Snape said something to him that seemed to disturb him. Please, you have to believe us.”

 

 Professor McGonagall glanced at her watch, then sighed heavily. She looked up, not at them, but to the two gargoyles behind them. “Sherbet lemon,” she said tiredly.

 

 The two gargoyles leapt aside. Ginny turned around and practically ran up the stairs, McGonagall and Harry right behind her.

 

   “We will have to be quick,” McGonagall said. “Professor Dumbledore is out of the school this morning, but you are due in lessons and so am I.”

 

 She took out the Pensieve and raised her wand, looking between the pair of them. Ginny brushed her hair aside from her temple, stepping closer to the Transfiguration teacher. McGonagall set her wand at her temple, then carefully drew it away, a strand of silvery something trailing behind it. She tapped her wand against the silver basin, and it fell into it, then formed the image of a stone door.

 

 McGonagall brushed it with her wand, and her face fell impassive. For a full two minutes, she stood there, then abruptly, her face went pale. She pulled her wand away and stared into the basin, her eyes wide.

 

   “Potters,” she said slowly, “forgive me of my disbelief. You were right to show this to me.”

 

   “See!” Harry cried. “He’s got to be doing something for Voldemort.”

 

   “Perhaps,” McGonagall said quietly. “I will present this to Dumbledore, in the meantime, you need to go to your lessons, you will be late by the time you get there, wait a moment.”

 

 McGonagall grabbed a slip of parchment and a quill from Dumbledore’s desk, scribbled something on it, then handed it to them. “Give this to your teacher, it will grant you leave for your lateness.”

 

 They nodded, then McGonagall ushered them out of the office and disappeared down a corridor. Ginny looked at Harry, who was staring at McGonagall’s note.

 

   “Now what?” he said.

 

   “We wait,” Ginny told him, then grabbed his hand. “And go to Potions before we’re even later.”

 

 Snape scowled at them the minute they walked in, and continued to scowl even after they gave him McGonagall’s note. They were making Blood Replenishing potions that morning, but because they were late, their potion was not at quite the halfway point that everyone else’s were when they were dismissed at the bell to allow the potions to stew. Ron, Hermione, and Neville caught up to them as they were leaving.

 

   “What took you so long?” Hermione asked them with wide eyes. “Snape was livid!”

 

   “Isn’t he always?” Harry snapped.

 

 Hermione gave him a look, and he quelled. “More than usual,” she said.

 

   “We had to talk with McGonagall,” Ginny said.

 

   “About what?” Ron asked.

 

   “In a bit, when there’s less people around,” Harry said, giving the crowds going up to the main castle a suspicious glance.

 

   “Did you notice that he was acting weird, though?” Hermione said. “Hardly kept still for ten seconds.”

 

   “All I noticed was he didn’t scream at me today,” Neville said, “personally, I don’t care what he does as long as he’s not trying to scare me to death.”

 

   “You’ll be fine, Neville,” Hermione said distractedly. “He seemed sort of worried, though.”

 

   “More like angry,” Ginny said darkly. Hermione frowned at her.

 

   “What did you see?” she asked astutely.

 

   “In a minute!” Harry snapped. They turned a corner and ducked inside an empty room. “Here, this’ll do.”

 

 The other three turned to face them, Hermione crossing her arms, Neville frowning, Ron picking his nose. Hermione elbowed him and he hastily dropped his hand.

 

   “We got to Potions actually rather early,” Harry started.

 

   “Only we weren’t the only ones!” Ginny said.

 

   “Let me guess,” Hermione said slowly, “Malfoy.”

 

   “He was there, having an argument with Snape,” Harry said with a nod. “We think that Voldemort’s–” their three friends flinched “– told him to do something, only for some reason, Malfoy doesn’t want to do it and Snape’s been put up to convincing him!”

 

   “So why were you late?” Ron asked.

 

   “Well, we went to tell Dumbledore,” Ginny answered. “Only, he wasn’t there, so we talked to McGonagall instead. She said she’d talk to Dumbledore, then sent us off to our classes.”

 

   “Why do you think this is about You-Know-Who?” Hermione asked.

 

   “It just makes sense,” Harry said. “Whatever it is, it’s very important, and it’s upset Malfoy. And if it’s upset even Malfoy, an utter scumbag, then it’s got to be something bad.”

 

   “What, you think he’s going to kill Dumbledore or something?” Ron said with a scoff. “You-Know-Who wouldn’t put anything too important on Malfoy, the prat’d mess it up, more like!”

 

   “I don’t know what it is, but it only makes sense!” Harry insisted.

 

 Hermione met Ginny’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Ginny nodded and raised hers back. Hermione frowned, then glanced at Harry, before looking back at Ginny and biting a lip.

 

   “Okay, enough of this non-verbal communication,” Ron said, waving a hand between them. “Seriously, Malfoy can’t be up to something major, he’s nowhere near to being a full grown-wizard, so what could he do?”

 

   “I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “But it’s something.”

 

   “Why would he be upset about it, anyway?” Neville asked. “He’s one of the worst blood purists out there, he ate up all the propaganda and he’s been spewing it back out ever since he got to Hogwarts. What could there possibly be that You-Know-Who would want him to do that he wouldn’t be willing to?”

 

   “I haven’t a clue,” Harry said heavily.

 

   “That’s useless,” Ron said. Hermione elbowed him. “What? It is!”

 

   “We need to know more,” Harry said, turning away from them and beginning to pace. “Whatever he’s up to, it _can’t_ be good, and I can’t not do anything!”

 

   “Doesn’t Dumbledore already have Dobby following him?” Ron said. “Couldn’t we just ask him?”

 

   “We could!” Harry said, brightening; he started for the door, waving for them to follow. “Come on, let’s go!”

 

   “Yes, to Charms!” Hermione piped up, and Harry immediately deflated. “We can eat lunch in the kitchens today and talk to Dobby then, alright?”

 

   “Fine,” Harry grumbled, sounding very much like he wanted to completely abandon Charms and find out what Malfoy was doing. Which was what he wanted. Ginny took his hand as they left the room and gave it a squeeze.

 

_We’ll figure it out, don’t worry._

_We’d just better do it soon._

 Ginny didn’t answer that thought. She squeezed his hand again and followed Neville, Ron, and Hermione up the stairs.

 

 After Charms, they had Defense; Sirius and Remus were teaching them more and more advanced jinxes, and that day’s was twofold, the shield spell that returned a spell to its caster, and a jinx that caused gushing nosebleeds.

 

   “We have a full stock of Blood Replenishing potions!” Remus called out to the classroom. “But please, do us a favor and don’t actually cast this jinx on your partner, it’s enough to use it on the practice dummies!”

 

 When the class period ended, the good thing was that Neville had produced the strongest Nosebleed jinx of all, the bad thing was that Ron’s robes were a vibrant shade of scarlet due to his very impressive nosebleed.

 

   “I fink I might ‘ave to see Madam Pomfrey,” Ron said around his pinched nose as they left for lunch. “I don’t fink I’ll be able to go to ‘erbology at all!”  


   “Did you get Neville to jinx you on purpose so you could get out of class?” Hermione asked him abruptly.

 

   “No!” Ron said hastily, his ears turning red as his bloodied nostrils. Neville suddenly whistled a tune and looked out the window. Hermione clucked disapprovingly. “’ere, you come wif me to Pomfrey, will you, love?”

 

   “Fine,” Hermione grumbled. “We’ll see you later,” she said, taking Ron’s elbow and steering him away. Ginny shook her head at their backs.

 

   “Did Ron tell you to jinx him so he could get out of class?” Harry asked Neville.

 

   “No!” Neville said, very unconvincingly. Ginny rolled her eyes, but smiled; it was rather clever of him.

 

  _We ought to have tried it._

_I don’t think that would have worked as well, Gin. Probably would have resulted in both of us getting nosebleeds or something._

_Probably, but then we would have both been excused._

 Harry snorted and Ginny smiled, and Neville frowned at the two of them. Ginny shook her head at him, curling an arm through Harry’s.

 

 At the entrance to the Great Hall, Neville left them to go find Luna, almost immediately disappearing into a crowd of fourth year Gryffindors, and they started towards the basements and the kitchens. A group of Slytherins passed them on their way up, then Ginny, purely on accident, made eye contact with Malfoy.

 

 For a second, all that happened was she set her jaw and hardened her gaze. Then Malfoy’s lips drew back, as if he were about to sneer and jeer at her, but then his gaze moved from hers, to someone over her shoulder that she couldn’t see; his face dropped into something unreadable and he looked in the opposite direction of both her and whoever had been behind her. Ginny half stopped, glancing over her shoulder, and when she saw no one even facing them, she turned and watched him go into the hall, astonished.

 

  _What was that?_ Harry thought.

 

 _I have no clue, but I want it to keep happening,_ Ginny said.

 

_Let’s just go._

 In the kitchens, the elves immediately served them sandwiches and fried pickles with freshly squeezed pumpkin juice, putting them at a table near the fires and leaving them to eat in peace. Ginny didn’t see Dobby, not at first, so the two of them ate with a wary eye, watching for the elf to find them.

 

   “Harry Potter, sir!”

 

 There he was; Dobby had just bounded through the portrait hole, gave a shout, then ran for their table, nearly knocking into half a dozen elves along the way. Ginny dusted off her hands and smiled at the elf, pulling out the chair next to hers when he skidded to a halt near them.

 

   “Hello, Dobby,” Harry said warmly in greeting. “We came to have a chat with you.”

 

   “Really, Harry Potter, sir?” Dobby said with a squeak. “Ooh, thank you, sir, thank you! Dobby is always loving chatting with you, sir!”

 

   “We wondered if you had any gossip to share with us,” Ginny asked, patting the seat. “Sit down.”

 

 Dobby scrambled into the chair and stood on it, beaming with pride as he adjusted his many ties and hats. “Well, Dobby always has gossip, sir and ma’am, it’s depending on what sort of gossip you is wanting to hear!”

 

   “How about the Slytherins?” Harry asked. “About Malfoy, specifically.”

 

   “Dobby has been seeing him hanging about the seventh floor at random times, sir!” Dobby said, puffing up his chest. “Much more often than of late, sir!”

 

   “Why?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Dobby isn’t sure, ma’am,” Dobby admitted, “but Dobby could find out if you’s like!”

 

   “That would be wonderful, thank you, Dobby,” Ginny said.

 

   “Anything you’d like, Missus Harry Potter’s precious!” Dobby said, sweeping a low bow and only barely managing to catch his hats when they fell from his head. “Anything you’d like!”

 

   “Do you know anything else?” Harry asked.

 

   “There is being a lot more students occupying the broom cupboards as of late,” Dobby said with complete seriousness. “Especially lots of girls and girls, and lots of boys and boys. Dobby isn’t sure why, but they is not leaving too much mess for we elves, so it isn’t seeming too important.”

 

   “Ah, that’s fine, Dobby, but do you know anything more about Malfoy?”

 

   “He is not going into any broom cupboards with anyone!” Dobby said proudly.

 

 Ginny half grimaced, not wanting to think of Malfoy being ensconced in a broom cupboard in any situation with any person. “What about his attitude?”

 

   “He is seeming distressed,” Dobby answered, “and he is not liking to spend much time in the Slytherin common room. Dobby is seeing him stay in his room much more often except for lessons, meals, and to go to the seventh floor at night.”

 

   “He’s sneaking out at night?” Harry asked.

 

   “Oh, yes, sir, always at night, sir,” Dobby replied, “he is always coming back very late and smiling, sir, but he is always frowning again come morning.”

 

 Ginny glanced at Harry. _That doesn’t make much sense._

Harry addressed Dobby again. “Do you think you could do me a favor, Dobby?”

 

   “Oh, yes, sir, anything for Harry Potter, sir!”

 

   “All of the things you gossip about with Dumbledore, do you think you could tell us, too?”

 

   “Of course, sir, Dobby is happy to share with Harry Potter, sir!”

 

   “Is there anything you’ve told Dumbledore that you haven’t said to us?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Only that Draco Malfoy is being yelled at by Professor Snape and his letters.”

 

   “He’s gotten Howlers?” Ginny asked, frowning.

 

   “Not precisely, ma’am, but he is getting letters that is yelling without the yelling,” Dobby told her.   


_That makes less sense._

  “Do you mean he gets angry letters?”

 

   “Letters that is yelling without the yelling,” Dobby repeated sagely. Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged almost imperceptibly.

 

   “Thanks, Dobby,” Harry said. “I’ll bring you some new socks soon, alright?”

 

   “Oh, thank you, Harry Potter, sir, you is most kind!”

 

 Dobby bowed to them, then hopped off the chair and darted into the crowd of elves. Ginny picked up a fried pickle, then looked at Harry with a deep frown.

 

  _What do you think?_

 

 Harry, his own mouth turned downward in a similar expression to hers, shrugged. _I think we need more information._

 When they left the kitchens for Herbology fifteen minutes later, they met up with Neville at the doors, who prattled on about something Luna had been talking about, even though neither Ginny nor Harry were really listening, only to stop when someone behind them shouted: “Potter!”

 

 A skinny third year ran up to them, half panting and leaning on their knees. “Professor Dumbledore,” they said, “wants to see you two in his office.”

 

   “Now?” Harry asked.

 

   “Yes!” the third year said.

 

 Ginny and Harry exchanged glances, then they shrugged, waved to Neville, and started up the stairs. It was probably about Malfoy, Ginny reasoned. When they entered the office, though, it became quickly apparent that it wasn’t. Firstly, Sirius and Remus were also there, secondly, there was a goblin standing in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

 

   “Good afternoon,” Boldblood said to them. “Now that Mr. and Mrs. Potter are here, Professor, may we please get this over with?”

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore said. “Please, show them what you found.”

 

 Boldblood withdrew from the satchel on his shoulder a velvet box, a long, flat jewelry box, which he set upon the Headmaster’s desk. The box looked innocent, but the goblin’s normally impassive face was wrinkled with distaste and what might have possibly been fear. He flicked it open, revealing inside a silver locket, its face inlaid with emeralds in the shape of an _S_.

 

   “This was found in Mr. Black’s vault,” Boldblood said, his voice laden with displeasure. “I brought it here immediately, as it is highly illegal to knowingly harbor a Horcrux.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _so the chapter title is both accurate to what happens and also to the lack of one consistent theme to contribute to the title. so, ish happens?_


	62. History Does Not Repeat, But It Rhymes

**Chapter Sixty-Two**

**History Does Not Repeat, But It Rhymes**

**Harry**

 

 

   “Say what now?” Sirius asked.

 

   “A Horcrux!” Boldblood practically shrieked. “A Horcrux, Mr. Black! Was found in your vault!”

 

   “I didn’t put it there!” Sirius insisted.

 

   “It was still there!” Boldblood snapped. “Whose even is it? Certainly, it wasn’t either Orion or Walburga Black, as they are both dead.”

 

   “I don’t know!” Sirius said.

 

   “Something must be done about it!” Boldblood shot back.

 

   “I will take care of it,” Dumbledore interrupted. Boldblood and Sirius looked at the Headmaster, who raised an eyebrow.

 

   “Professor,” Boldblood said, slightly muted, as if his teeth were clenched, “what would you suggest I do with it? I cannot simply hand it over to you, it’ll have to be reported to the Ministry, there are procedures for – for dealing with these things!”

 

   “Master Boldblood, I must ask you to forgive me, but we cannot involve the Ministry in this,” Dumbledore said calmly. Boldblood opened his mouth, but Dumbledore held up a hand and the goblin shut his mouth with a snap, his eyes seething. “I have my reasons, please. I believe I know to whom this belongs, and I certainly have methods of destroying it.”

 

   “Destroying – But it’s evidence!”

 

   “You must trust me,” Dumbledore told Boldblood. “It does not belong to any of the Blacks, certainly, and I cannot say why it was inside their vault, but it must be destroyed.”

 

   “Whose is it, then?” Boldblood snapped.

 

   “I fear you would not believe me if I told you,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “Try me!” the goblin snapped. “Give me a good reason to break half a dozen laws and risk even the ire of my own superiors, let alone yours!”  


   “It most likely belongs to Tom Riddle,” Dumbledore sighed.

 

 Boldblood blinked at him. The goblin glanced at Harry, then at the locket, then looked back at Dumbledore. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore said.

 

 Boldblood clenched his jaw visibly, then he shut the lid of the jewelry box with a snap. “All the more reason to turn it over to the Ministry.”

 

   “The Ministry would lock it away in the Department of Mysteries and never speak of it again!” Dumbledore replied, his voice fluctuating as if he were attempting to maintain coolness. “You have seen their reaction to the Kings Cross Massacre, you have seen the refusal to believe both myself and Mr. Potter. The Ministry would not destroy it, and it would only allow Voldemort to gain further power.”

 

 Boldblood flinched at the name. The goblin avoided Dumbledore’s eyes for a long moment, then he exhaled heavily, and he pushed the box closer to Dumbledore.

 

   “It is against my better judgment to do this,” Boldblood said carefully. “But I remember last time. An associate of mine lost a sister at Kings Cross. I will trust you.”

 

 Dumbledore looked relieved as he pulled the box closer to him. “My deepest gratitude, Master Boldblood.”

 

   “And I shall have my staff do a quiet search through other vaults belonging to previous supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Boldblood added. “We will bring any more that we find to you, rather than the Ministry. But if this proves to be false, if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named truly is dead and you are lying to me, understand that I will go to the Ministry immediately and reveal all of this information.”

 

   “I understand,” Dumbledore said with an inclination of his head. “Thank you, Master Boldblood. The Wizarding World will thank you as well, in time.”

 

 Boldblood gave a short bow, then turned to the Floo. Dumbledore swept out of his chair and offered an ornate jar of Floo powder to the goblin, who took it and cast into the grate. With a flash of green flame, the goblin vanished.

 

 Immediately, Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed it at the jewelry box. Harry took an unconscious step to the side, his arm lifting to cover Ginny so, if he needed to, he could swiftly push her behind him. Sirius and Remus both drew their wands, leveling them at the box, and after a second, Ginny nudged Harry and they drew their wands as well. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the jewelry box opened. The locket gleamed innocently in the lights.

 

   “Remus,” Dumbledore said. “If you would please, remove the Sword of Gryffindor from the display case behind you.”

 

 Remus moved instantly, keeping his face and wand on the jewelry box. He opened the case, took the sword, and then turned the hilt to Dumbledore, who took it and held it level at the locket’s face.

 

   “Harry, you will recall what happened when you destroyed the first Horcrux, yes?”

 

 Harry gave a jolt, then nodded. “Tom tried to kill me.”

 

   “That one, I believe, was likely the strongest of his Horcruxes as it was likely the first created. This one might have a little less bite. Be on your guard, regardless.”

 

 Dumbledore set the tip of the sword on the velvet bed of the box and slid it forward until it collided with the gold locket.

 

 A loud, piercing screech ripped the air; Harry clapped his hands over his ears as the scream continued, even when Dumbledore jerked the blade away from the locket’s face. The noise was unbearable, a whistling hiss that rolled and twisted and pounded against his skull; a hiss, it was a hiss. And even as it kept going, it became more and more snake-like, until –

 

   “Hey!” Harry shouted.

 

 The scream stopped. The others looked at him, their eyes wide. Ginny gave a little gasp and clapped her hands over her mouth.

 

   “Is it speaking Parseltongue?” Dumbledore asked.

 

   “Yeah,” Harry said. “It called us fools. Wait, how did you know?”

 

   “Because you just shouted in Parseltongue,” Dumbledore answered.

 

   “Oh. Right. Erm. Do I talk to it?”

 

   “No,” Dumbledore said. “If it speaks Parseltongue, that is all the proof we need.”

 

 Dumbledore shifted his grip on the sword, turning it underhand and raising it up over the locket.

 

    “ _YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU DO!”_

 Even Dumbledore faltered. Harry raised his wand again, ready to cast a Shield Charm.

 

   _“YOU ARE WRONG, OLD MAN.”_

 Dumbledore’s face went slack. Sirius, Remus, Harry, and Ginny all turned in tandem to stare at Dumbledore.

 

   _“YOU ARE WRONG, YOU WERE WRONG ALL ALONG. YOU WERE WRONG THEN AND YOU ARE WRONG NOW.”_

   “I… What?” Dumbledore said in a whisper, a whisper that sounded deafening in the sudden silence left by the voice coming from the locket.

 

   _“I SEE YOUR HEART, OLD MAN. I SEE WHAT YOU FEAR MOST. HISTORY MAY NOT REPEAT ITSELF, OLD MAN, BUT IT WILL ALWAYS RHYME.”_

 Dumbledore’s eyes flashed, and he brought the tip of the blade down with a fierce shout on the gold locket.

 

 The blade bounced off.

 

 Dumbledore staggered back as laughter echoed throughout the room, cold and humorless laughter, Harry had heard that laughter before, Ginny had heard that laughter before, harsh like daggers into soft flesh, uncaring like a thousand wasps with a vendetta, like spittle flying in your face and a boot crushing fingers; his wife’s mind was racing, her heart pounding heavily, remembering cruel laughter and her own wand causing slashes and cuts to form letters –

 

   _“DO YOU SEE NOW, OLD MAN? I AM NOT A PETTY TRINKET TO BE DAMAGED BY YOUR LETTER OPENER. DO YOU SEE NOW, OLD MAN? YOU ARE NO MORE WISE NOW IN YOUR AGED YEARS THAN YOU WERE IN YOUR YOUTH. WOULD YOU FEEL BETTER IF I OFFERED A NOOSE TO YOU INSTEAD OF SILK SCARVES AND LET YOU GROVEL AT MY FEET, OLD MAN?”_

 Dumbledore’s face, white as the grave, turned green, and the sword clattered from his fingers as he staggered backwards as if his age had suddenly crashed upon him and doubled; Ginny, even with her panic rising, darted forward and caught the Headmaster before he could fall to the ground, steadying him. The laughter echoed again, and Harry grabbed the hilt of the sword.

 

   _“AH, THE BOY WHO LIVED. DO YOU THINK THAT YOUR NOBLE RECKLESSNESS AND FOOLISH SELF-SACRIFICES WILL DO YOU BETTER THAN WISDOM FROM AN ADLED, OLD MAN?”_

   _“Stop!”_ Harry shouted, only, it was less of a shout, more of a hiss.

 

 The laughter subsided to a chuckle.

 

   “How do I kill it?” Harry said to Dumbledore. The Headmaster said nothing; Harry glanced at him, but Dumbledore had a far away look of horror on his face, and Harry realized that he would be of no help to him then. Harry steeled his grip and stepped closer to the locket. He could see the hinges, the clasp holding it closed. If the doors had kept it safe from the sword, perhaps inside…

 

 _“Open,”_ Harry hissed.

 

   _“Ha, ha.”_

 

 The doors of the locket sprang open and Harry raised the sword, and from the depths of the locket spewed an inky black mist. Harry darted away from its groping fingers, then raised his gaze as the black mist rose through the air, condensing into a figure, a high brow, elegant hair, a thin smirk. Harry’s eyes widened.

 

   _“Pride always comes before the fall, Harry Potter.”_

   “Sounds like you should be taking your own advice,” Harry said.

 

 The figure smiled, its mouth parting the mist and bearing white. _“Then perhaps a better anecdote would suit you better. You have dug your own grave, perhaps? Or have walked right back into your cupboard?”_

 Harry suddenly couldn’t breathe, the ceiling and walls pressed in on him, a musty stench of old coats and rafters filled his nose, he felt spiders pass over his feet, which were suddenly bare, the light was fading –

 

 Ginny’s hand gripped his, and just as quickly he was wrenched back to the wide, spacious office; he took a great gulp of air and leaned into her side. The laughter was back, louder and colder still, and when Harry looked up, Ginny’s eyes were wide and her pupils pinpricks in her own fear. Harry clenched his jaw and put a hand on her face.

 

  _On three._

 

 She nodded.

 

 Harry raised the sword, Ginny covered his hand with both of hers. _One._

_“Do you now see, little boy? You are useless.”_

_Two._

_“There is nothing you can do. You are but a child trying to stop a hurricane with his bare hands.”_

_Three._

 

 Harry swung the sword downward; the mist screeched, the blade stuck the locket, and it cleaved in two. Time seemed to freeze, then patches of red sparks appeared in the mist. The screech grew louder, and louder, ear-splittingly loud, then it all stopped in the time it took to blink.

 

 Harry blinked. He drew a breath in, then let it out. He turned his eyes to meet Dumbledore’s face. The Headmaster licked his lips and let out a shuddering exhale. He raised his wand, and the jewelry box snapped shut.

 

   “Thank you, Harry,” Dumbledore rasped. “I think… I think it would be best if you went down to see Madam Pomfrey. Check for any injuries. Professor Lupin, Black, if you would escort them.”

 

   “Are you alright, Professor?” Remus asked carefully.

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore said, but in his haste, he neglected to control the tremors in his voice. “I am fine. Go now, please.”

 

 Harry set the sword on Dumbledore’s desk, then backed away carefully, still watching Dumbledore’s ashen expression. Remus touched his shoulder, then he and Sirius gently pushed Harry and Ginny from the office.

 

   “What was it talking about?” Harry asked the minute they stepped past the gargoyles and the wall melted back into place. “History always rhymes? What was that about?”

 

 Remus and Sirius exchanged glances, then they shrugged in unison. “I honestly don’t know,” Sirius told them. “Come on, let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.”

 

   “We’re fine,” Harry said.

 

   “You don’t look fine,” Remus told him, “you look like you’ve just had a near death experience.”

 

   “Technically, we sort of did,” Ginny said. Harry only squeezed her hand.

 

 In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey took them to beds and offered them Pepper-up Potions without asking questions. Remus and Sirius vanished, and they were left to sit together with the last drops of the Pepper-up, trying to comprehend what just happened.

 

 _You destroyed a Horcrux,_ Ginny reasoned.

 

_But Dumbledore…_

_Is going to be fine. He can take care of himself, Harry._

_No, that’s not what I mean. He seemed… lost. I don’t know. Vulnerable._

_Those things do their best to make you falter, Harry._

_But what was it talking about? What did it know that could make Dumbledore falter like that?_

 

  _A noose instead of silk scarves..._

_What does that mean?_

 When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Madam Pomfrey ushered them out, “Make sure you don’t strain yourselves again anytime soon, Potter and Potter,” she said as she closed the door.

 

 They didn’t strain themselves, in fact, they were distracted all through Transfiguration and McGonagall had to snap at them to pay attention multiple times. Harry kept thinking about Dumbledore, trying to puzzle out everything the Horcrux had said. By the end of the period and classes for the day, both Harry and Ginny were feeling very tired indeed, and declined Ron and Hermione’s offer to join them out on the grounds to work on homework by the lake. (Though, in their absence, Ginny doubted Ron would stay focused on homework very long, and likely would do his best to distract Hermione to more pleasant activities than homework.) They took the long walk back up to Gryffindor Tower, finding the common room almost completely empty, except for Demelza Robbins and Colin Creevey, who both stopped speaking the second they walked in.

 

   “Afternoon,” Harry said politely to them.

 

   “Hi,” Colin said. He was blushing; Harry heard Ginny wondering what was making the boy blush. “Erm, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’ve got your wedding album.”

 

   “Oh,” Ginny said, “oh, right.”

 

   “It’s just up in my dorm,” Colin said, standing up. “We can go get it now, if you’d like.”

 

   “That would be lovely,” Ginny said.

 

 Demelza rose too. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, Colin Daniel Creevey.”

 

   “Mel, please,” Colin shot, and the girl scowled, her dark eyes narrowing. Harry glanced between them, his brow furrowed, but Colin swiftly shook his head and made for the stairs.

 

   “Are you two alright?” Ginny asked once the door to the stairs had shut behind them.

 

   “Oh, fine,” Colin said airily, “absolutely dandy, perfect as peaches, wonderful, why do you ask?”

 

   “Erm, you seemed to be in a bit of a tiff?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Friendly banter,” Colin said, though his tone wasn’t very convincing.

 

 Ginny raised her eyebrows at Harry, who sighed, disliking having another mystery added to the list of things to ponder over lately. In the fourth year’s dorm, Colin unlocked his trunk and pulled from the bottom a package tied with string. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “And there’s a framed photo for your mantle or wherever as well,” he added.

 

   “Thank you,” Harry said. “I’ll get the money to you as soon as possible, I’m sorry it took so long; things have been… chaotic, as of late.”

 

   “It’s alright,” Colin said with a shrug. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded doing it for free; I had a wonderful time.”

 

   “We appreciate it, though,” Ginny said, then she stepped forward and pulled Colin into a hug. “And if you ever need to have a chat with someone, you know where to find us. I make an excellent cup of tea.”

 

   “Thanks,” Colin said with a weak smile. “Erm. I should get back to Demelza. Have a good afternoon.”

 

   “You too,” Harry said, heading for the door. On the stairs, Ginny hesitated, watching as Colin disappeared down the stairs. “Love?” he said.

 

   “It’s not like them to fight,” Ginny said. “They’re always attached at the hip.”

 

   “Maybe it’s a lover’s quarrel.”

 

   “No,” Ginny sighed. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

   “Why?”

 

 She turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Because Colin joined the mass coming out of the closet on Valentine’s Day.”

 

   “Really?” Harry said.

 

   “Harry, love, you are very oblivious and I love you, but half the time you’re clueless.” She kissed his cheek and took the package from him, walking up the stairs with a swing in her step. Harry paused, leaned to the side a little, then grinned at the excellent view up her skirt he was getting from a few steps behind.

 

   “Stop staring at my bum and get up here,” Ginny called.

 

   “Yes, dear,” he answered.

 

 In their sitting room, Ginny set the package on the coffee table and dropped onto the sofa. Harry took a seat beside her, though with a little more grace, and pulled the package a little closer to work the knots in the string out. With the string off, they pushed away the brown paper and revealed the contents inside.

 

 First was a square frame. Their own faces, red from champagne and their blushing, were nose to nose and grinning at each other, pausing every few moments to share a kiss. Harry smiled warmly, remembering that moment. He picked up the frame and stood, walking over to the mantle, he set it up over the fire.

 

   “Perfect,” Ginny said. He joined her on the couch again, and they turned their eyes on the album. The cover was a rich cream, trimmed in brass and embossed with the words _Our Wedding_. They opened it, revealing the first picture to be a shot of the two of them dancing, the light bouncing off of Ginny’s hair and Harry’s grin a mile wide; in the picture, Harry spun Ginny, then pulled her close for a kiss.

 

   “Colin does candid shots so well,” Ginny said, her smile soft.

 

 They turned through the album, their smiles never fading, and it was if the moment in Dumbledore’s office had never happened. When they reached the end, it was the very photo that was sitting on their mantle, beneath it the words _And They Lived Happily Ever After._

 

   “Happily ever after,” Harry murmured.

 

 Staring at the words, it struck him how much he really wanted that to be true, and how unlikely it was. With Voldemort back and unafraid to act out anymore, happily ever after was a fairytale they couldn’t afford.

 

 Saying nothing, Ginny took his hands and pulled him up off the couch. She pressed her lips to his, then pulled him out of the sitting room and to their bed, pushing him down and continuing to kiss him. Her lips were a distraction, he knew, from thinking about their darkening future. In the moment, it would work, but when it was over…

 

 They went to dinner, where the students were loud and lively again, but Harry didn’t have the heart to join in. He picked at his food, thinking about Horcruxes and Dumbledore’s white face, so much that he didn’t notice Ginny nudging him for nearly a minute.

 

 He looked up, frowning, but she just pointed across the hall. He followed her finger, to the teacher’s table; at first, he saw Dumbledore’s empty chair and wondered if that was what she was pointing out, then she nudged him again and he adjusted his gaze left. She was pointing at Snape, whose scowling face was directed at the Slytherin table. She moved her finger and he followed it with his eyes, to where Malfoy was sitting, deserted and alone, staring at a plate of food that he was absently rearranging with his fork.

 

  _The plot thickens,_ Ginny thought humorlessly.

 

  _I almost pity him_ , Harry thought, then stopped. He did almost pity him. Malfoy had been looking forlorn and morose ever since Christmas, his friends had seemingly abandoned him, and Snape was trying to pressure him into doing something he didn’t want to. It was like all the hot air had been sucked out of him and he didn’t have a clue what to do with himself any longer. It was almost pitiable, but not enough.

 

  _I almost wish someone would go cheer him up_ , Ginny added. _Nobody deserves to be that miserable._

_Not even Malfoy?_ Harry thought, a touch of bitterness tainting the words, and Ginny turned to look at him, her eyes hard.

 

 _Nobody,_ she repeated. _Not even Malfoy_.

 

  _You’re a better person than I,_ Harry answered, a little shamefully, and she deflated a little, turning away and letting her head fall onto his shoulder.

 

_If you let the hurt they cause turn you bad, they win. If you can keep your head up and refuse to drop to their level, you win._

 Harry didn’t answer the thought; he shoved a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and scowled, looking rather like Snape, but with less greasy hair.


	63. Time Goes Marching On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _how’s it going bros, it’s pewdiepie! wait no it’s not, it’s senatorofsorcery/moonythejedi. but how is it going, lovelies? all fine? gone back to school yet? yes, no, whichever, this new chapter’s unfortunately probably just as chaotic as back to school week. also not happy. i have to give you a warning, there is a graphic description of a past massacr later in the chapter, reader discretion is highly advised._

* * *

 

**Chapter Sixty-Three**

**Time Goes Marching On**

**Ginny**

 

 

 February ended with a blizzard that piled four feet of snow on the grounds and actually caused a drift so large, the great oak doors to the grounds could not be opened against the weight of the snow. Despite the cheering student body, the sun was weak as ever for the first full week of March and it snowed constantly, but by Saturday, it had gained a little strength and the snow had melted just enough that the doors leading to the grounds could be shoved open and the students escaped for snowball fights, and many a snowman could be seen littering the grounds; a few had been enchanted into life by someone, which Ginny suspected to be Angelina, and were chasing Fred and George across the grounds.

 

 But while everyone else was off pelting each other with snow, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were all in the Transfiguration classroom with Sirius and Professor McGonagall, working on their Animagus transformations.

 

   “This is weird,” Harry said for the eighth time that morning, prodding the scaley tail that had replaced his legs.

 

   “You look like a mermaid,” Ginny told him helpfully.

 

   “Shut up, you’re pink,” he grumbled, which, while true, her legs and forearms had been replaced by furry pink and purple-striped limbs ending in sharp claws, caused her to whack him with a paw.

 

   “This feels so strange!” Hermione said, flapping her arms that had become wings.

 

   “You feel strange!” Ron called, craning his neck to look at the shaggy red tail sticking out from his trousers.

 

   “It’s not so bad,” Luna mused, stroking the strangely long and pointed cat ears that had appeared in her hair with her own paws.

 

   “It’s strange,” Neville told her, looking at his clawed paws with wide eyes.

 

   “Close your eyes and clear your minds, revert back to your normal body and try to transform again,” McGonagall called. “You’re all very close to managing a complete transformation, just keep trying.”

 

Ginny gave her pink limbs a grimace, then leaned back in her chair and shut her eyes, concentrating on becoming wholly human once more. It was much easier going back to normal than it was transforming into the Cheshire cat, so it only took a few seconds. When she opened her eyes again, all of them had returned to normal. McGonagall nodded at them encouragingly, and Ginny closed her eyes, focusing on her form. She was determined to get it.

 

 Upon opening her eyes, she was startled by how strange everything looked suddenly; much of the color had drained from the room and several far away objects were very blurry. She looked around, then met Harry’s eye, who yelped and fell off his chair.

 

 She opened her mouth to say _“What?”_ , and all that came out was a meow.

 

   “You’ve got a cat’s head!” Harry said.

 

Ginny gasped, or rather meowed again, and McGonagall approached holding a mirror. She looked into it, seeing quite distinctly the head of a cat, somehow still too large for her own body, with a wide mouth and faintly pink fur striped with a pale reddish purple. The eyes were brown, almost amber. Her mouth fell open, exposing sharp teeth.

 

   “You’re nearly there,” McGonagall said, “you’ve still to transform your torso, but you’re nearly there.”

 

 Ginny looked down at her body, seeing again the furry limbs and clawed paws. It was still strange. She looked around the room, examining the others’ progress. Harry’s legs and lower body had become one scaly black tail, and since he’d fallen off the chair, he was having Ron help him get back up. Ron had his tail again and his ears seemed to have grown long and furry. Luna’s arms and legs were transformed; she looked quite pleased with herself. Neville had his claws back, though now his legs and lower body had transformed, revealing that he too had a tail, though shorter than Ron’s. At first, Ginny didn’t see Hermione, then a regal looking eagle owl fluttered off Hermione’s chair and landed on Ron’s shoulder.

 

   “Hermione!” Harry shouted.

 

 The owl gave a pleased hoot.

 

   “Well done, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said. “Now, transform back to normal and do it again, the more you do it, the easier it gets.”

 

 McGonagall dismissed them an hour later; Ginny didn’t manage to get her head to transform again, but Hermione had succeeded in transforming fully two more times. She was beaming all the way back up to Gryffindor tower.

 

   “I can’t wait until next Saturday,” she was saying, “do you think she’ll let us attempt it on our own soon?”

 

   “Maybe you,” Ron grumbled, jealously, Ginny guessed, and she elbowed him, giving him a look. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed.

 

   “You’ll get it eventually, Ron,” Hermione said to him, which only made him huff again.

 

 The day continued rather mundanely; Ron, Dean, and Seamus tried to get them to join them outside for a snowball fight, and though Neville and Hermione went, Harry and Ginny remained inside, neither of them feeling like a romp in the snow. They had another lesson with Dumbledore that evening, and after the last time they’d seen him, the both of them were concerned.

 

 But when they entered Dumbledore’s office, the room was empty. Harry and Ginny exchanged glances before stepping hesitantly inside. Fawkes trilled a note at them, and the office fell into silence.

 

   “Hello?” Harry called.

 

 In the distance, they heard something move. Then: “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

 

 Ginny glanced at Harry, who shrugged and took a seat. Ginny took the other chair before the desk, folding her hands in her lap to wait. After a minute, Dumbledore appeared in a doorway on the second level.

 

   “Thank you for your patience,” Dumbledore said, crossing to a staircase and making his way down to them. “I was doing some additional research.”

 

   “It’s fine,” Harry said as Dumbledore took his seat behind the desk. “Er, are you alright?”

 

 Dumbledore hesitated for half a second, then gave Harry a kindly smile and inclined his head to him. “I’m quite well, thank you. Now, to business.”

 

 Harry glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, then back to Dumbledore.

 

   “Did McGonagall talk to you?” Ginny asked. “About Malfoy?”

 

  “She did mention something to me, yes,” Dumbledore said. “But let us discuss –”

 

   “Malfoy’s up to something, Professor!” Harry interrupted. “And it’s got to be something horrible if even he’s reluctant to do it!”

 

   “I am fully aware of Mr. Malfoy’s situation, Harry,” Dumbledore answered calmly, “you needn’t worry about him.”

 

   “But, professor, he must be doing something for Voldemort, that’s the only explanation,” Harry insisted.

 

   “I am capable of handling whatever Mr. Malfoy may or may not be up to,” said Dumbledore.

 

   “He is up to something!” Harry snapped. “It’s got to be something dangerous!”

 

   “He might be trying to hurt someone!” Ginny said.

 

   “Mr. Malfoy’s actions are not any of your concern,” Dumbledore replied, and his tone was sharp and cold. “I am aware of his situation and am capable of handling it, you might recall that I have much more experience in this area than either of you two combined.”

 

 Harry and Ginny went quiet. Harry dropped his gaze to the ground, mollified, but Ginny frowned at the Headmaster, whose expression had abruptly become unreadable.

 

   “Professor Snape and I are keeping an eye on Mr. Malfoy, while the two of you should refrain from doing so,” Dumbledore told them, his voice quieter, yet no less cold. He was scolding them. “Do not think I do not know that you two have been meddling; Dobby has told me about your questions to him.”

 

 Ginny dropped her gaze.

 

   “This is not any of your business,” Dumbledore continued.

 

   “Yes, sir,” Harry murmured.

 

 Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Ginny, who nodded.

 

   “Thank you,” he said. “Now, if we may discuss what I actually brought you here for?”

 

   “Yes, sir,” they answered.

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “Good. Your Occlumency training is nearly finished and you are due to begin studying Legilimency, however, I will be handing your remaining lessons to the tutelage of Professor Snape. You will meet with him every Thursday evening for the time being.”

 

 Ginny jerked her gaze upward, her mouth dropping open.

 

   “But, professor!” Harry stammered; Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing him.

 

   “There are many things that I must attend to, Harry, and unfortunately I simply do not have time to continue your lessons and do them justice,” Dumbledore explained in a world-weary tone. “Professor Snape is a highly qualified Legilimens, he will be quite capable of ensuring that you have mastered the subject.”

 

   “Sir, no offense, but Snape doesn’t exactly like us,” Harry said.

 

   “Professor Snape is an adult, fully capable of maintaining neutrality,” Dumbledore told them. Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, thinking of every Potions lesson they’d ever had with the man where he’d blatantly played favorites with the Slytherin students.

 

   “Are we at least having a lesson tonight?” Ginny asked, looking back to the Headmaster.

 

   “No, we have another topic for discussion,” Dumbledore answered. “Madam Vance will be instructing you in astral projection and divination, but specifically, she shall be helping you attempt to locate other Horcruxes.”

 

 Ginny blinked. “Really?”

 

   “Yes,” Dumbledore answered. “Your Tuesday meetings with me will be replaced with lessons with Madam Vance to track down the remaining Horcruxes. I will continue in my research, and hopefully, our combined efforts will be successful.”

 

 Harry and Ginny glanced at each other.

 

  _Well, it’s worth a try,_ Ginny thought.

 

_Yeah, but… isn’t it a bit too, I dunno, hocus pocus?_

 Ginny raised an eyebrow. _What’s wrong with hocus pocus?_

_Never mind._

   “In the meantime, I believe I am close to pinpointing a location where Tom may have hidden a Horcrux.”

 

 Ginny snapped to attention and Dumbledore raised both eyebrows, pursing his lips slightly as he let out a soft _hmm._ “I knew that would return your focus to me,” he said sagely.

 

   “Sorry, professor,” Harry said. “Where do you think it is? Which one is it?”

 

   “I cannot be sure of which Horcrux it is, as there are too many variables, but I am narrowing down the locations. There are a handful of places that the women running the orphanage Tom lived at took their charges to where unusual incidents linked to Tom occurred.”

 

   “Unusual how?” Ginny asked.

 

   “Varying from unsettling to largely disturbing,” Dumbledore answered. “In three places, at least one child went missing, simply vanishing for a few hours, only to reappear in some inexplicable place later with either no memory of where they had gone or had been shocked so much they were unable to tell what had happened to them.”

 

  _That’s disturbing alright,_ Harry thought.

 

   “One outing, the last, one of the children was lost and never found again.”

 

 That set Ginny’s teeth on edge. She didn’t want to think too much on all the things Tom had done.

 

   “I’ve ruled out a few places, the orphanage itself, for example, was destroyed in an air raid in 1945,” Dumbledore continued, “and since then, the property’s been used for a variety of things, and now it is a library. The Muggles say it is haunted, but all the information I have on it points to a large explosion of magic in response to some fear or panic, likely Tom himself when he escaped the bomb on the orphanage, and not the presence of a Horcrux.”

 

 Dumbledore said something else, but abruptly, Ginny’s mind was full of screaming; she clapped her hands over ears and fell from her chair to her knees, the screaming wouldn’t stop, and now she could see them, the children huddled in cupboard of a bomb shelter, smell the mold and the sweat, saw the green light filling their eyes as their lives were ended, their souls sucked out of their bodies –

 

   “Ginny, Ginny, come back!”

 

 The screaming wouldn’t stop, they were trying to get out, they were begging to be spared, but he just wouldn’t stop!

 

   “Ginny, you’re alright, you’re here, it’s not real, love!”

 

 But it _was_ real, she could remember it, she could feel the warmth leaving their skin, saw the toddlers and infants crying as the people holding them fell dead, some of them collapsing onto the very children they’d been trying to shelter; God, he’d killed infants!

 

   “Ginny, look at me, look at me, love, it’s not real.”

 

 She felt the urge to vomit, her lungs wouldn’t work; she couldn’t get the images to stop: A seven-year-old girl got kicked in the face and died with her mouth bloody and jaw broken, a kid no older than two was crushed by a falling adult’s weight, a little boy tried to fight back and got blasted across the shelter, his head split with a sickening crack and gray matter mixed with the blood running down the wall, there was fire licking at the bodies, trapping even some that were still alive, and Voldemort let them fall to the flames, the smoke filled her eyes and nose and the screaming was only getting worse –

 

   “Ginny!”

 

 Harry’s face broke the deluge, his eyes wide and a completely different shade of green. Ginny searched his face, then fell forward and crumpled against his chest, her ear pressed close to hear his heart beating, a rapid and steady anthem in her mind that drummed to a beat far removed from the death and the gore, and just as quickly as it had come, it was all gone. She was left with nothing but the facts, the truth of what had happened. Slowly, her breathing calmed and her heart calmed its chatter in her chest. Harry’s heartbeat soothed her.

 

   “Ginny?” Harry whispered.

 

 Ginny swallowed bile and sat up. She realized that she was on the floor, cradled in Harry’s arms, and Dumbledore was kneeling beside them both, his wand drawn. She brushed hair from her eyes and tried to speak, then had to clear her throat to release the tightness there.

 

   “What did you see?” Dumbledore asked softly.

 

   “The orphanage wasn’t struck by a bomb,” Ginny said. “Voldemort killed them all.”

 

 Dumbledore was silent; he shifted his weight and sat on the ground, his wand loose in his hand as he looked away from them.

 

   “How did this happen?” Harry said. “She wasn’t even thinking about that, how did that spring on her that way?”

 

   “I don’t know,” Dumbledore answered. “I – Ginny is a unique case on her own, you must understand. There has never been a situation where the memories in a Horcrux have been left in the mind of the one it possessed. I do not know.”

 

 Ginny turned her face back to Harry, burying her face in his shirt; she inhaled deeply, his scent grounding her, clearing her nose of the scent of smoke and fear.

 

   “I think you should return to your rooms,” Dumbledore said.

 

 She felt Harry nod and then let him pull her to her feet. Her gaze trailed on the ground as they left; she barely noticed the walk back, hardly realized it even when they reached the portrait hole, until they reached the common room and she heard chatter and laughter.

 

 Harry started pulling her to the stairs but she stopped, squeezing his hand for a brief moment.

 

  _Can we sit here for a while? They’re laughing, it sounds… It’s good background noise._

 

 Harry gave a nod and led her to a chair by the fire. Hermione and Ron were sitting there, both of them working on homework. They looked up as she and Harry sat down, Hermione giving them a brief smile before going back to her work, but Ron frowned at her.

 

   “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “You look terrible.”

 

   “Ron!” Hermione hissed.

 

   “She’s fine,” Harry said, wrapping an arm tightly around her shoulders.

 

   “No, I’m not,” Ginny countered. Ron frowned harder and Hermione looked up. “I’m not fine.”

 

 Harry kissed her temple; he was trying, he wanted her to be fine, but saying that she was fine when she wasn't wouldn’t make her fine.

 

   “What happened?” Hermione asked.

 

   “One of Tom’s memories attacked me,” Ginny said after a moment’s hesitation. “He killed a bunch of people and set fire to his orphanage.”

 

   “Merlin’s beard,” Ron murmured. “You saw all that?”

 

 She nodded, then tucked closer to Harry. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and drew her onto his lap, holding her securely. She let her eyes fall shut and looked through his; she felt safe there.

 

   “Dumbledore was talking about places where Voldemort might have hidden things,” Harry said. “And mentioned the orphanage burning down. It came out of nowhere, we’ve no idea why it happened.”

 

   “Ginny, I’m so sorry,” Hermione said.

 

   “I’ll be alright,” she muttered. “It’s… It’ll go away.”

 

   “Well, then let’s talk about something else,” Ron said, “that’ll make it go away faster, right?”

 

   “Ron, that’s not how that works,” Hermione said, but Ginny lifted her head again and nodded to what Ron said.

 

   “Yeah, yeah, that might help,” she said, and Hermione shut her mouth with a snap. She shrugged and closed the book she was holding, then pushed back her hair.

 

   “Alright, how about Malfoy, then?” she said. “Did you have a chance to talk to Dumbledore about him?”

 

   “Yeah,” Harry said sourly, “he told us to mind our own business.”

 

   “Really?” Ron gaped at them. “As if that wanker hasn’t stuck his nose so far up other people’s business he could’ve been a bloodhound if they’d gone missing!”

 

   “That was very descriptive, Ron,” Hermione said, slightly wrinkling her nose.

 

   “It’s true!” Ron insisted.

 

   “Regardless, Dumbledore said you should mind your own business?” Hermione said to them, raising her eyebrows in the prompt. “What else did he say?”

 

   “Well,” Harry sighed, thinking back to it, “he wouldn’t say what Malfoy was up to, but I think he knows all about it. And he said he was capable of dealing with it, since he had more experience than us.”

 

   “Rotten luck,” Ron said. “If it was me, I’d still keep an eye on the nasty little gnat.”

 

   “Well, Dumbledore does have a point,” Hermione said diplomatically, gesturing with her quill as she spoke. “He does have lots more experience dealing with these things, I mean, he had the whole war with Grindlewald let alone the first time You-Know-Who was in power.”

 

 Ginny nodded faintly, then abruptly sat up with a gasp. They all looked at her; Harry raised an eyebrow.

 

   “Grindlewald!” she said. “Remember what the locket said? History may not repeat, but it will always rhyme?”

 

   “What?” said Ron. “What locket? What history?”

 

   “A few weeks ago, one of the Gringotts Goblins found, well, one of Voldemort’s things in Sirius’s vault,” Ginny explained. “Remember, when we had to skip Herbology because Dumbledore needed us?”

   “Yeah, you never did explain why,” Ron said. “So, one of the things was found?”

 

   “Yes, no clue how it got into the Black vaults, but Boldblood found it and brought it to Dumbledore,” Ginny continued. “We destroyed it, but it talked to us. It said a whole bunch of things to Dumbledore, it kept calling him old man and said he was wrong, that he’d been wrong then and he was wrong now.”

 

   “What’s that got to do with Grindlewald?” Harry said. “I thought it was talking about something he’d done last time.”

 

   “I know, but it didn’t make sense, did it?” Ginny countered. “There wasn’t any point where Dumbledore made a huge mistake, except maybe when he didn’t see that Pettigrew was the spy and not Sirius. And it talked about how Dumbledore wasn’t any wiser than when he was young!”

 

   “What was the huge mistake?” Hermione asked.

 

    “It said that history wouldn’t repeat, but it would rhyme,” Ginny explained, “and then it asked Dumbledore if it would make him feel better if it offered him a noose instead of silk scarves and let him grovel.”

 

   “Oh!” Ron gasped. “You’re right!”

 

   “What?” Hermione demanded, frowning in clear displeasure that Ron knew something she didn’t. “What was it?”

 

   “When Grindlewald was doing his campaign of wizards before muggles, people kept begging for Dumbledore to go and fight him, but it took decades for him to do it,” Ron told her.

 

   “And because it took him so long to fight Grindlewald, he managed to get a major following and then when the Muggles had their war, Grindlewald capitalized on it,” Ginny added. “France and Germany especially got decimated, and Grindlewald swooped in and took over!”

 

   “Hundreds of people died because of that,” Ron said. “So many people said that if Dumbledore had just confronted Grindlewald earlier, then he wouldn’t have been able to use the Muggles war to wipe out all his enemies and take over.”

 

   “But what does that have to do with silk scarves?” Harry asked.

 

 Ginny faltered. “I have no clue.”

 

 Ron shrugged. “Me neither. Maybe Dumbledore spent some time modeling fashion in the early 1900’s?”

 

   “I doubt that,” Hermione said. “Silk was rarely used in wizarding fashion until the 80’s, not even Muggles liked silk during the pre-war period. I mean, maybe he was talking about women’s scarves, the ones they used when they went driving?”

 

   “I don’t think so,” Ginny said.

 

   “The only other use of silk scarves specifically I can think of is in some BDSM practices, but –” Hermione broke off and flushed deeply; she clapped her hands over her mouth and blinked, wide-eyed. They all stared at each other for a second’s silence, then Hermione slowly lowered her hands. “I mean, I know nothing about that.”

 

 Ginny let out a nervous laugh and tried very hard not to notice Ron’s thoughtful expression. “Well, I doubt that has any relevance.”

 

   “No relevance, naturally,” Hermione said, her cheeks still dark. “Erm…”

 

   “Erm,” Ginny echoed.

 

 Ron abruptly cleared his throat and crossed his legs, leaning forward and propping his chin on his fist. “Anyway, lots of people thought Dumbledore screwed up big time with Grindlewald, maybe he’s afraid of it happening again?”

 

   “Yeah, maybe,” Harry said. They were all avoiding eye contact at that point.

 

   “I, erm, have to go check on something,” Hermione said, shoving her books back into her bag. “I think I left my Potions essay upstairs, I ought to proof read it, some more. Erm, goodnight!”

 

 Hermione scurried up the girls’ stairs. Ron made a point of opening a book and beginning to read with a furrowed brow. Ginny sighed and patted Harry’s shoulder before getting up.

 

   “See you upstairs in a minute. I’m going to make tea,” she said, and followed Hermione up the stairs, though taking care not to go too quickly so she wouldn’t catch up to Hermione. She heard a door slam somewhere and assumed that the coast was clear by then, so picked up her pace. At the next landing, she ran into Demelza Robins. Literally, they ran into each other; Demelza fell and Ginny grabbed her arms to stabilize her.

 

   “Careful, now,” Ginny warned with half a laugh, “where’s the fire?”

 

   “In there,” Demelza said, pointing over her shoulder to the dorm room she’d apparently just left – 4th-year girls’, Jameson, Finch, Robins, and Wallace. “Maisy’s got a lady friend.” Her wide eyes and paled olive skin told the rest of the story.

 

   “Oh, Lord,” Ginny chuckled, “how about you come upstairs with me and have a cup of tea, then? If you’re lucky, one of them will remember a silencing charm or they’ll be done entirely soon.”

 

   “Oh, please,” Demelza said, looping her arm through Ginny’s. “I’d need a good strong cuppa after what I just heard.”

 

   “I’ll take your word for it,” Ginny said, starting back up the stairs. “Who’s her girlfriend?”

 

   “Williams, the reserve Keeper for Gryffindor,” Demelza answered. “Sometimes I can tell what Maisy sees in her, she’s got biceps like cannons and thighs that could crush skulls, but, ‘course, I prefer blokes.”

 

   “I understand completely,” Ginny replied. After another minute, they reached the top of the stairs and the door leading to the two-person apartments.

 

   “I’ve always wondered what was past this door,” Demelza commented as they neared it. “I never opened it, though.”

 

   “It’s just the rooms for married students, but the Head Girl or Boy can live up here,” Ginny told her. “And I think Hollins’ friend Greenley lives up here too.”

 

   “Yeah, Greenley’s her girlfriend,” Demelza said. “I was sat next to them on Valentine’s Day.”

 

 Ginny nodded, she’d figured that was the case for quite a while. She let Demelza into the sitting room and gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat. What sort of tea do you prefer, I’ve got quite a few.”

 

   “Earl gray’s fine,” Demelza answered. “With a little bit of sugar, no cream if you wouldn’t mind.”

 

   “Sure,” Ginny said, making her way to the kitchenette. She used her wand to heat the water instantly, then poured two cups of Earl gray, adding sugar to both and cream to one. She’d make Harry a cup later when he came upstairs. Ginny walked back out with the two mugs, her wand held between her teeth, and found Demelza looking at her wedding album, which she’d left on the coffee table. Demelza was smiling at the photos, turning them slowly. Ginny set the mugs down, taking her wand back out of her mouth, and her friend quickly closed the book.

 

   “Sorry,” she said, “I was curious.”

 

   “Oh, it’s fine,” Ginny said. She sipped at her tea and looked at the empty hearth, then lifted her wand and pointed it at the grate. A fire sprung up immediately, filling the room with a warm glow.

 

   “This is good tea,” Demelza said after a moment, “nice and strong.”

 

   “Thanks,” Ginny said. She leaned back against the sofa cushions and inhaled steam from her mug. She was fine, then. This was what it took to drive the shadows away. She looked back to Demelza and after a moment, asked her a question. “What were you and Colin arguing about? The other day, when he gave us the album?”

 

 Demelza frowned into her tea and then sighed. “Honestly, I can’t tell you. Colin’s, well, I feel like he’s done something incredibly stupid, but he swears it’s alright and that he’s got it under control.”

 

 Ginny frowned as well. “What’s he done?”

 

   “That’s the thing, I can’t tell anyone,” Demelza answered. “Colin’s only told me because I wheedled it out of him, he didn’t want to. Says he’s been sworn to secrecy.”

 

   “That’s odd,” Ginny mused. “He’s usually willing to talk to anyone about anything.”

 

   “I know.” Demelza sighed again and pushed a hand through her hair. “I keep telling him that – well, I keep telling him that this isn’t the sort of thing he should be all secretive about, but…”

 

 Ginny frowned again; “It’s not something bad, is it? He’s not, like, doing anything harmful or is getting hurt, is he?”

 

   “Oh, no, no,” Demelza said quickly. “No, nothing like that. It’s… It’s just complicated.”

 

   “And you’re sure you can’t tell me?” she asked. “Maybe I could help?”

 

 Demelza shook her head. “No, I don’t think you could. Colin swears that it’s a good thing, what’s happening, but I’m not so sure.”

 

    “You’re just making me more worried,” Ginny said.

 

   “I know, I’m sorry,” Demelza said with a third sigh. “He’s fine, he’s just…” Demelza raised her eyebrows and muttered into her mug as she raised it to her lips, “Doing something dumb.” Or maybe she’d _someone_ , Ginny wasn’t sure.

 

 Just then, the door opened again and Harry stepped inside. He nodded to Demelza and kissed Ginny’s cheek, before going into their bedroom; he sent a quick thought to her, _Bathroom_. Ginny set her now half-drunk cup of tea on the coffee table and stood up. “I’m going to go and make a cup of tea for him. I’ll just be a minute.”

 

   “I’ve just finished mine, I’ll go and head out,” Demelza said as she stood up. “Thanks for the tea, Ginny, and I know you’re worrying about Colin, but I promise he’s alright.”

 

   “If you’re sure,” Ginny said. Demelza nodded and gave her a quick hug.

 

   “Don’t tell him I told you anything, though, he’s been very tight-lipped lately and I don’t want him to tell me any less than he is now,” she said, half laughing, but it was rather humorless. “Goodnight, Gin.”

 

   “Night,” Ginny said, and Demelza left. Ginny stood there for a moment, then sighed and collected Demelza’s mug before going back into the kitchenette. She made Harry a cup of tea and walked back out to the sitting room, then grabbed her own mug before walking into their bedroom. Harry exited the bathroom as she walked in, and she held out his mug to him. He took it with a murmured thanks and a kiss, then when she took a seat on the bed, he followed her. He held out an arm and she shifted to curl into his side. He kissed her hair, and she relaxed in his embrace.

 

   “I honestly have no clue why Hermione knew that about the silk scarves,” she said abruptly.

 

 Harry let out a laugh and shook his head as he took a sip of his tea, and she smiled a little to herself. That was how you chased away the shadows.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _it occurred to me while writing this that up until now i’ve been spelling demelza’s surname wrong; there’s only one B. soz demelza._


	64. 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _‘sup lovelies. yeah, about the new chapter… sorry, my hand slipped._

* * *

**Chapter Sixty-Four**

**76**

 

Dawlish took a deep gulp of his tea, wishing that the warmth of it would manage to pierce the cold that had already set up residence in his chest. He hated shifts at Azkaban, more especially he hated that he had babysit a rookie while at Azkaban. It was like life had personally taken one look at him and decided that dumping shit luck on him was its favorite form of entertainment.

 

   “Bloody cold,” muttered Pierce.

 

   “’Course it’s bloody cold, it’s fuckin’ Azkaban,” Dawlish snapped. He cast a glance left and then right, then drew his wand and cast a wordless Warming Charm over the both of them. Pierce exhaled heavily, his breath visible even with the charm, and gave Dawlish an appreciative smile. Dawlish grunted and stuck his wand back into his robes. He took another gulp of tea. The minute he managed to crawl his way up the hierarchy in the Auror Department to Department Head, he would be changing Azkaban shift details back to sending people round to check on the place instead of full details going and hanging around for eight-hour shifts.

 

   “I don’t even get why we’ve got to be here,” Pierce said in a grumble, his young face set in an unbecoming pout. “Aren’t the bloody Dementors enough for this place?”

 

   “We’re not here to guard the prisoners,” Dawlish grunted. “We’re here to keep an eye on the Dementors, or so Scrimgeour says.”

 

 As if to prove his point, a black cloaked figure floated past the end of their corridor, its aura causing the Warming Charm he’d just performed to fade instantly. Dawlish cast it again, then shook himself vigorously and gulped more from his tea.

 

   “What’re they gonna do, eh?” Pierce asked. “Kiss some unsuspecting sod? Let ‘em, I say. The less of this rot we’ve got, the better.”

 

   “Careful,” Dawlish growled, and Pierce looked up at him, face white. “You might have Dumbledore breathing down your neck about the falsely accused.”

 

 Pierce gave a laugh, and Azkaban managed to make even that sound off-putting. “Fair point, mate.”

 

 Dawlish cast Pierce a look, and the rookie looked down at his feet quickly. Dawlish drained the tea, then vanished the mug and pushed off the wall. “Come on,” he muttered, “time for patrol.”

 

   “Again?” Pierce practically whined.

 

   “Yes, again,” Dawlish snapped, “it’ll keep your joints from freezing over.”

 

 Pierce huffed, but Dawlish raised his eyebrows and the younger wizard gave a nod, pushing off the wall to follow. Dawlish stalked down the corridor, gave a glance in both directions at the intersection, and made his way to a corridor that was open to the outer air. Dawlish looked down at the ground below, at the sea of Dementors milling about the base of the dark tower, then lifted his eyes upward before turning away again. He was almost at the end of the corridor when Pierce gave a sudden gasp behind him and caused him to jump halfway out of his skin.

 

 Turning round, Dawlish aimed a glare and a scathing remark to the younger Auror. “Pierce, what the bloody hell are you on about?”

 

 Pierce grabbed his sleeve, startling Dawlish further, and tightened his grip when Dawlish made to pull away. “Look!” Pierce hissed, his other hand raising, pointing, his finger shaking.

 

 Dawlish groaned internally and turned to look, thinking to himself that the moment they got back to the ministry, he would be reporting to Rourke that Pierce wasn’t ready for Azkaban duty yet, but then his eyes found what Pierce was so afraid of.

 

 A man was hanging in the air, a man with skin like sour milk, with eyes that gleamed red, with long bony fingers and arms outstretched.

 

   “Shit,” Dawlish muttered. He fumbled for his wand, but the cold was suddenly so intense that he could feel his fingers frost over, then a clammy hand clamped on his neck and threw him against the wall. He choked on his own tongue, just as another Dementor lifted Pierce off the ground by his neck and pulled back its hood. Dawlish tried to scream, to shout, his fingers scrabbling to find his wand anywhere, and the Dementor closed its mouth over Pierce’s.

 

 All the color seemed to leave Pierce’s body. His hair, once brown, turned white. His huge, blue eyes turned gray. His skin took on the pallor of sour milk, just like the man hanging in the air ten meters from them. The Dementor lifted its mouth and effortlessly tossed Pierce aside. Dawlish let out a strangled noise as Pierce’s colorless body tumbled over the railing and fell.

 

 The Dementor in front of him, pinning him to the wall, pushed back its hood. Dawlish tried to scream, but no one could hear him, no one could help him either.

 

 The Dementor’s mouth was so cold it burned. The chill that had started in his fingers seeped inward, spreading to his bones and then moving farther in, as if it was seeking the heat, as if it was something sentient trying to fight off the cold itself. It spread from his lips to his tongue to his throat, and then it was flying deep into his chest and there was a burning pain somewhere in him as his heart beat painfully fast. He tried to scream again, but he felt the sudden sensation of his chest being compressed, the air being knocked from his lungs. The cold and the burn met and flashed and the cold won.

 

 Dawlish was falling, and yet he couldn’t find it in him to care. Dawlish hit the ground, he heard bones breaking and saw bits of white sticking out of his flesh, something sticky and gray pooled from his temple. He still didn’t care, even though something in him registered that those were his own bones, that was his own brain matter. The world slowly filled with black, and he was dead.

 

* * *

**Ginny**

 

When she opened her eyes, she stared for a long time at the ceiling while her heart pounded in her chest and she tried to figure out what was wrong. Her dreams had been normal. She hadn’t missed any homework. Harry was snoring. It was a normal Wednesday. Everything was fine?

 

 Harry gave a snort and shifted, throwing an arm over Ginny’s waist. Her heart stilled. Everything was fine. She curled back into Harry’s chest, trying to fall back asleep.

 

  _Beep, beep, beep, beep!_

 

   “Turn the alarm off, love,” Harry mumbled.

 

 Ginny pushed Harry onto his back and reached across him to grope for the alarm clock; her fingers found the snooze button and she slapped at it until the noise stopped. She dropped her head back onto Harry’s chest and cuddled nearer, one of her legs slipping over his knees.

 

_BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!_

 

   “Thought you turned it off,” Harry mumbled again and Ginny groaned into his shirt. She heard him reaching out for it, and it ceased again. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the light from the window.

 

   “Should we get up?” Harry asked.

 

   “No,” she grunted.

 

   “It’s seven.”

 

   “Five more minutes.”

 

   “I have to shower.”

 

   “Ugh,” Ginny said, and rolled over. She felt Harry leave the bed, then buried her face in a pillow and tried to fall asleep again.

 

 She still had the feeling that something was wrong.

 

 Some time later, Harry came and prodded her awake. They got dressed in silence, and the feeling that something was wrong intensified in Ginny’s chest as Harry frowned at everything. He felt it too, she knew, but for the life of her, she couldn’t understand _why_ either of them had that feeling. They made their way down to the common room, where they met Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, and Dean; all of them smiling and acting cheery as can be, the two couples hand in hand and apparently trying to out-romance each other. Seamus kept kissing the back of Dean’s hand and Ron kept randomly complimenting Hermione. Ginny tried to smile, but the off feeling in the back of her head kept it from lasting more than a few seconds, and Harry’s lips stayed set in a frown.

 

   “Something the matter with you two?” Neville asked them. “I know it’s not that lot, half the time you’re twice as bad as them.”

 

   “Nothing,” Ginny told him. Harry kept frowning. Neville’s easy smile faded some, and he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

 

   “Well, at least you’re prepared for today’s lessons,” Neville said. “Flitwick’s having us conjure up thunderstorms today, remember?”

 

   “Yeah,” Harry muttered, and Neville, looking confused, left them be. They took their seats at the breakfast table, Ginny to Harry’s left as usual and sitting across from Hermione. Neville took a seat beside Ginny, saying something about not wanting to have to watch Seamus continue trying to out-do Ron at being romantic.

 

 The off feeling became a knot of unease in the pit of her stomach, and when Seamus accidentally conjured a small firework instead of a rose, Ginny nearly leapt out of her seat and Harry reacted by drawing his wand and throwing an arm around her.

 

   “Sorry,” Seamus said.

 

   “It’s like this,” Hermione said, pulling out her own wand, and just then, the owls swooped in. Hermione demonstrated how to conjure a rose as a large barn owl dropped a copy of the Prophet into her lap and landed on the table to stick out its leg for a knut. Hermione stuffed the rose into Ron’s chest and paid the owl, before unrolling her paper. The owl took off again, and Ginny followed it with her eyes. She felt almost like throwing up.

 

   “Oh my god,” Hermione whispered.

 

   “What?” Ron asked. “Skeeter publish something trashy again?”

 

   “Ooh, I bet she’s somehow got ahold of new evidence saying that Ginny had her baby but gave it away so people wouldn’t realize she had one at all,” Seamus said.

 

   “What is it?” Harry asked stiffly. His knuckles were white on his cutlery.

 

 Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out. Up and down the table and all over the hall, in fact, students unrolled their copies of the Daily Prophet and gasped or swore or just stared in shock at it. Someone at the Hufflepuff table even screamed.

 

 Hermione turned the paper over, showing the large letters in bold on the front page and the flashing, black and white cover photo.

 

**_DEMENTORS AT AZKABAN REVOLT: 40 AURORS AND HUNDREDS OF INMATES DEAD. 76 INMATES MISSING._ **

 

  “Oh, my god,” Dean said.

 

  “Oh, god,” Neville whispered.

 

  “Merlin,” Seamus mumbled.

 

 The image flashed in a loop, a snake curling out of the open mouth of a skull.

 

**_DARK MARK LEFT OVER EMPTY PRISON._ **

 

  “Shit,” Harry whispered.

 

 Suddenly, students were shouting; benches scraped the stone floor as they were shoved back for people to leap to their feet, copies of the _Prophet_ were shoved into the air as pandemonium grew. Ginny looked to the teacher’s table; Dumbledore was on his feet and staring open mouthed at his own copy of the paper, Snape looked like he was about to vomit, Remus was holding Sirius in his arms and Sirius was shaking, in anger or trauma, she didn’t know.

 

 Then a loud bang sounded and the shouting ceased instantly. McGonagall was on her feet, her wand raised high in the air. She was staring at Dumbledore, who for a long moment didn’t even seem to realize that silence had fallen. McGonagall touched Dumbledore’s arm, and the Headmaster finally looked up. He cast his gaze across the hall, then it landed just behind Ginny, on Harry.

 

   “All students will return to their common rooms,” Dumbledore announced. “Classes are canceled for today.”

 

 The silence stretched. Dumbledore drew a hand over his beard, a shaking hand, then he nodded and tore his gaze away from Harry.

 

   “Return to your common rooms. Stay there. I will…” Dumbledore broke off, and he dropped his face, back to the newspaper sitting innocently on his plate, the edge of it resting in a small bowl of porridge. “I will find out the names of those dead, and inform any family members here at Hogwarts. And those missing. Return to your common rooms. Now.”

 

 For a second, for a heartbeat, for the blink of an eye and an intake of breath, no one moved. Dumbledore didn’t even seem to notice; he pushed back his chair and vanished through a side-door in the hall. The teachers and students stared after him for a moment.

 

   “Alright,” called the voice of Head Girl Hollins. “You heard Professor Dumbledore. Back to the common rooms.”

 

 Across the table, Hermione gave a jerk and elbowed Ron, then stepped over the bench and straightened her robes, making her Prefect badge flash. “Gryffindors, this way,” she called.

 

 The students moved, like machinery with barely greased joints. Prefects started calling for their houses, the Head Boy and Girl prodding people to move with barely controlled shouts. Ginny followed the flow of red and black robes to the stairs, Harry’s arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, back up the stairs, back through the corridors, back through the portrait hole.

 

 Harry pulled her into an armchair and she collapsed down beside him. Their friends landed in couches and armchairs around them, and Ginny realized that Hermione still had her copy of the _Prophet_ clutched in her hands _._

 

   “Does it say anything about the inmates that went missing?” Ginny asked hastily.

 

 Hermione started, then looked down and seemed surprised that she was still holding the newspaper. She cleared her throat, then flipped it over and scanned it, then unfolded it and read some more.

 

   “Some are named,” she said.

 

   “Who?” Ginny asked.

 

   “A lot of the maximum security prisoners are gone,” Hermione said. “An ex-Unspeakable named Rookwood, a man linked to a terror-related mass Muggle killing in 1979 called Rosier, the convicted killer of the McKinnon family Rowle, a pair of siblings convicted of multiple terrorist attacks during the 70’s Carrow and Carrow, Antonin Dolohov who killed Fabian and Gideon Prewett, the Lestranges, two brothers and one’s wife, who attacked and tortured into insanity two Aurors in 1982 and also nearly killing their son in the process –”

 

 Hermione broke off. Her eyes darted back, then she slowly looked up, not at Ron or Ginny who were both pale and gaping at the names of their mother’s brothers, but to Neville, who was twice as pale as Ron and Ginny combined.

 

   “The Lestranges,” she repeated thickly, “who tortured Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom?”

 

 Neville’s jaw was clenched.

 

   “And nearly killed their son?” Hermione said, her voice wavering.

 

 Neville dropped his gaze, his eyes watery.

 

   “Neville?” Hermione said. “That’s – It’s not you, it’s your cousin or something, right?”

 

   “I don’t have any cousins,” Neville mumbled in a trembling voice.

 

   “Or – or a completely non-related person?” Hermione asked.

 

 Neville shook his head. Hermione dropped the paper as she clapped her hands over her mouth. It slid off her lap and hit the ground, a photograph of a woman with wild hair, clutching at the bars of her cell screamed in silence up at them.

 

   “You never told us,” Dean whispered.

 

   “It’s not sommat I like to brag about,” Neville snapped, then sniffed. Abruptly, Seamus got up and moved to the couch where Neville was sat. He dropped down beside him and threw an arm around his shoulders. Neville crumbled, his body shrinking, dropping to lean on Seamus and fat tears dropping onto the sofa cushions.

 

 Harry slowly picked up the newspaper. “These people were all Death Eaters,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

 Neville sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Makes sense. Dark mark was put up.”

 

   “Voldemort did this.”

 

 Neville gave a firm nod. “It was just a matter of time,” he said, his voice still thick with emotion.

 

 Harry looked up, meeting Neville’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.

 

 Neville only nodded. “Who else, then? Who else do they know got out?”

 

 Ginny followed Harry’s eyes to the names and her heart skipped a beat in her chest.

 

   “The Sinestras,” Harry said. “A group of people who attacked and killed former Minister Bagnold’s Chief Advisor. And –”

 

 Ginny covered her mouth with her hands. Harry, his fingers trembling, unfolded the paper to show another photo. A rat faced man holding a plate with his name, wincing at the flash and scowling.

 

   “Pettigrew,” Harry mumbled.

 

   “Fucking hell,” Seamus muttered.

 

   “You-Know-Who wants his army,” Neville said coldly. They all looked up at him. “They can’t deny that he’s back now.”

 

   “No,” Harry whispered. His eyes dropped back to Pettigrew’s wincing face. “No, they can’t.”

 

 They fell into silence. The whispers from the rest of the Gryffindors surrounded them; the other students didn’t bother hiding their glances in their direction, specifically towards Harry. The words _You-Know-Who_ , _Potter_ , and _Death Eaters_ were said frequently. Harry just stared at the ground.

 

 At noon, a dozen house elves appeared with trays of sandwiches and pitchers of water. At one o’clock, McGonagall arrived. Several people stood, and McGonagall called on ten people. They followed McGonagall out, and did not return for the rest of the day. After the elves brought dinner, Harry finally stood, silently heading for the stairs. Ginny followed him, and the others said nothing to them as they left.

 

 She made tea back in their room. They sat on their sofa in silence. Harry barely even touched his tea. Ginny didn’t know what they were waiting for, until the fire flashed and Remus’s face appeared.

 

   “Order meeting in Dumbledore’s office,” Remus told them. “You’re expected.”

 

 They rose, and once Remus’s face vanished, they each took a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle, threw it into the grate, announced _Dumbledore’s office_ , and stepped into the fire. They exited the fireplace in Dumbledore’s office, only to follow a line of people up the stairs in the back to the long room they’d met in after Christmas. Remus pulled them aside the minute they walked in, guiding them to chairs near the head of the table where Sirius was already sitting, jaw clenched and white-faced. Dumbledore wasn’t there yet. The room fell silent, as people waited.

 

 Dumbledore finally swept into the room, his face haggard and his shoulders drooping. Ginny clenched her teeth as the Headmaster took a chair at the head of the table, folding his hands on its surface. For a long moment, they all stared at him, waiting.

 

   “I have confirmed the identities of the 76 missing inmates,” Dumbledore said. “They were all Death Eaters.”

 

  No one said anything. They had known that already.

 

   “The Dementors are also missing,” Dumbledore added. “I can only assume Voldemort persuaded them to change allegiances. The Ministry is in chaos. They can’t deny that this is linked to Voldemort, and at the same time, they’re trying to find any other explanations. People are already vying to have Fudge resign, trying to pin it on his choice to allow the Dementors to guard Azkaban in the first place.”

 

   “What are we going to do?” Sirius asked in a raspy voice.

 

   “We’re going to assume that we’re still on our own,” Dumbledore said. “I shall publicly announce that the Order of the Phoenix is operating and accepting new members, and until the Ministry acknowledges that Voldemort is back, we assume that they will not.”

 

 Dozens of voices piped up in raised shouts: “How can they deny that it’s You-Know-Who?” “What about the Dementors?” “What are we going to do about Fudge?” “Can we even trust the Ministry?” “Who’s to say this wasn’t an inside job!”

 

   “Quiet, please!” Dumbledore shouted. “Please!” The din died down, and the Headmaster sighed heavily. “We will do nothing about Fudge. I cannot say for certain that it wasn’t any kind of inside job, but at the same time, I cannot assume that it was. For now, we will keep on our guard.”

 

   “What’s You-Know-Who going to do next?” McGonagall asked.

 

   “I don’t know,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “What about our families?”

 

Ginny turned to look; her mother sat halfway down the table, her hand clasped in her father’s upon the table, their knuckles were both white.

 

   “I will place wards upon your families houses,” Dumbledore said. “Personally.”

 

   “But what are we going to do?” asked Sirius again, louder this time. “And don’t say we’re just going to sit and wait, we’ve got to be doing something!”

 

   “We are doing something, Sirius,” Dumbledore said sharply, “we spread the word. We find allies. We look for weaknesses in Voldemort’s guard.”

 

 Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. Sirius looked away, his jaw tight.

 

   “Regardless of their status on Voldemort, I have been assured that the Auror department is on full lookout for the missing inmates,” Dumbledore said, a subtle movement in subject. “Kingsley?”

 

 Kingsley, the tall black man they’d seen talking with Dumbledore after the previous meeting, rose to his feet and smoothed down the front of his robes as he cleared his throat. “Our department head, Scrimgeour, has set up a new task force to deal with the escaped inmates, eight of our Office Heads including me, twenty Senior Aurors, and another thirty Aurors from lower positions. It’s unofficially stocked with the same people who were searching for traces of You-Know-Who since June. We are looking at anyone and everyone tied to the Death Eaters, from family members to even those who were acquitted of Death Eater status.”

 

 A rush of relief shot through Ginny at Kingsley’s words. At least this Scrimgeour wasn’t a politician concerned with deep pockets over truth.

 

   “We will be searching the houses of all these people to start with,” Kingsley continued. “Starting with Lucius Malfoy’s manor.”

 

   “Good,” Harry muttered under his breath.

 

   “Have all the Death Eaters escaped Azkaban?” Remus asked.

 

   “Strangely, no,” Kingsley said. “There were another 42 inmates who were convicted of terrorist charges relating to the Death Eaters in Azkaban, but these were all low-security inmates. Our current hypothesis is that You-Know-Who wanted only those who would be most useful.”

 

   “Then the Auror Department agrees that this was You-Know-Who?” Ginny’s father asked.

 

   “Scrimgeour officially has no opinion on the matter,” Kingsley said with a wry smile. “And since I’m head of the taskforce, I officially have no opinion on the matter either. As the professor said, until the Minister acknowledges that this is You-Know-Who, we will neither say it is or isn’t. The important thing is that we’re not saying that it _isn’t_ , rather than we’re not saying that it is.”

 

   “So you avoid scrutiny from the Ministry and the press,” McGonagall commented, giving Kingsley a firm nod. “Good.”

 

   “That’s the plan,” Kingsley said.

 

   “What’s Scrimgeour’s unofficial thought, though?” Remus asked.

 

   “Rufus and I are of a like mind,” Kingsley answered. “And fortunately, we’re not too afraid of politics to let that slow us down.”

 

   “Have you got any leads then?” someone asked.

 

   “We’ve ruled out Georg Selwyn’s mother,” Kingsley said heavily, “but that’s about it thus far.”

 

   “It’s only the first day,” said Tonks. Ginny started; she hadn’t even realized that Tonks was there. Her former trainer was sat on Kingsley’s left, her hair a tame shade of brown and her chair pushed back slightly from the table to accommodate her already swollen stomach.

 

   “We’re searching 30 houses tomorrow,” Kingsley said heavily, “and another 30 the day after. We’ll get to the bottom of this as quick as we can.”

 

   “And what if Voldemort’s got his closest people hidden out in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of Muggle London?” Sirius asked.

 

   “Then we storm that abandoned warehouse,” Kingsley answered gravely. “More than half of our department is on this case. We’re on top of it.”

 

 Ginny looked to Dumbledore, then down the table where she could see Abraham and Vanessa Vance seated in silence. She felt useless that she hadn’t seen anything to foreshadow this attack, but she had to be able to help track down the 76 escaped Death Eaters. Mrs. Vance abruptly turned her face, her milky eyes locking onto Ginny’s.

 

  _We’ll do our best, child_.

 

 Ginny gulped and looked away. They had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _some quick background information for those of you who don't know, the auror department is headed by rufus scrimgeour, but it's contained within the department of magical law enforcement which is headed by amelia bones, so scrimgeour answers to madam bones._


	65. Into the Astral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _guess what i'm not dead and looks like writer's block has gone to fuck somebody else up woo-hoo here's your new chapter_

* * *

 

**Chapter Sixty-Five**

**Into the Astral**

**Harry**

 

The meeting disbanded shortly after, and when they descended from the long room they’d been in, the clock showed the time to be quarter past nine. Harry wanted nothing more than to go back to his and Ginny’s room and collapse onto the couch and maybe have a cup of tea, but as he and Ginny started to leave, Dumbledore’s hand fell on his shoulder.

 

   “If you would wait for a few moments, the both of you,” Dumbledore said quietly.

 

 He didn’t elaborate. Harry glanced at Ginny, then nodded and they stepped off to the side. The Order members queued for the Floo glanced at them, and Ginny’s parents stopped long enough to hug and kiss both of them in Molly’s case. Sirius cast them a worried look as he and Remus left and Tonks waved before taking the Floo out. Harry guessed that it was just international Floo travel that was inadvisable for pregnant witches. Eventually, the queue thinned and the last Order member vanished in green flames, leaving them alone with Dumbledore. And Mrs. Vance. Harry felt a sinking feeling in his gut and guessed that this wasn’t going to be a quick chat.

 

   “I am afraid to tell you that we cannot take our time with finding the Horcruxes any longer, let alone tracking down the escaped Death Eaters,” Dumbledore announced, his eyes peering at them wearily over the tops of his glasses. “And as such, we cannot take much longer in training Ginny’s natural prophetic skill.”

 

   “Okay,” Ginny said, as if she were bracing herself. “What do I have to do?”

 

 Dumbledore gave a wave of his wand and the furniture in the center of the office lifted and shifted away. With it now cleared, Dumbledore gave another wave of his wand and conjured cushions. As he did this, Mrs. Vance answered Ginny’s question.

 

   “I shall lead you into a trance, and then to the astral realm. From there, we will capitalize on your connection to He Who Must Not Be Named and your natural gift. If we are lucky, we will be able to see the locations of his Horcruxes.”

 

   “I thought I had to master dream walking before I could astral project?” Ginny asked.

 

   “In an ideal situation, you would,” Mrs. Vance answered, “but in this case, we do not have the time. Instead, I will have to bring you with me, like Side-Along Apparition.”

 

   “I guess that makes sense,” Ginny mumbled.

 

   “Please, sit,” Mrs. Vance said, pointing to the cushions, and Harry wondered how she knew they were even there. “Professor Dumbledore and your husband shall watch over us as we enter our trance.”

 

  “Wait, right now?” Ginny said. “We’re doing it now?”

 

  “Yes,” Mrs. Vance answered, as if it ought to be obvious. “There’s a war going on, child, the sooner we can do our part the better.”

 

 Ginny glanced at Harry, her eyebrows raised, then took a seat on a cushion and Professor Dumbledore helped Mrs. Vance to a cushion of her own. Harry snagged one for himself before dropping down onto it. They’d be there a long time, Harry figured.

 

 Mrs. Vance gave her wand a wave and the lights in the office went out. “Close your eyes and slow your breathing. Clear your mind and count to ten as you inhale and exhale.”

 

 Ginny nodded. Harry propped his chin on his palm and his elbow on his knee and watched her; she sat with her legs crossed, her hands in her lap, head slightly forward and her hair draped over her left shoulder. Mrs. Vance waved her wand again, and a sudden, sweet scent filled the air. Harry felt abruptly sleepy, the scent reminding him of Professor Trelawney’s classes, but it wasn’t a cloying, sickening scent, something gentle and soothing. His eyes fell shut.

 

   “You will feel the urge to fall asleep. Do not succumb to it. Breathe deeply and slowly. I shall call to an astral guide, and it will settle over both of us, when you feel it in your mind, let it enter.”

 

  “How will this affect Harry?” Ginny murmured.

 

 Harry managed to open his eyelids, though they felt quite heavy, to look at Mrs. Vance, whose unblinking stare did not shift from Ginny’s face. It was a bit creepy.

 

   “It should not touch him,” she answered. “My astral guide will attach to your soul, not your heart, to carry you across to the astral realm.”

 

 Harry glanced at Ginny, who nodded, then exhaled heavily through her mouth. He looked back to Mrs. Vance, then, as he could not resist the urge any longer, let his eyes fall shut.

 

 Mrs. Vance began to murmur, words that at first Harry couldn’t hear, then just couldn’t understand. It sounded almost like a prayer.

 

 A chill entered the air. The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck and his arms stood up, then the chill turned warm, a heavy presence like standing near a bonfire. Mrs. Vance’s whispers grew a little louder, then ceased abruptly.

 

It happened rapidly and before Harry could register what was even occurring at all. He felt a presence enter his mind, much the way Dumbledore did when he would test their mental defenses, then a charge entered his skin and a sensation much like sleep passed through him, yet without the gentle lapse of consciousness, leaving only a disorienting feel. He forced his eyes open and found himself staring at nothing.

 

            “Congratulations,” Mrs. Vance said. Her voice echoed strangely. “You have entered the astral plane.”

 

            “It feels weird,” he heard Ginny say. “And I can’t see anything.”

 

            “It will come to you,” Mrs. Vance assured her. Harry, now highly concerned, spoke up.

 

            “Am I supposed to still be able to hear you?”

 

There was silence. Then: “Harry?” Ginny’s voice asked.

 

            “What?” he answered. “I can hear you still, is that supposed to happen?”

 

            “Well then,” Mrs. Vance whispered.

 

            “What?” Harry asked.

 

The nothing began to flicker. Harry moved his eyes, then blinked and the image of a vaulted ceiling filled his vision. “I’m still in Dumbledore’s office, at least,” Harry told her just as Ginny said: “I can see something!”

 

            “What?” Harry asked.

 

            “The ceiling,” Ginny said.

 

            “That’s not very astral-ish,” Harry mused.

 

            “No, not really,” Ginny answered. “Am I meant to be looking at the ceiling?”

 

Harry felt the buzzing in his skin intensify rapidly in his foot and then his hands as his perspective drifted downward, and he was faced with Mrs. Vance. Except it wasn’t really Mrs. Vance, as this woman had perfectly good eyes that were not only not milky white but a vibrant and glowing pink, not to mention the fact that the rest of her was changed, her skin instead of its normal deep, coffee-esque brown, was made of deep purple light and lined in pink, and her hair, instead of black streaked with gray, was a pure white. She wore no clothes, but rather her body was uniform and smooth, as if she were wearing a second skin.

 

            “The astral realm is weird,” Harry decided. Then froze. “Did I say that out loud?”

 

            “This is certainly a surprise,” Mrs. Vance said, apparently ignoring his comments. The inside of her mouth was glowing pink as well.

 

            “Why are you purple?” Ginny asked.

 

Harry looked around, trying to find where Ginny was, but for some reason, he couldn’t see her. He could see, however, four figures on the ground far below them, Mrs. Vance, sat straight-backed on her cushion, Ginny, lopsided in her seat, himself, completely fallen over, and Professor Dumbledore, who was moving towards Harry’s body, but incredibly slowly; Harry didn’t even realize he was moving for a long moment, as if the Headmaster was pushing his body through water or gelatin.

 

            “This is weird,” Harry said.

 

            “Would you look back at me, please, children?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

Harry looked back up at her, then around again; “Where is Ginny?”

 

            “Look straight at me, child,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

Harry did. Mrs. Vance raised one hand, her nails pink and glowing like her eyes and mouth, then the other, and placed one hand on his right cheek, and the other somewhat to his left.

 

Harry looked left, but couldn’t see anything.

 

            “Harry, hold still and look at me,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

            “What?” Harry demanded, looking back at her.

 

            “You have joined us on the astral realm, yes,” Mrs. Vance told him. “I believe due to the fact that your astral form is the exact same as Ginny’s.”

 

Harry frowned. “What?”

 

            “I think it’s fair to say,” Mrs. Vance began, then paused. She looked worried, or at least highly confused, as much as a purple skinned, vaguely luminescent woman could be. “I believe that the two of you share a soul.”

 

            “Well, we know that already,” Harry told her. “Part of the soul bond thing.”

 

            “You misunderstand me,” Mrs. Vance said. “Normally, not even a soul-bonded pair would find both of themselves taken into the astral realm by accident.”

 

            “Maybe your astral guide thing made a mistake?” Harry asked.

 

And then something bright yellow appeared directly behind Mrs. Vance, almost making Harry jump away from Ginny’s teacher; the yellow thing, once his eyes adjusted, turned out to be another woman, almost identical to Mrs. Vance, her face slightly rounder, her nose slightly broader, and her hair shorter, as well as her body being made of yellow light lined with orange instead of purple.

 

            “I made no mistake,” the yellow woman said, in a thick accent Harry couldn’t quite place, almost French but not quite. “I was asked to bring two souls to de next realm, and I brought only two souls to de next realm. It tis no fault of mine if one of dem has two heads!”

 

Harry blinked. He looked around for Ginny again, then turned his head as far left as he could. He was met with a faint glow that, after a moment, appeared to be eyes and a mouth. The longer he looked, the more it looked like there was another head poking out of his shoulder, just barely offset from his like some Holga effect in real life. His eyes shot wide open and he let out a gasp.

 

            “Have we only got one soul between us?” Harry and Ginny demanded in unison.

 

            “It appears so,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

            “Oh, God,” Harry muttered.

 

            “Sweet Merlin,” Ginny whispered.

 

            “How is that even possible?” Harry asked. “I mean, we’re two people, how can we only have one soul between the pair of us?”

 

            “I am not de maker of souls,” the yellow woman said. “You would have to ask _Lanmò_ himself.”

 

            “ _Manman_ ,” Mrs. Vance said abruptly, “careful, you might summon him.”

 

            “You cannot summon someone by saying der common name,” the yellow woman scoffed. “Didn’t I teach you t’is, _cheri_?”

 

            “I’m sure that he can hear everything we are saying, anyway,” Mrs. Vance said. “Wait, _Lanmò_ makes souls?”

 

            “Erm, can I ask a question?” Ginny said.

 

Both Mrs. Vance and the yellow woman looked at Harry, or rather he figured, to his second head, and said: “What?”

 

            “Who are you?” Ginny asked.

 

            “I am Maria,” the yellow woman answered, “Vanessa’s _manman_.”

 

            “My mother,” Mrs. Vance added.

 

            “Dat tis what I said,” Maria protested.

 

Harry nodded slowly, and then an idea struck him. “Wait, we couldn’t talk to anyone who’s dead, could we?”

 

            “No!” Mrs. Vance barked immediately, then sighed and patted his cheek. “No, I’m afraid that’s not how this works. The astral realm and Guinee are not the same thing.”

 

            “Gui what?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Gui _nee_ ,” Maria repeated, rather exasperatedly, “it tis de place where de souls of de dead and de unborn are kept and watched over by _Lanmò_.”

 

            “Is _Lanmò_ the same thing as Death?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Yes,” Maria said shortly, rolling her eyes. “Dat tis his common name.”

 

            “What’s a common name?” Ginny again asked at the same time as Harry said: “Then, we can’t go see my parents?”

 

            “It tis your given name and no,” Maria answered both.

 

            “Wait, but you’re here?” Harry said questioningly.

 

            “I am a _mambo_ ,” Maria said, as if that answered everything. Harry frowned, and she rolled her eyes. “Do dese English wizards teach you not’ting of oder cultures anymore? I am a priestess of voodoo, child.”

 

            “We don’t learn much about voodoo,” Harry mumbled.

 

            “Bah!” Maria said, and then floated away.

 

Harry blinked at Mrs. Vance, who sighed. “My mother has been testy about the fact that she was denied from teaching a course about death at Hogwarts for a very long time. She is an expert on death, she worked for the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry for a long time. I believe. at least, that that is what granted her the ability to pass to and from the astral plane and the land of the dead.”

 

            “Okay,” Harry said slowly.

 

            “Now,” Mrs. Vance said and clapped her hands together. “We’ll have to address your, er, two-headed soul at another step. The first step is to find a mirror.”

 

            “Why?” Harry and Ginny asked, together again. Harry thought it was very weird.

 

            “So that you can see your astral form,” Mrs. Vance answered. “It will be easier for you to pass back and forth between astral and mortal realms once you know what you look like in both.”

 

            “Okay,” Harry muttered again.

 

            “ _Manman_!” Mrs. Vance called. “Can you take us to the first room?”

 

            “Yes,” Maria answered in a sigh, then floated back to them and placed her hands on both Harry’s shoulder, which was apparently also Ginny’s shoulder, as well as Mrs. Vance’s shoulder. Harry felt very confused. He could tell that Ginny was very confused as well, but he wasn’t quite sure how, since he couldn’t hear her thinking. Then again, his own thinking always ended up being verbal, so perhaps that it wasn’t that he couldn’t _hear_ her thoughts, but more that her thoughts were not there and able to be heard.

 

Regardless of how weird Harry felt at that given moment, Maria grasped both of their shoulders and bright yellow light surrounded them. When it cleared, they had left the ceiling of Dumbledore’s office and entered a surprisingly familiar place.

 

            “Why are we in my apple orchard?” Ginny asked.

 

            “It tis a gateway, a crossing of ley lines,” Maria answered, again with a haughty tone. “De closest one to where you actually were. Look around.”

 

Harry did, or rather Ginny did, and as a result, his head moved, too. Ginny let out a gasp and Harry’s hands flew up to cover his mouth as Ginny reacted to the seven doors standing in an otherwise perfectly normal clearing in the orchard. Each was a different color and marked with strange symbols, probably runes, though Harry obviously had no clue what they meant, having never taken Ancient Runes. He figured Ginny might, but he couldn’t hear her thoughts so he had no clue if she did or not.

 

            “Merlin,” she whispered. “How is any of this here?”

 

            “It tis a gateway, I told you,” Maria answered, then her yellow form floated to one of the seven doors, a gray one with a squiggle that looked a bit like a dog to Harry. “T’is way.”

 

            “What’s on the doors?” Ginny asked.

 

            “I thought you’d know,” Harry answered.

 

Mrs. Vance stared at them. “It’s so strange to see the same mouth pose and then reply to a question.”

 

            “But what are the marks?” Ginny repeated.

 

            “They’re sigils,” Mrs. Vance said, then shook herself and looked away. “They identify where the doors go to.”

 

            “So, where does that one go?” Harry asked, pointing to the squiggly dog where Maria was still waiting for them.

 

            “De first room,” Maria said plainly, as if it ought to be obvious.

 

            “Yes, but what is a first room?” Ginny asked, sounding rather irritated.

 

            “It tis de first place beginners have to go to when dey first enter de astral realm,” Maria said.

 

            “Obviously,” Ginny muttered. “That was aloud, wasn’t it?”

 

Maria raised her eyebrows. “Obviously.” She opened the door and bowed at the waist. “After you,” she told them, her voice rather sardonic.

 

            “We do actually have to go first,” Mrs. Vance commented as Harry and Ginny’s singular astral form moved forward. “Once she passes through, the door will shut, and none of us are able to open or close it.”

 

            “Right,” Harry and Ginny said together.

 

            “This is weird,” Ginny said.

 

            “You said it,” Harry muttered.

 

Mrs. Vance scrunched her eyebrows together, opened her mouth, then sighed and shook her head. “What’s weird is seeing one body speak with two voices.”

 

A sudden thought occurred to Harry. “You know, at the Third Task when I was dueling Professor Sinestra, she said the same thing.”

 

Mrs. Vance jerked her gaze back to them, her eyebrows somewhere around her hairline. “That is highly important information!” she gasped. “You can merge bodies while on the mortal plane?”

 

            “I guess?” Harry said questioningly, shrugging.

 

Mrs. Vance sighed heavily. “I might want to summon _Lanmò_ just to ask him about your soul, if he is indeed the maker of souls.”

 

            “What did I tell you five seconds ago, child?” Maria called. “Now, go!”

 

Mrs. Vance waved Harry and Ginny on; Harry shrugged and looked at the door. Then realized that he couldn’t move his body.

 

            “How do I move?” Harry and Ginny asked together.

 

            “You t’ink it!” Maria answered.

 

            “So far, all of my thinking’s come out of my mouth,” Harry answered her with a tone a little less than hospitable.

 

            “Movement in de astral realm is done t’rue t’ought,” Maria said to them. “T’rue your willpower.”

 

            “So, I just have to will myself forward, then?” Harry said as Ginny replied: “Then I just will myself to the door?”

 

            “Can you stop speaking at the same time as me?” Ginny asked.

 

            “As a matter of fact, I can’t tell what you’re going to say before you say it here,” Harry answered, a bit testy.

 

            “A bit testy, aren’t you?” Ginny commented.

 

            “Oi!”

 

            “Will you two stop bickering, please?” Mrs. Vance asked with exasperation in her voice. “Your body, at this time, is a not a physical form, you will have to think about your body moving.”

 

Harry frowned. He looked down at himself, but all he could see was a ghostly, faint glow. He raised his eyebrows, then wondered if he even _had_ eyebrows to raise at that time.

 

            “I don’t see anything,” he announced.

 

            “I see a few specks of dust,” Ginny added.

 

            “Alright, then, look at the door and imagine your consciousness moving forward.”

 

Harry looked at the door. He assumed Ginny did, too. He screwed up his face and thought really hard about going through that door.

 

Nothing happened.

 

            “Ai, t’is is taking too long,” Maria sighed; she floated forward, grabbed Harry’s arms, which were also Ginny’s arms, and pulled them forward. She spun them around, and gave them a push. They drifted through the door.

 

            “That’ll do it,” Harry quipped.

 

Mrs. Vance floated through the door, with Maria just behind her, and the door vanished the moment Maria passed through it. Mrs. Vance grabbed their arm and pulled them around to face wherever they had just entered.

 

It was a black, empty, void of nothing. Like space, if someone had come along with a vacuum and Hoovered up all the stars and assorted space junk. In the middle of the empty void hung a very familiar looking mirror.

 

            “Is that the Mirror of Erised?” Harry asked abruptly.

 

            “It tis de Mirror of Egami,” Maria corrected him. “It tis sister to de Mirror of Erised, however.”

 

            “That thing has sister mirrors?” Ginny asked as Harry said: “Then why’s it sitting up here in space?”

 

            “Yes, there are seven magic mirrors and it’s sitting here in space because, well, I don’t know,” Mrs. Vance said. “Its purpose is to show the viewer their true self, what their soul looks like.”

 

            “Was this thing ever in the real world?” Harry asked.

 

            “T’is tis de real world!” Maria snapped.

 

            “I don’t know,” Mrs. Vance answered with a shrug. “It’s here now, which is the point.”

 

She grabbed their arm and pulled them forward. Harry looked the mirror up and down as they approached, his eyes focusing on the inscription at the top. Like the Mirror of Erised, it was written backwards.

 

 _Egami eurt ru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ After some careful squinting and recollection of what the Mirror of Erised’s inscription said, Harry deciphered it: _I show you not your face but your true image._

 

            “Huh,” said Ginny.

 

            “You said it,” Harry murmured.

 

Mrs. Vance shook her head at them. She turned them away from the mirror, then positioned them and turned them back around.

 

Harry was faced with a strange figure. His eyes went very wide, and in the mirror, the right eye went very wide on its own. The left eye squinted.

 

            “That’s bloody weird,” Ginny said.

 

The figure was almost two figures, but not quite. It was if they had been laid over top of each other then split down the middle in a gradient. The right half was primarily navy blue, while the other was a sunset orange color, but between the two, it was a muddied shade of purple. The left eye and half of the mouth were a faintly glowing yellow and the right eye and half of the mouth a faintly glowing purple. Like Mrs. Vance and Maria, their body was smooth, the chest flat even on the left. The right half of the head had long, neon red hair while the other had bright blue that was short and messy, as if the right half had been shaved and then left to grow back out. When Harry blinked, the right eye blinked but not the left. He opened his mouth, and the right half of the mouth opened, the left half remained closed, but the middle of both mouths remained separate, so it appeared as there were two mouths and half of each were faded.

 

            “What do you see?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

            “My half’s orange and his half is blue,” Ginny said.

 

            “Really?” Mrs. Vance said. Harry looked at her, then glanced back in the mirror from the corner of his eye and felt a bit sick, as half of the head had turned and the other half remained still. He looked quickly square in the mirror again.

 

            “Don’t do that again,” Ginny advised.

 

            “Do what?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

            “He moved his head,” Ginny said. “I didn’t, so it looked really weird.”

 

            “Do you see two bodies?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

            “More like two merged bodies,” Ginny said. “He’s got the right half and I’ve got the left half.”

 

            “Except the head’s a bit disjointed,” Harry added. “Like, it didn’t merge fully.”

 

            “I only see one, uniform body,” Mrs. Vance said to them. “And you’re mauve.”

 

Harry figured that was what the dirty purple in their center was.

 

            “That’s what color I see in our center,” Ginny said, confirming it. “Weird.”

 

            “Perhaps it tis de fact that we do not see der true image,” Maria suggested, her voice coming from behind them.

 

            “I thought mauve was pinker,” Harry mused.

 

            “No, that’s mauve,” Ginny assured him.

 

            “This is weird,” Harry sighed.

 

            “Try to move,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

Harry looked down at himself and found exactly what he saw in the mirror as his body. He lifted his right arm, then tried to move the left. Nothing happened.

 

            “Move your arm,” Harry told Ginny.

 

The left arm moved. It poked him in the eye.

 

            “Ow!” Harry protested. It hadn’t actually hurt, but he was still offended.

 

            “We only get to move our halves of the body,” Ginny told Mrs. Vance.

 

            “Is that why you just poked yourself in the eye?” Mrs. Vance asked. She sounded very confused.

 

            “Yes,” Ginny said shortly. “Turn around, Harry.”

 

            “Er,” Harry said. He wasn’t quite sure how to execute turning around without moving his whole body. He strained vaguely to his right, and managed to do nothing.

 

            “Turn around the other way,” Ginny sighed.

 

            “Oh,” Harry answered, then moved left, and they turned around. “This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.”

 

            “Can we get a move on?” Maria asked, frustrated. “Vanessa has told me you are on an urgent mission!”

 

            “Yeah, yeah,” Ginny and Harry answered. Harry moved the right foot forward. Ginny put the left one in front of it. They wobbled a little, and Harry shifted the right foot outward.

 

            “Here,” Mrs. Vance said, and took both of their hands. “I’ll just pull you along until you can move together faster.”

 

            “Fine,” Harry and Ginny answered again. Harry turned his head left, and caught sight of a faint orange glow, but then it started to hurt his head, so he looked forward again. Maria stuck her hand out and the door appeared and opened once again. Mrs. Vance pulled them through it, and Maria followed, the door shutting behind her.

 

            “Now what?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Yes, now what?” Maria echoed.

 

            “We need to find things in the mortal world,” Mrs. Vance said, then release them and looked to Maria. “Where would we do that?”

 

            “I don’t know,” Maria said. “I am not an encyclopedia of de astral realm.”

 

Mrs. Vance shut her eyes and exhale slowly before opening them and looking back to her mother. “Alright, where do you go when you need to find someone?”

 

Maria shrugged. “Here, any gateway, and I go find them.”

 

Mrs. Vance frowned, then she floated away from them and looked around the orchard, her frown heavy. Harry looked around as well, but didn’t know what she was looking for.

 

            “Do we just look for the mortal objects from here?” Mrs. Vance posed.

 

Maria gave another shrug in answer. Mrs. Vance sighed heavily and looked at them. Harry shrugged back. He then glanced at Ginny’s shoulder and shrugged again; the left shoulder stayed put.

 

            “What are you doing?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Nothing,” Harry said quickly.

 

            “I guess we just go from here,” Mrs. Vance said, ignoring both. She floated back to them and took their hands, pulling them to the center of the circle formed by the doors. “ _Manman_ , when you want to find someone, what is it that you do exactly?”

 

            “I t’ink about dem,” Maria answered, floating closer to them. “Usually, it tis you, and I can guess where you are, so I just go.”

 

            “What about someone else?” Mrs. Vance questioned. “Someone you don’t know as well?”

 

Maria considered this. She cocked her head to the side, then shrugged once again. “I do not look for many people.”

 

            “Okay, I’ll just figure it out,” Ginny said. “Just, be quiet a minute.”

 

Harry mimed zipping their lips.

 

            “Oh, don’t do that,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

            “Why?” Harry asked. Or he tried to ask. His mouth wouldn’t open. He struggled for a moment, then Ginny reached up and unzipped their mouth. “Is that why?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Yes,” Mrs. Vance said with a light smile.

 

            “Okay, don’t do it again, everyone be quiet,” Ginny said.

 

Harry did not mime zipping their lips, but went silent. For a long moment, nothing happened; Ginny let out a frustrated noise.

 

            “Maybe we should try something else?” Mrs. Vance muttered.

 

            “I t’ink you are crazy,” Maria murmured. Mrs. Vance gave her a look. “What? It tis true! You are spending a great deal of energy keeping t’is child in a trance and she does not even know what she is looking for!”

 

            “That is not helping!” Mrs. Vance snapped. “We are trying to stop a dark wizard from taking over Britain and then the whole world, and that will fill up the astral realm with so much dark energy you won’t be able to see your own hand, _manman_ , so if you could _please_ spend less time being huffy about your rest being disturbed and more time helping us!”

 

Maria, her face blank, blinked slowly at her daughter. She pursed her lips, then huffed. “I cannot tell you what to do,” she admitted slowly, and Mrs. Vance’s shoulders drooped, “but I may know someone who can.”

 

Mrs. Vance seemed to re-inflate. “Thank you,” she said with a nod to her mother.

 

            “If you want to talk to a primordial force.”

 

Mrs. Vance’s face went blank as her mother’s but without the threads of frustration, rather, with undertones of shock; her eyes wide, a slight lilt to her eyebrows, her lips pressed together. Harry glanced between them.

 

            “What’s a primordial?” Harry and Ginny asked.

 

            “An energy older dan de known universe,” Maria said. “Some of dem have been embodied by immortal beings, like _Lanmò_ or Fate.”

 

Harry blinked at Maria. “Fate?” he repeated. He ought to have been startled at the idea of a being embodied by _fate_ , but he wasn’t, in fact, he felt like he already knew that.

 

            “I do not know where dey have come from,” Maria said with a shrug. “Fate, Chaos, Destiny, Luck, Night, Day, and Death. De seven control the seven realms and all de branches, so one of dem would know how to do what you are trying to do.”

 

            “But those are incredibly powerful beings or forces, whichever, and interacting with one of them isn’t safe,” Mrs. Vance replied, her tone nervous, before Harry could ask what the seven realms were, and it triggered another thought in his brain.

 

            “No, it is safe,” he said quietly.

 

Mrs. Vance and Maria looked at them.

 

            “I know it is,” Harry muttered. “I think?”

 

            “Fate,” Ginny muttered. “Fate fate, like destiny.”

 

            “If we’re not careful,” Mrs. Vance said, looking around even in her nervous state, “they’ll hear us and come whether we want them to or not.”

 

            “But talking to dem would get what you need!” Maria insisted.

 

            “Have _you_ ever talked to one of them?” Mrs. Vance asked pointedly. When Maria didn’t answer, she gave a nod. “No, you haven’t, but Death has talked to me! The primordial forces are not safe!”

 

            “We’ve talked to one,” Harry said.

 

Maria and Mrs. Vance looked back at them, both of them with raised eyebrows. “Have you?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

            “Yes,” Harry said, and it was all coming back to him, then, “Fate has appeared in our dreams before.”

 

            “You’re right,” Ginny said. “Three times.”

 

            “How are you even still sane?” Mrs. Vance demanded. Then she shook her head. “You’re a soul with two personalities, what do I expect. Fine, so Fate is safe, but how can we be sure that she would even respond to us?”

 

            “Fate knew you were here the second you arrived.”

 

Harry and Ginny whipped around together; Maria surged forward and threw her arms out in front of them; Mrs. Vance raised her hands and pink energy gathered around her fingers.

 

By one of the doors, a silver one with a sigil resembling a globe, a woman dressed in deep red robes stood with her hands clasped behind her. Her skin was a pure white, her hair like blue fire, her lips a blood red and her eyes purely blue, with no whites to them. Within an instant of seeing her, Harry remembered her image from a dream; the dream where he and Ginny had descended into a fiery abyss. She had been talking to someone, or something, and the longer he thought about it, the more he felt like it had been some _thing_.

 

            “Who are you?” Maria demanded. “What is your purpose here?”

 

            “I’m the errand girl,” she answered; she bowed low to them, and as she did, Harry noticed that she was less standing than she was floating, not the way that Mrs. Vance and Maria were, with their ankles tucked together, but her feet were flexed a few inches above the grass. “My name is Daphne, I am the child of Death and Destiny, I am not quite a primordial being, but close enough. Fate knows you are here, like I said, and she heard that you were considering speaking with her, so she sent me.”

 

Daphne gave a wave, then added with a finger pointed in Harry and Ginny’s direction: “I am not permitted to give you any information revolving their soul, though.”

 

Harry scowled. “That’s unfortunate,” he said dryly.

 

            “We’d rather like to know why we only have one soul between the pair of us,” Ginny continued.

 

            “We feel kind of cheated in the soul department,” Harry finished.

 

            “I cannot tell you,” Daphne repeated. “Fate has a tight control on the amount of knowledge I am allowed to give out as of late.”

 

            “Okay,” Harry and Ginny said carefully.

 

Daphne held out a hand to Mrs. Vance. “You can stop panicking. I’m not going to harm your sanity.”

 

Mrs. Vance didn’t lower her hands, however. Harry wondered how pink light was going to help her if Daphne did attack. “Why did you come?” she demanded.

 

Daphne spread her hands. “You wanted to speak with a primordial force, here I am. I am helping you.”

 

Mrs. Vance didn’t look convinced. Maria, however, shrugged and floated away from Harry and Ginny. Mrs. Vance shot her a look, then advanced slightly.

 

            “Can you tell us how we can find the Horcruxes of Tom Riddle?” Mrs. Vance asked.

 

            “I can give you limited information on that,” Daphne answered.

 

            “Limited?” Harry and Ginny asked.

 

            “Limited,” Daphne said, raising a finger. “I can, for example, tell you that Tom Riddle made a total of seven Horcruxes, that two are destroyed, and one is inside Hogwarts.”

 

            “Inside Hogwarts?” Harry repeated.

 

            “I can also tell you that the other four are not inside Hogwarts,” Daphne continued, wagging her finger at them. “One is closer than you’d think, another is in a place near where he committed the murder to first make it, one is soon to be found by an outside party, another is at its originator’s side at all times.”

 

Harry blinked. Daphne smiled at them patiently.

 

            “Can you tell us exactly where each one is?” Ginny asked after a pause.

 

            “Limited information,” Daphne repeated.

 

            “Right,” Ginny muttered.

 

            “I can also tell you that you need to be thinking very hard about what happened at the creation of his second Horcrux,” Daphne added.

 

            “What?” Harry and Ginny said.

 

            “I elaborate,” Daphne added, “when the third Horcrux was destroyed, the information inside it was absorbed by the closest vessel for it.”

 

For another long moment, they all just stared at her, and at least Harry was extremely confused. He wasn’t sure what the destruction of the third Horcrux had to do with what happened at the creation of the second, or how the information inside it would be able to go into anything – Unless, the third Horcrux, specifically, was the locket…

 

Harry’s eyes widened quickly. “You don’t mean…” he started, and didn’t finish. He didn’t want to think it.

 

            “I cannot elaborate further,” Daphne said.

 

            “Why not?” Mrs. Vance demanded of her.

 

            “It went inside me?” Ginny asked in a hushed voice.

 

            “I can confirm,” Daphne told them solemnly. She bowed her head to them. “This is a fluke, of course, the fact that you were nearly taken over by the first Horcrux lead to the information inside of it remaining inside your mind instead of going with the energy and soul fragment into the astral and then beyond in the case of the soul fragment. When the third Horcrux was destroyed in front of you, all of its pieces should have been sucked into the astral, but while the energy and soul fragment went into the astral, the information was attracted to the information inside your mind and was therefore absorbed.”

 

            “Oh, god,” Ginny whispered. Harry felt sick, if one could feel sick while in the astral realm.

 

            “Yes,” Daphne said, “indeed.”

 

            “Okay, so, then I should know where the second Horcrux is hidden?” Ginny asked. “Wait, what happened at the creation of the second?”

 

            “To create a Horcrux,” Daphne said, as if at that point she was just spouting information as smoke, “one must first commit a horrendous act so unnatural to the soul that it tears it in half, then summon a devil to then capture that torn bit of soul and trap it inside a mundane object. This object cannot be previously enchanted. To destroy that object afterwards, one must destroy its vessel with some method of grandiose proportions, the extreme in any method of magical destruction, poison, ice, fire, et cetera.”

 

            “We know that, but –” Ginny started, and Daphne cut her off.

 

            “One must commit a horrendous act, then summon a devil to capture and entrap the torn bit of soul.”

 

            “Why do we especially need to consider that?” Ginny demanded.

 

Daphne took a step forward and Mrs. Vance’s pink light doubled in intensity. She gave Mrs. Vance a look of frustration at Mrs. Vance’s continued lack of trust, then fixed her eyes back on Harry and Ginny’s.

 

            “A devil is any creature of energy in service of my father,” she said. “They are non-sentient and cannot dispense additional information when summoned, they are only able to perform the task they were summoned for, and then depart.”

 

            “What does that mean?” Ginny asked.

 

            “There have been a total of nine dark wizards throughout time who have created more than one Horcrux,” Daphne declared.

 

Harry took a guess at what Daphne wanted them to extrapolate from what she was saying. “What happens when you create a second Horcrux?”

 

            “Great question,” Daphne said with a grin of delight, confirming his guess. “When one attempts to create a second Horcrux, instead of summoning a devil, a non-sentient creature that cannot give information or even pose questions to the summoner, I am summoned instead.”

 

Harry blinked at her. “I don’t get it,” he said.

 

Daphne pressed her lips together in a thin line, much like McGonagall often did when she was displeased or unimpressed. “I am capable of questioning the summoner and then giving further information.”

 

            “Did you tell him something?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Yes!” Daphne said, with a touch of a non-verbal _Finally!_

 

            “What did you tell him?” Harry asked.

 

            “I am not permitted to tell you,” Daphne answered.

 

            “Then why did you tell us, then?” Harry demanded, rather pissed off that they had wasted all that time on a tangent that wouldn’t even be explored to fruition.

 

            “Because you need to be thinking very hard about it,” Daphne repeated to them, and her eyes were suddenly doubled in the intensity of their blueness, her smile still there but her expression somehow wholly serious. “As in, you need to know what I told him, but I am not allowed to tell you.”

 

            “Why not?” Harry and Ginny asked.

 

            “I am restricted on the amount of information I am allowed to give to mortals,” Daphne answered with half of a sigh, as if even she was frustrated by how little she was saying. “You have to find out most things on your own.”

 

            “Why are you specifically restricted?” Ginny asked.

 

            “Because I once tricked Fate into letting me give a mortal rather a lot of information in order to retrieve something from him,” Daphne said. “It would help you to know that scenario as well, but again, I am not permitted to inform you of such.”

 

Harry gaped at Daphne. The woman smiled calmly, infuriatingly.

 

            “Fine,” Ginny said. “Where is the second Horcrux?”

 

            “Near the place where the murder committed to create it took place,” Daphne answered. Repeating information she had already dispensed.

 

            “Where is that?” Ginny asked.

 

            “I am allowed to give you limited information, however, if you guess correctly, I am allowed to confirm” Daphne repeated, and Harry groaned. “Thus, I speak in _riddles_.”

 

Harry frowned. That was particularly odd emphasis. Daphne nodded at them, her smile constant.

 

            “Who got murdered?” Harry asked carefully.

 

            “It was a highly significant murder to Tom Riddle in particular,” Daphne said.

 

            “Was it his family?” Harry asked.

 

            “It was,” Daphne said and her smile widened. “You are doing an excellent job of guessing my meaning.”

 

            “So, Voldemort killed his parents?” Harry questioned. Daphne shook her head. “Mother?” Another shake of the head. “Father?”

 

            “And?” Daphne prompted.

 

            “Grandparents?” Harry guessed.

 

            “Paternal grandparents,” Daphne said with a nod.

 

            “He killed his father and his father’s parents, and then the Horcrux he created with their death is hidden nearby,” Harry said.

 

            “Yes,” Daphne said.

 

            “We’ve destroyed the third Horcrux and the first one?” Ginny asked. “The second one is near where it was created, and the fourth is where?”

 

            “To be found very soon,” Daphne said. “And not by any of you.”

 

            “Okay,” Ginny said slowly.

 

            “Where’s the fifth?” Harry asked, trying to get it over with.

 

            “Inside Hogwarts,” Daphne said.

 

            “Hogwarts is a big place,” Harry pressed.

 

Daphne gave a nod. “It is in the place where one would go if they required a hiding place.”

 

            “That is oddly specific wording,” Harry mused.

 

            “You’ll figure it out,” Daphne replied. Harry scowled a little, but only because he disliked riddles.

 

            “Where’s the sixth?” Ginny asked.

 

            “To be destroyed last,” Daphne answered.

 

Harry blinked again. “Why does the sixth one have to be destroyed last?”

 

Daphne cocked her head to the side, her gaze drifting away from them as she considered this. “Because…” she started, then sighed and looked back at them. “Because of reasons.”

 

            “That does not make sense,” Harry insisted. “What reasons?”

 

            “It is closer than you would think,” Daphne repeated.

 

            “Still doesn’t make sense,” Harry said.

 

            “Look, the sixth Horcrux must be left for now,” Daphne said, frustration entering her voice again, “it will be destroyed last, but you cannot know where it is as of yet.”

 

            “Why not?” Harry demanded.

 

            “Because!” Daphne exclaimed, and, again, even she seemed exasperated at the cryptic nature of the information she was allowed to give them. “Just, trust me, leave the sixth one alone for now.”

 

            “Where’s the seventh, then?” Ginny asked with a sigh.

 

            “At Voldemort’s side at all times,” Daphne said. “It follows him everywhere.”

 

            “It follows him?” Harry repeated. “Like, it’s capable of moving on its own?”

 

            “Yes,” Daphne answered.

 

            “Is it an animal?” Ginny asked. “Like, the snake I saw with Voldemort in my dreams last year?”

 

            “It is precisely that animal,” Daphne said. “Very good.”

 

            “That’s all of them?” Harry asked. “He isn’t going to make another?”

 

            “No,” Daphne answered. “His focus is on another project.”

 

            “What project?” Harry asked hastily, hoping that she wouldn’t just say –

 

            “I cannot tell you,” Daphne said, and Harry groaned. “I cannot! You must find out on your own. You have the information you need to figure it out.”

 

            “Is it something we’ll have to destroy?” Harry asked.

 

            “It is something you will have to open,” Daphne answered, which made Harry frown. “It does not require destruction.”

 

            “What is it?” Ginny and Harry asked.

 

            “I cannot tell you,” Daphne answered, and they groaned in unison. “I am sorry.”

 

            “If you cannot explain these things further,” Mrs. Vance spoke, her stance still wary and poised to attack, “can you at the very least direct Miss Weasley on how she may use her abilities to pinpoint the location of the Horcruxes on the mortal plane?”

 

            “I most certainly can,” Daphne answered, “Fate is quite happy to allow me to assist in any academic areas as much as I am capable.”

 

            “Fine, then how do I find things in the real world?” Ginny asked, her voice extremely worn out by all the previous _limited information_.

 

            “It is quite simple,” Daphne said. “To find a person, you must know their common name and their image, or know their true name and be able to speak it. To find an object, you must know what it is and what it looks like.”

 

            “I don’t know what any of these things look like!” Ginny shouted.

 

            “To find an enchanted object,” Daphne continued, and Harry let out a longsuffering sigh, deciding that he did not like these primordial beings who were stingy with their information, “one must know the criteria of the enchantment and by who it was enchanted.”

 

Ginny considered this, as she was silent for a moment. “Does a Horcrux count as an enchanted object?”

 

            “Yes,” Daphne answered.

 

            “Great,” Ginny replied. “Now what?”

 

            “Have you learned to walk yet?” Daphne asked.

 

            “Not quite,” Ginny answered promptly. “It’s hard when you only get to control one half of the body.”

 

Daphne’s expression went slack. “One half?” she asked.

 

            “Do you not hear the two voices?” Harry asked.

 

            “It’s the same voice,” Daphne said. “Essentially.”

 

            “I can hear the different voices,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

            “I sound very different from Harry,” Ginny added.

 

            “I sound like a bloke,” Harry elaborated.

 

            “Not really,” Daphne said, shrugging. Harry pouted. “Mortal voices all sound the same. I assumed that _Felix Commissura_ had finished, your heartbeats and breathing in your mortal bodies are already in sync at the very least.”

 

            “I’m sorry, what?” Ginny asked.

 

            “We’ve heard that before,” Harry said hastily, “in a dream, long time ago. It was some kid, but she didn’t say what it was, though.”

 

            “It is also called the Fortunate Seam,” Daphne answered. “In closely bonded souls, after some time the two will become intertwined in such a way that it is impossible to separate them again. You already know that you cannot leave each other’s sides for four hours, yes?”

 

            “Five hours!” Ginny said.

 

            “Four,” Daphne insisted with yet another shrug. “The Seam usually does not take place until mid-way through their projected lifetime, but in special cases, it can be triggered early in order to repair trauma.”

 

Harry thought about it. “We have nearly died a few times in the past year,” he mused.

 

            “Near-death experiences are highly traumatizing,” Daphne agreed. “As are wicked sorcerers attempting to murder you as a baby. Or as an adolescent. Or as a young adult. You are very traumatized. I recommend counseling.”

 

            “Thanks,” Harry muttered.

 

            “Regardless, you don’t have full control over your astral form. That will make it harder for you to maneuver the astral plane.”

 

            “We’re helping them,” Mrs. Vance piped up.

 

            “Good, then at the most, you will just have to strain a little,” Daphne said, sighing a little. “As all things in the astral realm are done, you will need to locate the Horcruxes with your will and imagination.”

 

            “Then, I just imagine that I’m standing in front of the Horcrux and poof, I’m there?” Ginny said sarcastically.

 

            “Yes,” Daphne replied.

 

Harry blinked at her.

 

            “What?” she said. “I am serious.”

 

            “That’s it?” Ginny asked, incredulous.

 

            “That’s it,” Daphne said. “Good day.”

 

            “Wait!” Harry and Ginny shouted, but Daphne turned on her heel and vanished through the door she’d come from. Silence caught the circle of doors for a moment, then:

 

            “Shit,” Harry hissed under his breath. Ginny poked his side of their face and he recoiled a little, however, it is very difficult to recoil from your own hand.

 

            “Well,” Mrs. Vance sighed, turning to them and for a second she just stared at them, but not quite seeing them before she shrugged. “Start imagining.”

 

            “I guess?” Ginny mumbled. “Maybe we should start with the one that’s inside Hogwarts?”

 

            “You do already know that place,” Mrs. Vance agreed, then she reached out and took their hands before looking to Maria. “ _Manman_ , if you would, please.”

 

Maria gave a sigh, but moved forward and took both of them by the arm. All three of them. But there were two bodies. Harry confused himself and pushed the thought away. Maria’s face settled into a look of concentration, Harry blinked, and they were standing in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

 

            “There,” Maria said, releasing them. “Now, child, t’ink of what you are looking for and focus.”

 

            “Horcrux,” Ginny whispered, “Horcrux, Horcrux, Horcrux…”

 

            “Concentrate!” Maria murmured.

 

            “I’m trying,” Ginny snapped. Harry’s eyes fell shut, and he felt a little woozy for a moment. In that moment of dizziness, however, he felt a tug somewhere near his gut, and opened his eyes again.

 

They were alone, standing in an empty corridor. As Harry looked around, the lines of the corridor, the mortar in the stone floor, the tapestry on the wall behind them and the vase on plinth nearby all seemed to blur together, their definitions slurring, as if someone had taken a photograph and then developed it incorrectly. Had it always been that way, Harry wondered, and he just hadn’t noticed it?

 

Ginny pulled on him, and they drifted slowly in a circle. There was a door in front of them. Harry pulled back, trying to look at the tapestry; something was being clubbed multiple times by several large, pink things.

 

            “Harry, I’m trying to follow something,” Ginny chided.

 

            “That’s Barnabus the Barmy,” Harry said, ignoring her, essentially. “We’re on the seventh floor.”

 

Ginny pulled again, and they drifted back to face the other wall and the door. Harry frowned.

 

            “There’s never been a door there,” he said.

 

            “Has there?” Ginny asked. Her hand reached out, and Harry grabbed it quickly. “What?”

 

            “How do we know that’s not, like, some trap?” he asked. “It could be a demon or a devil or anything trying to trick us!”

 

            “It’s a _door_ ,” Ginny said.

 

Harry eyed it suspiciously. It was just a door. But, he realized as he stared at it, it wasn’t blurred like everything else, its every line and form was in full clarity.

 

            “Why’s it clear, then?” he asked. “It should be all messed up like everything else is, but it’s not.”

 

            “I’m opening the door,” Ginny said, reaching out again.

 

            “It could be a trap!” he protested, but Ginny gripped the handle and tugged.

 

The door opened. It didn’t creak, which Harry thought was a fail on its hinges to heighten the tension of the scene, but the door swung open nevertheless. Harry and Ginny peered inside, and very quickly, they frowned heavily.

 

Behind the door was pure, white light. It was bright, not enough to hurt their eyes, but pure enough to not just be a ray of sunshine from a window down the corridor.

 

            “What is it?” Harry murmured.

 

            “I don’t know,” Ginny answered. She reached out, then stopped fortunately, her fingers inches from the light. Harry grabbed her hand and pulled it back, holding it to their chest. “How are we supposed to figure out what it is?” Ginny asked snappishly, but she didn’t try to pull her hand away.

 

            “It doesn’t matter, we’re trying to find the fifth Horcrux!”

 

            “Maybe it has to do with the fifth Horcrux,” Ginny suggested.

           

            “It’s a door in a corridor that has no doors with nothing but white light behind it,” Harry insisted, “it’s probably got nothing to do with the Horcrux.”

 

The white light vanished. Harry blinked, and behind the door, there was now a room filled with vast quantities of junk.

 

            “Er…” Harry said.

 

            “I don’t get it,” Ginny muttered.

 

            “Maybe it has to do with the Horcrux?” Harry said questioningly.

 

Ginny pulled her hand away and set on the door, then shifted her foot forward. “Come on,” she hissed. “Let’s go!”

 

            “Right,” Harry muttered, then managed to move his foot to match hers. With slow, halting and strained steps, they cleared the doorway, coming to a stop to catch their breath.

 

            “What is this place?” Ginny asked, the both of them looking around in wonder. The room was massive, the ceiling reaching far above where the corridor outside stopped, and even then it was packed full with thousands and thousands of items. Boxes full of junk and dozens upon dozens of cauldrons, stacks of chairs and desks, bits of paper and old books, piles of brooms and even the odd bicycle lay scattered about like litter everywhere. There seemed to be no end to the trash and the discarded, as the room stretched out for miles it seemed.

 

            “I have no clue,” Harry whispered back.

 

            “There you are!”

 

The two of them turned around, with difficulty, as Harry turned to the left at first and Ginny to the right, but saw Mrs. Vance and Maria approaching from behind.

 

            “We’ve been searching all over for you!” Mrs. Vance cried, grabbing them by the arms. “I thought you’d gotten lost, or you’d been sucked up into the aether!”

 

            “The what?” Harry asked as Ginny said: “I focused on the Horcrux and came here!”

 

            “Where is here?” Maria asked, floating past them. “And who cleans it?”

 

            “No one probably,” Harry answered.

 

            “Obviously,” Maria replied dryly. Mrs. Vance shook her head.

 

            “Don’t vanish like that again,” she said, shaking a finger at them. “You could have been lost, taken by something or a thousand other things!”

 

            “I didn’t mean to,” Ginny said in their defense, “I just sort of ended up here.”

 

            “Still,” Mrs. Vance sighed. “If something had happened, you’d never be able to return to your bodies, you’d be lost adrift here for the rest of time.”

 

            “We’ll try not to wander off again,” Ginny said quickly as Harry shuddered. “Sorry.”

 

Mrs. Vance gave a nod, then looked around finally. “Are we even still in Hogwarts?” she whispered, her hands drifting from their shoulders as she took in the magnitude of the room.

 

            “Who would destroy a perfectly good gramophone like t’is!” Maria shouted.

 

            “Focus, _manman_ ,” Mrs. Vance called back to her. “Are we still in Hogwarts?”

 

Maria drifted away from the gramophone she’d been upset by, her face cross. “Yes, yes,” she said. “Where else would we be?”

 

            “I don’t know,” Mrs. Vance muttered. “This doesn’t look like Hogwarts.”

 

            “There’s not even supposed to be a door in that corridor,” Harry pointed out.

 

            “It tis a place of great magic,” Maria said with a shrug. “Dere must be t’ousands of secret places wit’in t’is castle.”

 

Mrs. Vance gave a hum, drifting towards the nearest wall of junk. “I suppose,” she murmured. “But, I’ve never heard of a room like this.”

 

            “Dat would be why it tis secret,” Maria said wryly. Mrs. Vance shot her a look.

 

            “All I know is that I focused on the fifth Horcrux,” Ginny said, “and when I opened my eyes, I was in that corridor back there.”

 

Mrs. Vance sighed, shrugged, and approached them again. “Well, see if you can pinpoint it.”

 

Ginny shut their eyes again, giving Harry a view of blackness. He heard her muttering under her breath, but nothing happened. Ginny opened their eyes again, shrugging hopelessly with one shoulder at Mrs. Vance. The woman drifted nearer and placed her hands on their shoulders.

 

            “Think,” Mrs. Vance prompted, “think as hard as you can and harder still. You can find it. It is here somewhere, you just need to feel it out.”

 

            “I can’t!” Ginny insisted.

 

            “You can!” Mrs. Vance countered, her voice gone soft. “You can do it. Feel, Ginny.”

 

Their eyes shut again. Harry, at a loss for what else to do, thought hard about the fifth Horcrux. Maybe he could help, he reasoned, though he wasn’t sure how.

 

            “Where did you go?!”

 

They opened their eyes, and Maria and Mrs. Vance had been left behind again. They were still among the stacks, standing by an old cabinet that looked as if someone had doused it in acid and a crate with an ugly marble bust sat haphazardly upon it. Looking around, there was a large stack of what looked like dirty romance books, a pile of abandoned Fanged Frisbees, a couple of brooms, a box full of powdered wigs with an old tiara dropped in, and a Vanishing Cabinet with its door hanging on only one hinge.

 

            “Ginny!” came a shout from the distance. “Harry!”

 

            “Harry!” someone else called. Harry looked around, sudden anxiety gripping him. “Harry!”

 

            “We’re back here!” Ginny shouted.

 

            “Did you hear that?” Harry hissed to her.

 

            “Hear what?” she asked.

 

Maria and Mrs. Vance appeared at the other end of the stacks. Mrs. Vance threw up her hands and shot towards them, just as, for a third time:

 

            “Harry!”

 

Harry abruptly felt the woozy feeling seize him again. His shoulders began to shake, as if the ground beneath him were quaking, but the towering stacks around them were perfectly still. Mrs. Vance and Maria were rapidly approaching them as Ginny looked around again, her hand reaching out for the cabinet, and Harry’s vision filled with black.

 

   “Harry, Harry, can you hear me? Wake up!”

 

 Harry blinked, then pressed a hand over his eyes. His left hand. For a second, he froze, then lifted it and looked around. He was back in Dumbledore’s office, Dumbledore himself kneeling over him with an expression of great relief.

 

   “You collapsed,” Dumbledore hissed. “I have been trying to wake you; Mrs. Vance and your wife have just gone into their trance.”

 

   “What?” Harry mumbled; he felt as if someone had woken him from a very deep sleep by slapping him or dousing him with ice water and his speech reflected it. “What’dya mean? We were… On the seventh floor?”

 

   “What do you mean?” Dumbledore asked, then, behind him, someone gave a groan. Dumbledore looked over his shoulder, then stood up, giving Harry a clear view of the center of the office.

 

Mrs. Vance had a hand pressed over her face and Ginny was rubbing her eyes with her knuckles.

 

   “Where’s the junk room?” Ginny mumbled absently.

 

 Harry glanced between the two of them, then at Dumbledore, then down at himself. “You woke me up,” he muttered. Dumbledore looked back at him.

 

   “You collapsed,” Dumbledore repeated, his mouth turned into a frown. “Of course I roused you.”

 

   “It was alright,” Mrs. Vance said blearily and Dumbledore turned his gaze on her. “I did not expect that to happen either.”

 

   “I am afraid I do not understand,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “Harry fell into the trance with Ginny,” Mrs. Vance said, lowering her hand to look at him, squinting a little. “He joined us in the astral realm.”

 

 Dumbledore looked sharply at Harry, then back at Mrs. Vance with raised eyebrows. “Really?” he murmured. “I thought you would only be drawing Ginny to the astral.”

 

   “I called upon a guide to draw myself and Ginny,” Mrs. Vance said. “My mother. As I explained, she drew my soul to the astral, and then Ginny’s. Harry was brought along.”

 

   “Because of their bond?” Dumbledore asked.

 

   “Because they only have one soul between them,” Mrs. Vance said.

 

 Dumbledore stared at her for a moment. He glanced at Harry, then at Ginny, and back at Mrs. Vance, who gave a nod. Dumbledore drew his eyebrows together, his gaze falling to the ground.

 

   “Only one soul,” he whispered. “Are you sure?”

 

   “There was no other way for him to be drawn into the astral as well,” Mrs. Vance said. “You waking him drew Ginny from her trance, which woke me as well. But, we were able to gather a great deal of information before you woke us, fortunately, including this news on their soul Time passes differently in the astral, it’s much faster.”

 

   “One soul,” Dumbledore repeated, as if he hadn’t heard Mrs. Vance. Harry looked at the Headmaster, but Dumbledore’s expression was unreadable. “Then… That means…”

 

   “Means what?” Mrs. Vance asked, looking up at him now with a similar furrowed expression.

 

   “I am sorry,” Dumbledore said hastily, “please, ignore my ramblings.” His voice was casual, but at the same time guarded, and Harry’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued. “What did you learn?”

 

   “Well,” Mrs. Vance murmured, then raised her eyebrows and looked away, at Ginny. “You-Know-Who has seven Horcruxes.”

 

   “Seven?” Dumbledore repeated in a murmur. “Yes, that makes sense.”

 

   “Two have been destroyed, which I can only assume was done by you,” Mrs. Vance continued. “One, the fourth is about to be found, but not by any of us. The second is hidden near where it was created, the seventh is his snake, and the fifth is inside Hogwarts.”

 

   “Inside?” Dumbledore echoed rapidly. “Where?”

 

   “In a room full of junk,” Ginny said, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Not very helpful. It’s through an invisible door or something, on the seventh floor.”

 

   “The Room of Requirement?” Dumbledore said in suggestion.

 

Harry raised his eyebrows while Ginny frowned. “Daphne did say it was in a place someone would go if they required a hiding place.”

 

   “Daphne?” Dumbledore repeated again. “Who is this?”

 

   “A primordial force, apparently,” Ginny said. “Said she was the child of Death and Destiny.”

 

Something flashed across Dumbledore’s face, but it was gone much too quickly for Harry to read it. The Headmaster cleared his throat, reached out a hand to Mrs. Vance to help her up, then vanished her cushion with his wand. Harry stood, helping Ginny up, and Dumbledore vanished their cushions as well.

 

   “It is late,” Dumbledore said. “You should retire to your rooms. Vanessa, do you need –”

 

   “I can find my way, now,” Mrs. Vance answered. Harry looked into her milky eyes, and felt pity for her all over again. She could see in the astral realm, but not in the real world. Harry thought that it had to be painful for her to even think of let alone go there and back again, yet she'd willingly done it. “Thank you.”

 

 Dumbledore nodded, then touched a hand to Harry’s shoulder, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I will go in search of the fifth Horcrux in the morning,” he said, then glanced at Ginny. “Rest. You have done well tonight.”

 

Harry gave a nod, then threaded his arm through Ginny’s and they made their way to the office’s exit. It felt almost strange to walk with full control of his body, after the time spent in the astral realm. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder, and fatigue settled into both of them. Harry kissed the top of her head, his gaze on the ground as they made their way back up to Gryffindor tower.

 

They dressed for bed, brushed their teeth, and collapsed into it, and as Harry was falling asleep, he realized that Dumbledore hadn’t asked about the sixth Horcrux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*evil laughter* *for no reason tbh it's just generally evil laughter* *bc i'm being evil to you guys and giving you "limited information"* *continued evil laughter*_


	66. Pandora's Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Mmkay all that about chillin’ with the weird dreams, i lied. also, uhhhh, it’s january? i’m sorry? you know how it is, you gotta write what’s in your head. if it makes y’all feel better, you as my hp audience are not the only ones suffering, i promised a fili/ori fic for my tiny hobbits series octoberish and i have it half written somewhere. also raise your hand if you’re trash hasn’t been updated in ages. all of these are my fault, but i will deny responsibility and claim that it is the fault of my muse, who picks an otp of the month and then doesn’t shut up about that otp. rn, it’s stucky. actually, it’s been stucky since november. soz._   
>  _you may have noticed that this is chapter 66 of 75. or maybe not, but you've hopefully noticed by now. but let it be said, that this is chapter 66 of 75, that there are now only nine chapters left for me to write and for you to read, so hold onto your asses, bc we’ve got a wild ride to get to chapter 75!_

**Chapter Sixty-Six**

**Pandora’s Box**

**Ginny**

 

The world built itself slowly. Her mind began to slip from consciousness even slower. It was a very gentle trickle, from waking to dreaming, that Ginny barely noticed at all. Her thoughts slid slowly, dripping in a thick, viscous fluid, in vague circles over places of great magic and enchanted items. As she entered sleep, her brain was fixated on Horcruxes, and thus, she dreamed.

 

 They were once again standing in the massive room filled with junk, in the place that had initially left when Dumbledore had roused them. The air had a faint, yellow tint to it, giving it the look of an old tintype photograph. She lifted her hands, and they pushed through the air with difficulty, as if the photograph’s enchantment was wearing thin and she, the subject, was losing sense of her reality. Harry stood at her back, his head leaning back against hers and his breathing slow, in time with hers. They breathed, languid, in a state almost blissful in how far removed the Horcruxes and the war seemed at that time.

 

 Yet, they stood in the midst of the stacks, before a broken Vanishing Cabinet and a badly damaged cupboard, a box full of powdered wigs and a stack of books. The ugly marble bust of a wizard that Ginny probably should have recognized from History of Magic scowled at her, and said: “Well? What are you waiting for?”

 

 Ginny moved without thinking. She lifted a wig from the box and set it carefully upon the bald marble head. The sculpture scowled just as hard at her. She took the tiara from the box and set it on his head as well. It gave a faint nod, then settled into its original inanimate state, the marble going dull and lifeless. They drifted.

 

 They stood in a room that was vast, but empty. The walls were made from mirrors, and the floor was covered in cushions and broad chalk circles. A mannequin on wheels stood in the very center of the room, its wooden hand aloft with a faux-wand in its fingers. The mannequin’s mouth was a grill and its eyes black buttons, somehow sewn into wood with thread. The mannequin raised its wand into the air, and from the tip poured silver light, light that flowed like fog and rolled down the mannequin’s arm and back to dust the ground, pooling at its wheels and spreading across the ground. Soon the silver light covered the entirety of the room and the mannequin lowered its arm to its side. The silver light curled around their feet, covering their toes.

 

   “Watch for the wicked ones,” the mannequin spoke, though its grill-mouth remained still. “Beware the reach of winter into May.”

 

 The silver light condensed, retracted as if the time it had taken was being reversed until it pooled only around the mannequin, then poured upwards to cover the wooden body entirely, and the mannequin, the light, and the room vanished.

 

 They stood facing a small house, a shack really, one that looked as if it had been untouched by human hands or even eyes for many decades. There was no door to it, though the windows were shuttered and bound shut by vines. The cracked bricks were taken over by the vines, green sprouts curling even into the mortar itself. The thatch roof had sprouted into a bed of vines as well, such that the entire house looked as if it were made just of the pliable, green stalks. The grass was tall and thick, and swayed gently in a breeze that was unfelt on either her skin or Harry’s, yet the tips brushed their knees as they drifted. Perhaps it had been abandoned so long the forest had seen fit to reclaim it, or perhaps a dryad had made it its home. The sky was dark, indicating an impending dawn, and the interior of the hovel was pitch black, not just as shadows, however, as the faint light from the stars and moon cast a gentle blue glow over the clearing, no, the interior of the hovel was a blackness solid enough that not even the threshold was visible. Looking then at the ruins and looking into the shadows, the area had a sinister feel that should not have been there, that contrasted with the gentle nature of the forest and earth, as if despite the slow and sleepy feel of the plant life around them, the interior of the hovel contained something that should not have been there.

 

 The sun rose, as had been promised by the color of the sky. The light came slowly, drifting carefully over the earth to kiss awake every dewdrop, and exposed what once must have been a footpath, but like the grounds and house around it, had been reclaimed by the earth and covered in grasses and patches of clover. The dawn brought the light carefully across the ground until it reached the hovel and began to slide up the walls, but, defying logic, the open doorway of the hovel remained pitch black. The light traveled nevertheless, until the whole of the clearing was illuminated, with nothing but the interior of the shack left dark. The sinister aura began to increase, a permeating sense of unrest, as if they should not have been there, and whatever was inside certainly should have never existed and not even the cleansing light of dawn could change its malevolent nature.

 

 Yet as they watched, flowers began to slowly bloom from the vines covering the house. One by one, little white morning glories opened, yawning at the sunrise that had roused them, and framed the doorway like a black sheet. Whatever inside the hovel was something dark in nature, and the earth knew it, but the earth resisted it, and blanketed it in beauty.

 

 They did not need to go inside. They turned and began to follow the reclaimed path away from the hovel, leaving behind the slumbering evil and the waking beauty, as slowly, the path became worn once again. Then it became wider, then cobbled, until the path was not a path but a road, leading through a city that was very old as well as very _old_. The lamps lighting the streets were gas-fed flames, cars that looked like they were only just beginning to be utilized on a wide scale were parked side by side with horse-drawn carriages. Stands with copies of the _Daily Herald_ displayed headlines of _POWERS AGREE TO BRITISH PLAN_ , though Ginny had no clue what that plan was meant to be. The dates on every paper, despite the distance, were clear in reading _Sunday, July 4 th, 1938_. It was bright out, with the sun clearly visible in the sky, yet the street was silent and deserted.

 

 But as they took another step forward, their feet moving in sync with one another, their hands linked, the two of them saw that the street was not, in fact, deserted at all, rather, the people were all just still and unmoving, frozen in place and in mid-step. The scene was paused, almost, yet they moved freely. Ginny and Harry found their feet carrying them without direction towards a man frozen in walking down the street, a man with glossy auburn hair, dressed in a plum, velvet suit. As they approached, Ginny saw the man’s face: He wore no glasses, but the crooked, broken quality of the nose was unmistakable. This man was Dumbledore, much younger, granted, but Dumbledore all the same.

 

   “I don’t think I like this,” Ginny said quietly.

 

 Harry gripped her hand tighter.

 

 The people abruptly unfroze. Dumbledore’s foot hit the ground and he carried on with a purposeful step, attracting looks from many of the passersby. Harry and Ginny followed, until Dumbledore rounded a corner and they reached a set of iron gates quartering off a courtyard with yellowed, and very short grass. The courtyard lead to a building, uninviting in appearance and certainly off-putting, to which Dumbledore strode directly to before knocking firmly only once.

 

 Time seemed to pick up its pace; the door opened, a maid spoke briefly with Dumbledore before vanishing with him into the building. They approached, in time to catch Dumbledore climbing a set of stairs behind a harried-looking woman. The two moved unnaturally quickly, such that when Harry and Ginny reached the upper floor, they saw them enter a room only to exit it a second later. They followed as best they could, eventually finding the woman leaving another room down the hallways, the door closing behind her. For a second, Harry and Ginny stopped outside the door, wondering how they were meant to open it, though Ginny wasn’t sure why they needed to enter the room, and then they were already inside the room, the door still firmly shut behind them, with Dumbledore standing before a young boy, sat with a book on tattered gray blankets, a boy with a very sharp face, angled cheekbones, cold eyes, pale skin –

 

   “How do you do, Tom?” said Professor Dumbledore to the child form of Tom Riddle.

 

 The scene shifted. Dumbledore vanished, and Tom moved rapidly around the room, time speeding up by the second as he did. Tom seemed to grow taller and older; he vanished every few seconds to reappear a few seconds after, until finally, Tom re-entered the room, now older than them, but not by much, he entered the room to sit down upon the bed, fiddling with a ring on his finger as he stared into space. The light outside the window faded with the seconds passing, then abruptly, the sound of sirens filled the room. Ginny did not recognize them, but Harry had heard them before, in old black and white movies featuring World War II. These were air raid sirens.

 

 A girl ran into the room to grab his arm and tug on it, shouting something though her voice was inaudible, and Riddle responded by taking out his wand. There was a flash of green light, Harry flinched and the girl fell to the ground, dead. Riddle left the room, and a second later, the room was engulfed in fire. The floor vanished beneath them, or they vanished from the floor, and they were standing in a dark room, the only lights single bulbs hanging from the ceiling and flickering on and off, surrounded by the bodies of dozens of children and teenagers. They stood at the end of the very long room, and at the other side, Riddle was standing, holding in his hands a small, ornate wooden box, the lid of which he was holding open as a faint blue light pulsed inside it. The color of death in the room seemed to intensify, as if Riddle had stolen something more than the lives from these Muggles. Riddle smiled, a cruel smile tainted to look demonic in the light from the box, and let the lid fall shut. He turned, waved his wand, and fire poured from it to catch the bodies of the fallen. The fire caught quickly, surrounding them but they felt no heat, and they were standing outside once again, before the rubble and ash of an uninviting building.

 

 They drifted once more. They stood, then, in a dark room, before a flank of toilet stalls. They heard water dripping, a slow, gentle, _kerplunk_ , every few seconds, and the sound of someone crying. They followed the sound, and the stalls shifted into a wallpaper-covered wall, before phasing again, becoming stalls, and changing back to wallpaper. Ginny stopped, watching the cycle shift, until Harry tugged on her hand and she turned to face what he was looking at.

 

 A single boy stood over a sink, the mirror in front of him cracked. He was the one crying, and like the walls, he changed every few seconds. One moment, he wore plain black robes, the next, a much older fashion of robes that were patched in many places. One moment, his hair was short and appeared white in the low light, the next, it was hanging past his ears, and was red. The only constant was the crying.

 

 Ginny took a very hesitant step forward. The lights flashed and went out; she froze mid-step, as the boy looked up, changing still, into the mirror where a faint glow appeared.

 

 A face appeared in it, split down the middle, pale and menacing. One half, young, perhaps about twenty, had skin the color of spoilt milk, a goatee and mustache the same color, and the eye was pink. The other half was gray, the lips nonexistent, the nose flattened and reduced to a mere slit, the eye red. Voldemort was the second half, but the first half was not someone either of them knew.

 

 The mouth curled into a smile. It flashed, the halves becoming whole, in time with the shifting of everything else, until it settled on the strange man, who laughed as the red-headed boy collapsed to the ground, crawled onto his hands and knees, and then ran away from the echoing laughter, but froze halfway out of the bathroom. The man in the mirror became tangible, and he stepped forward to grasp the boy about the arm, pulling him to an upright position. The laughter quelled to a dark chuckle, then a quiet _tsk_ ing, and then, the boy sagged against him, embracing him.

 

   “There, there,” the man whispered, then he _kissed_ the boy’s temple? “It will all be alright. We will find a way. For the greater good, remember?”

 

 The scene drained. The man and the boy vanished, the elements of what was around them changing to reflect something different each moment. The darkened hovel passed them by, then the mouth of a rocky cave by the ocean, a barred entrance behind which the silhouette of something massive moved, the creaking and towering stacks of discarded junk.

 

 A single crib appeared before them. It was broken, the blankets impaled by splinters of wood, and the wall behind it completely destroyed. Just as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

 

 The dream ended there, or at least neither Ginny nor Harry remembered anything else when she and Harry woke. For a long time, they lay in the darkness, in silence as not even the hum of crickets below could reach them there, the sky outside their window still pre-dawn, the both of them just as tired as when they had gone to bed. Dawn slowly came, spilling gentle, butterscotch light over the windowsill and onto the carpet, staining the burgundy to a much lighter shade of pink, like milk poured into an herbal berry tea. With the dawn, Ginny sat up, pulled on Harry’s arm, and donned her slippers and dressing gown to go into the kitchen to make tea. Harry followed her, moving sluggishly, and the two of them stood in complete silence for a while, waiting for the kettle to boil. Ginny poured hot water over the tea bags, then handed one mug to Harry before adding cream and sugar to the other. Harry jerked his head out of the small kitchen, and they walked back into the sitting room, taking seats on the sofa to stare at the empty grate, their mugs of tea slowly cooling in their hands.

 

   “I think we should find out what happened when he made the second Horcrux,” Harry said quietly. His voice was scratchy from his silence through the night and the morning, his face angled away from hers as he spoke, his fingers gripping his mug of tea tightly. “We need to know.”

 

 Slowly, Ginny took a sip of her tea, then set down the mug on the coffee table and nodded. Harry looked at her, then set down his own tea and reached for her. She pulled her legs onto the sofa to curl against his side, burying her face in his chest and inhaling deeply what smelled like home.

 

   “I’m right here,” Harry murmured to her, his fingers slipping into her hair and combing through it. “I’ll be right here the entire time.”

 

   “I’ll be alright,” she mumbled in response. Harry tightened his grip on her, and she closed her eyes. It was one thing when she wasn’t expecting it, but when she had intent…

 

 It wasn’t difficult to get started. She knew who he had killed to create the second Horcrux, and conjuring the memory of what had happened took only a few seconds. It was less intense now that it was she who was summoning it instead of it summoning her, and at first, she only saw gravel. Dozens upon dozens of tiny little rocks, rounded and smoothed over by feet and years and perhaps even tires, many gray and some blue, until slowly, brick appeared in front of it. The brick smoothed itself out, falling into place as a set of steps, and then she was walking up the steps, to a black walnut door with silver knockers, and she was reaching out a hand that was paler and larger than it should have been to grasp the right-hand knocker. Her arm was clothed in a black jacket and white shirt cuffs, silver cufflinks in the shape of snakes with emeralds for eyes, the wrist, exposed by the raising of the arm, remarkably thin.

 

 The door opened. A girl in a maid’s uniform stood there, giving her a confused expression. Then she was inside, walking up a set of steps behind the girl. Her hand trailed along a railing made of the same black walnut as the door. She took the steps slowly, left foot, right foot, left foot, her eyes fixed on the back of the maid’s head, on the brown hair brought into a taut bun, her chest felt pinched by something almost fearful but that was too excited to truly be anxiety.

 

 The image skipped forward again. She was now standing outside a room on the second floor, the maid visible in the doorway.

 

            _“There’s a visitor here to see you, sir.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Says he’s family.”_

 The image skipped. The maid was walking past her, and her wand raised automatically. There was a flash of red light, and the maid’s eyes rolled upwards in her head before she dropped. Ginny caught her, then carefully and silently lowered her to the floor. She didn’t know how or why, but she knew that he had wanted witnesses. She entered the room.

 

 There were three people within the room. A woman, perhaps fifty, was sitting in an armchair on the far side of the room knitting with shaking fingers. She wasn’t looking up. The other two were men, one, younger, on his feet by the fire and facing her, the other an older man nearing or past his sixties, who sat in a second armchair with his body angled sideways to look at her.

 

            _“Who are you?”_ the older man barked.

 

 Her wand raised. She answered the question with: _“Avada Kedavra.”_ The older man slumped sideways and fell out of the chair. She wasn’t sure quite what happened next. The woman screamed and jumped to her feet, definitely, the younger man either dropped to his knees and shook the older man or stumbled backwards and fell over a coffee table. Her wand turned on the woman next, and the green light flashed again. The woman’s screams stopped instantly and she collapsed onto the ground. The younger man scrabbled to his feet, holding his hands out in surrender.

 

            _“Who the hell are you?! What are you doing?!”_

 

            _“Hello,”_ she said. _“It’s nice to meet you, Father.”_

__

 The man frowned. The image skipped again, and the man was lying dead on the ground. She stood over the three bodies, looking at the corpse of Tom’s father.

 

 Her hand raised again. It drew a complex pattern in the air, her mouth whispered incantations she didn’t recognize. Then, a shining, purple rectangle appeared in the air. It solidified, becoming a doorway. A sigil drew itself into the purple light, becoming what looked like a scythe.

 

 The door opened very slowly. She felt anticipation clench in her chest, as it swung inwards, and from it came a cloaked figure, their hood drawn far over their head so that their face was hidden entirely by shadow.

 

            _“Severe a piece of my soul,”_ she commanded, then held out her left hand and opened it, palm up, revealing a silver ring. _“Put it in this.”_

 The hooded figure did not move. _“Do it!”_ she snapped.

 

            _“Why?”_ the figure whispered.

 

 She felt Tom’s surprise. _“You’re not supposed to ask me why, you’re just supposed to do it, devil.”_

            _“I am not a devil, mortal. I repeat. Why?”_

 

The anticipation in her chest turned sour, muddled by what was really anxiety then. _“What are you, then?”_

_“Why?”_

 Then anger was added to the mess. She straightened her arm, placing the point of the wand directly in front of the hood and the shadowed face. _“I am creating a Horcrux, obviously! Just do it!”_

 The figure raised a hand. Her chest clenched again, not from fear or anger or excitement, but physically. She began to choke, gasping and trying to gulp in air that couldn’t enter her lungs. The ring, still held in her outstretched palm, began to glow. Black spots appeared at the edge of her vision. Her brain began to pound, screaming for oxygen, as the glow intensified in her palm, and a cold sensation began in her chest. Like ice being forced into her very heart, it spread outwards, until her every limb felt numb and she could see the tips of her fingers going purple. Her panic rose, and abruptly, the figure dropped their hand. Her chest expanded on instinct as the cold sensation vanished entirely, and she gasped for breath.

 

            _“Why?”_ the figure repeated.

 

Ginny coughed and inhaled deeply several times. She straightened her body and pushed back her hair, feeling short locks, smoother than Harry’s and coarser than hers. She looked at the figure, and felt the anger redouble. The image skipped again, and the figure was suddenly much larger, hands held out as purple light dripped from the fingers, and she was almost blown back from the force of the change.

 

            _“I am no mere devil!”_ the figure repeated in in a hiss. _“Child, you are powerful but you are not immortal. Now, answer me, why do you create a second Horcrux?”_

 Her throat felt like sandpaper as she swallowed slowly. She felt young and dwarfed in the aura of this being, but she couldn’t let it show. Instead, she raised her own wand in defense, pointing it at the figure.

 

            _“So that I may be immortal.”_

 

 The figure slowly lowered their hands. The head tilted to the side, and the image skipped again. Ginny felt herself jump physically, not in the memory, as the figure was now so close to her face that she could feel their breath falling on her forehead.

 

            _“Tell me, mortal, what do you know of Pandora’s box?”_

 

 The image froze. It became strangely two dimensional, then a crack slowly appeared in the hood of the figure, and it cascaded down. Cracks radiated outward from there and the image shattered into tiny pieces, and behind it was emptiness.

 

   “Ginny?” Harry’s voice. “Are you alright?”

 

 She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. She sat up some and cracked her neck, then looked at Harry with a frown.

 

   “What did you see?”

 

   “He killed his father and grandparents,” Ginny answered, slowly. “Then he summoned a devil, or tried to, but he got… well, I suppose it was Daphne, whatever she is.” Ginny shook her head, swallowed and found her mouth dry. She leaned forward and picked up her tea, taking a long gulp from it and inhaling after. Harry waited, his hand on her knee. “She… I think she severed the piece of his soul and put it into this ring, like he wanted, but it was horrible. I felt it, Harry, my chest went all cold and I couldn’t breathe.”

 

   “It wasn’t real, Gin,” Harry said automatically.

 

 Ginny gave a nod, her eyes on the ground. “I don’t know how he did that seven times.”

 

   “What did she tell him?” Harry asked softly.

 

   “She asked him why he was creating a second Horcrux,” she said. “He said it was because he wanted to be immortal, then… It kept skipping around, like there were pieces of the memory missing, he said he wanted to be immortal and it skipped something, then she asked if he had ever heard of Pandora’s box?”

 

 Now Ginny looked at Harry, who was frowning at her. “What’s Pandora’s box?” she asked.

 

   “Are you sure?” Harry asked.

 

   “Positive,” she replied. “What is it?”

 

   “It’s a Greek myth,” Harry said. “Like, Hercules and the Minotaur.”

 

 Ginny frowned as well. “Like what?”

 

 Harry raised an eyebrow at her, saying: “Didn’t you learn about Greek myths in grade school?”

 

   “My mother taught me about magical theory and how to read and speak Gaelic,” Ginny said flatly. “No, I did not learn about Greek mythology. Learned plenty of Celtic mythology. Would you like to know about the Morrigan?”

 

   “Never mind,” Harry said hastily, “the point is, it’s one of the Greek myths. Zeus, you know what Zeus is, right?”

 

   “Not really,” she answered.

 

 Harry sighed, looking around and then back at her. “Alright, well, the Greek gods decided they were mad at humans or something, but back then there was only man, so they made the first woman, Pandora.”

 

   “Something tells me this is bullshit,” Ginny commented.

 

   “Obviously, Ginny, the Greek gods aren’t real,” Harry sighed. “They made Pandora, and they made her really curious, and they gave her –”

 

   “Gave her!?” Ginny repeated.

 

   “Let me finish,” Harry said hastily, grabbing her hands and squeezing them. “They gave her to a mortal man and with her, they gave this box as like a wedding present, but they told them never to open it, it was just for decoration.”

 

   “She opened it?” Ginny said.

 

   “Basically,” Harry answered, shrugging. “Turns out, the gods put all sorts of evil energies in that box, like famine and war and stuff, and when she opened it, they all escaped into the world.”

 

 Ginny frowned. “Why would Daphne have told Riddle about something like that?”

 

 Harry’s eyes searched her face for a moment. Then, he said: “I have no clue. It’s a myth. It doesn’t exist. Probably.”

 

 They stared at each other for a second, then said, simultaneously, “Hermione.”

 

 With that, they stood, and returned to their bedroom to dress. They grabbed their bags, leaving the room, and went down to the common room. Harry walked through the boy’s dorms while Ginny went through the girls’, pausing at the fifth years’ dorm to look for Hermione, but she wasn’t there, so she continued to the common room. Neville, Dean, and Seamus were sitting by the fire, chatting with one another.

 

   “Did Hermione leave already?” Ginny asked them.

 

 They stopped, looking up at her and Harry. Seamus looked around, then shrugged dramatically while Neville frowned and Dean shook his head.

 

   “I haven’t seen her,” Neville supplied.

 

   “What about Ron, is he still upstairs?” Harry asked.

 

   “No,” Seamus said, grinning a little. “Thankfully, him and Neville went downstairs long before me and Dean.”

 

 Neville groaned and Ginny elected to ignore Seamus’s insinuation, turning to face her husband. “If he’s not upstairs and he’s not here, he’s got to be at breakfast with Hermione.”

 

 Harry nodded, taking her hand and starting towards the portrait hole.

 

   “Hey, what’s the rush?” Seamus called.

 

   “We have to talk to Hermione!” Ginny called over her shoulder. “See you later!”

 

 They left the tower, walking hastily towards the ground floor and the Great Hall. Since it was still pretty early, the corridors were mostly empty and they passed very few on their way downstairs. Thankfully, they found Ron and Hermione sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table side-by-side, Ron eating a large mound of eggs and Hermione sipping coffee with her head on Ron’s shoulder with her thick, kinky hair acting as a cushion, looking half asleep.

 

   “There you are,” Harry said, dropping down opposite them.

 

   “Yep,” Hermione mumbled sleepily as Ginny sat beside Harry.

 

   “Were you looking for us?” Ron asked.

 

   “Hermione,” Ginny said. “We have to ask you something.”

 

 Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as if in protest. “Can it wait?” she muttered. “At least until my coffee’s kicked in?”

 

   “Late night?” Harry asked.

 

 Ron abruptly blushed. Ginny set a hand on Harry’s shoulder, stopping him from opening his mouth as he looked at her. Her mouth set in a firm line, she shook her head. Harry frowned, his thick eyebrows getting closer together for a second, then he glanced at Ron and Hermione and his eyes widened. He hastily poured himself some pumpkin juice, flushed.

 

 Ginny sighed and served herself kippers. It wasn’t her morning.

 

 After a while, Hermione lifted her head off of Ron’s shoulder and poured a second cup of coffee. Harry opened his mouth, but she raised a single finger and raised the mug to her lips, drinking heavily. She set it down, exhaled and blinked a couple times, then looked at Harry and Ginny expectantly.

 

   “What do you know about Pandora’s box?” Harry asked.

 

 Hermione frowned. So did Ron, but the effect was lessened by the way his cheeks were bulging slightly from the rather large bite of sausage he’d just taken.

 

   “Erm,” Hermione said. “It’s a Greek myth?”

 

   “Does it have a real magical equivalent?” Harry rephrased. “Like, specifically relating to cheating death.”

 

 Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, then flicked them onto Ginny. She raised one pencil thin eyebrow, her lips pursing slightly.

 

   “We’re being serious,” Ginny said.

 

 Hermione dropped the face and sighed, shrugging and taking another gulp of her coffee before setting it down and folding her hands under her chin, propping herself up on them.

 

   “There’s a few enchantments that act like Pandora’s box,” she began, “there’s a memory charm that was created in the last few years of the Great War by a Polish wizard that captures traumatic memories and traps them within an object, for example.”

 

   “We’re thinking something to do with –”

 

   “Cheating death?” Hermione repeated, her eyebrow raising once more. “Harry, there’s no way to return someone from the dead and there isn’t a way to make yourself permanently immortal.”

 

  “I know that,” Harry said, “I’m talking about Voldemort, Hermione.”

 

 Hermione’s elbows slipped from the table as Ron coughed and choked on a mouthful of eggs. She reached out automatically to slap him on the back, while giving Harry and Ginny an abruptly startled expression.

 

   “I thought – Oh, I’m sorry, Harry,” she said, “I thought you were talking about, well, your parents.”

 

   “The other kind of cheating death,” Ginny said.

 

 Hermione shrugged. “That’s not really something that’s in the library,” she said carefully. “I think you ought to talk to Dumbledore.”

 

   “And not while I’m eating, please,” Ron rasped, having apparently cleared his airways of egg.

 

 Harry huffed and started to push up from the table, but Ginny grabbed his arm and tugged him back down. “What?” he asked exasperatedly.

 

   “You have to eat first,” she told him.

 

 Harry huffed a second time and grabbed a piece of toast, which he jammed dry into his mouth. Ginny served eggs and bacon onto his plate, giving herself eggs while she did, then poured herself pumpkin juice.

 

   “You’re more like your mother than you think,” Harry grumbled.

 

 She raised an eyebrow at him. “Eat your breakfast, love.”

 

 Harry smiled a little, his eyebrows lifting for a second as he nodded and grumbled, “Yes, dear.” Ginny patted his hand gratefully.

 

   “Ginny’s nothing like Mum,” Ron said. “She can’t even make toast!”

 

   “I can make a damn fine cup of tea,” Ginny said in her own defense, pointing a fork at her brother. “That’s enough.”

 

   “I can cook just fine, anyway,” Harry added, still grumbling a little.

 

Ron shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, and bit off the end of a slice of bacon. Hermione drained her second cup of coffee before sticking her hand out at the basket of toast. Ron handed it to her without looking, and Hermione hummed gratefully. Ginny half-smiled abruptly, thinking that perhaps there were additional methods of telepathy to hers and Harry’s.

 

 Harry ate quickly, clearly itching to jump up and chase down Dumbledore, while Ginny took her time to breathe between bites. In the end, they got up another twenty minutes later, leaving Ron and Hermione to finish their breakfast at their own paces and just as Neville, Dean, and Seamus appeared. Ginny half waved to them as she turned to face the head table, then walked directly into Harry’s back.

 

_Bloody hell, Harry!_

   “Dumbledore’s not here,” Harry said without responding to her. Ginny craned her neck to see over Harry’s shoulder, realized the pointlessness of trying to when he was a giant, and stepped out from behind him to look up at the head table. Her shoulders dropped. Dumbledore’s seat was, indeed, empty.

 

   “Shit,” Ginny mumbled.

 

   “Where is he?” Harry hissed. “He’s always at breakfast!”

 

   “Well, not really,” Ginny said, then Harry shook his head.

 

   “Not the point,” he grumbled.

 

 Ginny grabbed his hand and tugged on it. “Come on, maybe he’s in his office.”

 

 Harry gave a nod and let her tug him around. They marched out of the hall, passing through the rapidly growing crowd of students assembling for the morning meal, taking the stairs up to the fourth floor and Dumbledore’s office. They reached the gargoyle guarding it quickly, and Harry gave it the password.

 

 To their surprise, it did not immediately step out of the way. Rather, it spoke to them.

 

   “Professor Dumbledore is not in at the mo’.”

 

 Harry and Ginny blinked together. They looked at each other, then back at the gargoyle.

 

   “Where is he?” Harry asked.

 

   “Try the Great Hall,” the gargoyle sighed. “It’s breakfast time, after all.”

 

   “We were just there!” Ginny said.

 

   “Oh, well,” the gargoyle said.

 

   “We’ve got to talk to him!” Harry insisted.

 

 The gargoyle shrugged. It didn’t speak again. Harry looked around and groaned in frustration. “Now what?” he said.

 

   “We could try McGonagall,” Ginny suggested.

 

 Harry half nodded, frowning at the gargoyle. “She doesn’t know about the Horcruxes, though,” he murmured.

 

 Ginny hissed a curse and shook her head. “Where the hell could he be, then?”

 

   “I have no clue,” the gargoyle said helpfully.

 

   “Thanks,” Harry snapped at it. The gargoyle shook its wings, apparently affronted.

 

   “I guess we just wait,” Ginny suggested.

 

 Harry gave a nod. “I don’t like it, but I think you’re right.”

 

   “Try going to class,” the gargoyle told them. “Perhaps that will solve your problem.”

 

 Harry gave the gargoyle a dirty look, then took Ginny’s hand and turned away. They walked back to the stairs, begrudgingly following the gargoyle’s advice and attending their lessons. Both Harry and Ginny were antsy, several times being called out by teachers to stop fidgeting and pay attention. There was still no sign of Dumbledore at lunch, nor at dinner, and in desperation, they returned to the gargoyle guarding his office after dinner in hopes that he had returned and just hadn’t attended the meal.

 

   “Not you again,” the gargoyle said.

 

   “Is he in there?” Harry demanded without responding to the gargoyle’s comment.

 

   “Is who in where?” the gargoyle asked snarkily.

 

   “Dumbledore,” Ginny and Harry snapped at the same time.

 

   “Testy,” the gargoyle quipped.

 

   “We have something really important to ask him about, just, is he in his office or what?”

 

   “I am afraid not,” the gargoyle said, and, if stone gargoyles could, it turned its nose up at them.

 

 Harry let out a low curse, while Ginny sank her head, disheartened. She rubbed at her eyes, unhelpfully, Harry’s vision filling the darkness of her own closed lids, as he turned to glare down the corridor at nothing.

 

 Actually, at the approaching form of Professor Dumbledore.

 

 Ginny jerked her head up and they two of them both shouted out: “Professor!” and took off running towards Dumbledore. “Professor, we’ve got something to tell you!” Harry called.

 

   “Have you, now?” Professor Dumbledore asked. Now that they were closer, Ginny saw that he looked tired. He was holding himself funny, too, his left hidden in his robes in almost cradling way. He sounded tired, as well, frankly, exhausted, but gave them a smile as they skidded to a halt in front of him.

 

   “Do you know about an enchanted item called Pandora’s Box?” Harry demanded instantly.

 

   “It is a modified Pensieve,” Dumbledore started, but Harry shook his head.

 

   “No, a different thing, something related to Horcruxes.”

 

 Dumbledore frowned at them both. “I haven’t any idea. Why do you ask?”

 

 At his words, Harry let out a frustrated noise while Ginny covered her eyes with her hands again. “Are you alright?” Dumbledore asked.

 

   “I went looking through Tom’s memories,” Ginny said, dropping her hands. Dumbledore paled. “I found what happened when he created the second Horcrux, what he learned from Daphne, but the memory has fragments, and the furthest I got was her asking him what he knew about Pandora’s Box, then it ended.”

 

   “Let’s talk in my office,” Dumbledore said quietly.

 

 Ginny and Harry followed him, still antsy, to the gargoyle, waited while he gave the password, then up the spiral stairs to his office. Ginny barely waited for him to sit down behind his desk before launching into a description of what she had seen.

 

 As she spoke, Dumbledore’s frown only deepened. He stroked at his beard with his right hand, his glasses catching the light every so often, but said nothing until she had finished.

 

   “What made you decide to look through his memories this morning?”

 

 Ginny opened her mouth, but hadn’t actually expected that question, and shut it again. She glanced at Harry, who was looking at his feet, then back at Dumbledore.

 

   “I – Well, it was the dream we had, I guess.”

 

 Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed at her. “Tell me, would you permit me to extract your memories of that dream and of seeing Tom’s memory? Perhaps if we view them both again in my Pensieve, there will be further clues as to what this Pandora’s Box is.”

 

   “Alright,” she said without hesitation.

 

 Dumbledore rose from his chair, crossed out from behind the desk, and raised his wand carefully to press it to her temple. Ginny had once given him memories, last year, so remembered what to do. She thought hard about the dream, until Dumbledore drew his wand away from her temple with a shimmering strand of silver light. He crossed back to the cabinet behind his desk, opened it, and dropped the silver memory into the Pensieve. Ginny and Harry followed, and Dumbledore repeated the process, while this time Ginny thought of the fragment of Tom’s memory. When Dumbledore had placed it into the Pensieve, he tucked his wand back into his robes, his left hand emerging from the folds of his sleeve.

 

Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle a gasp, one that Harry let loose, at the sight of Dumbledore’s left hand. Dumbledore glanced down at it, then gave them a pained smile. It had turned black, like charcoal, the flesh beneath the skin withered away so that the bones stuck out painfully. It had most certainly been healthy the day before.

 

   “I shall explain later,” Dumbledore said. “Do not worry, please.”

 

   “But,” Harry started, and Dumbledore shook his head.

 

   “Later,” he insisted. Then, with his blackened left hand, he gestured to the Pensieve. “Shall we?”

 

 Ginny took Harry’s hand, then Dumbledore’s elbow. Harry leaned in first, and it was naught but a second after his face touched the surface of the Pensieve that Ginny was sucked in after him.

 

 It was strange, revisiting a dream. The first thing they saw was the stacks of junk, before they were looking at a marble bust.

 

   “What even is this place?” Harry asked.

 

   “I cannot be sure,” Dumbledore said in answer, then the bust looked at them.

 

   “Well?” it asked. “What are you waiting for?”

 

 Ginny didn’t move, but abruptly, her hand materialized in the air, lifted a wig and a tiara from a box next to the bust, and set both on the bust’s head. The bust gave a nod, just as Dumbledore let out a gasp.

 

   “Well!” he said. “That certainly answers one question.”

 

   “What question?” Ginny asked, even as the scenery changed, to a vast, empty room lined with mirrors, with only a single mannequin on wheels in the center. She recognized it now as a dueling dummy, with its wooden hand raised with a false wand, a wand that abruptly began pouring silver light over the ground.

 

   “Watch for the wicked ones,” it said. “Beware of the reach of winter into May.”

 

   “Strange,” Dumbledore whispered, and the scenery changed yet again. They faced a small building, blanketed in vines, and Dumbledore drew in his breath. “I see the pattern now,” he added.

 

   “What pattern?” Harry asked.

 

 Dumbledore raised his left hand, gnarled and destroyed, to point at the shack. “This house contained Voldemort’s second Horcrux.”

 

   “Contained?” Ginny asked. “Past tense?”

 

 Dumbledore gave a nod. “That is where I was today. Why my hand has become… like this.”

 

 The scenery changed before either Ginny or Harry could push for further details, and they stood in a crowded London street.

 

   “That’s you, isn’t it?” Ginny asked, pointing to the man in the plum suit.

 

   “It is,” Dumbledore said quietly.

 

 They followed the younger version of Dumbledore, or rather, the scenery did. Time moved more quickly than it should, but they never lost sight of the younger Dumbledore, until they were standing in a small bedroom, while Dumbledore bowed to the boy sat on the bed.

 

   “How do you do, Tom?” the younger Dumbledore asked.

 

   “Did you know?” Harry asked the present Dumbledore.

 

   “That I was meeting one of the darkest wizards of our age?” Dumbledore answered with a question. “How could I?”

 

 And time sped up again, Tom Riddle growing in front of their eyes, until a girl ran in, Tom killed her, and the room caught fire. They shifted into another room, long and filled with fallen bodies, and at the opposite end, Tom Riddle held an ornate box in his hands, a faint blue glow staining his face malevolent.

 

   “Oh!” Ginny gasped, suddenly seeing. “That! That must be –!”

 

   “But what is it?” Harry asked. “What does it do?”

 

   “I cannot be sure,” Dumbledore said, watching as Tom let the lid of what had to be Pandora’s Box fall shut. “It is definitely not a Horcrux.”

 

 Then the scene changed again, and they were standing in a bathroom. Ginny looked around, saw the walls changing from cubicle to wallpaper, before her eyes landed on the boy bent over a sink, head hanging in shadow. The boy, too, shifted, one moment wearing simple black robes, his hair almost white, the next wearing patchwork clothes, hair longer and darker.

 

 There was a face in the mirror, a face split in half, one half pale and pink-eyed, the other clearly Voldemort. Dumbledore suddenly went stiff beside her. The scene abruptly ceased its phasing, settling on the wallpaper and the darker hair, as the boy turned away from the mirror and was met with the pink-eyed man, in full life and color. The boy collapsed into the man’s arms, the man smirking and stroking his hair, and he said: “There, there.”

 

 The man kissed the boy’s temple, but Ginny was looking at Dumbledore, who was very pale.

 

   “It will all be alright. We will find a way. For the greater good, remember?”

 

   “The dream ends here,” Ginny said, as the final four scenes flashed by: The shack, the cave by the ocean, the shadowy and massive figure, and the stacks of junk.

 

 For a moment, Dumbledore didn’t move. Then he waved his hand, and the gravel road leading up to the house where Tom killed his father and grandparents appeared. Ginny kept watching Dumbledore, who never made another movement, or sound, and never regained the color in his cheeks, as the memory played, disembodied hands appearing where Ginny’s memory couldn’t fill in Tom’s full body, pieces getting skipped over, until the moment that the purple door appeared and the hooded figure of Daphne stepped out of it.

 

   _“Tell me, mortal,”_ Daphne said, _“what do you know of Pandora’s Box?”_

 

 As the second memory faded, Dumbledore gripped her elbow and pulled. She returned to herself, standing in his office, and looked to see if he was still pale.

 

 He was.

 

   “Who was that man?” Ginny asked. “And who was the boy?”

 

   “I cannot be sure why you saw that,” Dumbledore said, as he stepped away from her and towards his desk. “It does not appear to have any bearing on the current situation.”

 

   “But who were they?”

 

   “The question is, what truly is Pandora’s Box?” Dumbledore said, deftly ignoring her query, as he sank into his chair and tapped his beard with a finger. “We saw it for a brief moment, but I do not recognize it. I certainly do not know what reason this Daphne being would have to offer it to Tom.”

 

   “You said that there was a pattern,” Harry prompted.

 

   “Yes!” Dumbledore said. “And a good one! Those four final images, the shack, the cave, the massive creature in the darkness, and the piles of discarded junk, my theory is that they are the locations of four Horcruxes.”

 

   “You said the shack contained the second,” Harry said.

 

   “And it did. With the knowledge you gained last night, I was able to pin down where the second Horcrux was and destroy it. It was a ring belonging to Marvolo Gaunt, Voldemort’s maternal grandfather. It is, by now, destroyed, thankfully. Now, the shadowy creature, I suspect that it was the dragon used by the goblins to guard the deepest-most vaults of Gringotts, namely, the Black Family vault where the locket was hidden, which leaves the cave and the junk.”

 

 At that point, Dumbledore looked back to them. He was smiling again, no longer pale, but Ginny still couldn’t help but wonder who the pink-eyed man had been to have caused him such distress.

 

   "The room filled with junk, I do not know where it is or how to access it as of right now, but the tiara that you saw, that you placed on the head of that bust, that matches the description of Ravenclaw's lost diadem, which would fit into Tom's pattern of taking objects belonging to the founders. That seaside cave, on the one hand, I know where it is.”

 

   “You do?” Harry asked, excited.

 

   “While Tom lived at the orphanage, every year, the children were taken out to the countryside on field trips. They visited one cliffside by the sea, where he and two other children vanished for a great period of time. When they returned, the children he had vanished with refused to speak of what had happened, but were obviously immensely frightened. It was something he did often, but only on that trip did they visit such a location. The cave itself is surrounded by jagged rocks, so boats are unable to approach it, and since that summer, locals have reported that those who approach the cliffside experience strange feelings and leave just as soon as they arrive.”

 

   “There might be Muggle-repelling charms on the cliff?” Ginny suggested.

 

   “My thoughts exactly,” Dumbledore said.

 

   “Then let’s go!” Harry burst out. “What are we waiting for?”

 

 Dumbledore, then, looked less excited. “I’m not sure you should accompany me –”

 

   “But, Professor, you’re injured,” Ginny said hastily, “who knows what could be in that cave? Please, you have to bring us, we can help!”

 

 Dumbledore appeared hesitant, but after a moment, he nodded. “Alright. We’ll go.”

 

   “Now?” Harry asked.

 

   “Run and fetch your Invisibility cloak,” Dumbledore said first. “I will be waiting in the Great Hall for you, do not be seen leaving Gryffindor tower.”

 

   “Right away, sir!” Harry said, already grabbing Ginny’s hand and tugging her from the office.


End file.
